#l o l but those murder gloves

[stormvanari]

About Lanthanum-57:

Located a little far from Copper-9, this exoplanet is very fortified due to the secretive nature of this particular Cabin Labs located here. Other than the higher-ranking members of JCJ, no one really knows the inner workings of the lab's top-secret areas, which make up a large portion of the grounds. Some Subject Drones tried to sneak in, only to turn into Sentinel food or explode on the spot.

To prevent anyone from trespassing, Lanthanum-57's Cabin Labs is guarded by a high-profile security system: aside Sentinels, there is a plethora of explosive laser beams, saws, etc.. Basically, the place is a typical death trap.

After CYN unleashed hell on Lanthanum-57, the outposts (which are also fortified, but not too much like the Cabin Labs) turned into refuges for Workers to retreat from the Disassembly Drones hunting them down. Moreover, the weapons stored in these outposts and littered in cities boosted the Workers' protection.

However, HIE has been proven as a challenge for them.

Known Disassembly Drones stationed on this exoplanet: H, I, E, W, O, L, D, Y, Q

[erinawritesheadcanons2]

Hello, could we have headcanons for Knockout with a human s/o? ❤️+🔪

Knockout, Breakdown, Airachnid with Human Assassin S/O

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A/N: Hello there Anon, I hope you do not mind that I am adding Airachnid and Breakdown for the headcanon. Also, I hope you don't mind with some gore, violence, and profanities because let's face it. Almost all of the Decepticons are violent and they are not human-friendly like Autobot.

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Profanities, Gore and Violence.

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Knockout

Because Knockout is a Decepticon and if you have seen the clip he was going to mutilate Smokescreen, you know Knockout is a huge sadist and not like other medics.

Knockout will love learning about human anatomy and if he's a human. He would definitely kidnap tons of people just for his science project.

I can see he finds your job interesting, especially since you are an assassin. He also thinks you're kind of job is hot, he often watches those action movies where Assassin do many tricks.

He does think you are badass like those assassins in the movies. Knockout also gonna ask you about your job like what kind of weapon you use to kill people. How did you not get caught by the police yet?

Literally thinks if you are an assassin, you are wearing revealing clothing from the movie WHICH IS NOT LIKE THAT AT ALL. He would ask you if you wear those kinds of clothes and you had to explain not all assassins wear revealing clothes.

In his human form, sometimes would help you make those dangerous chemical liquids or poisons for you to use in case you need a weapon that cannot be discovered by the police.

Also sometimes helping you clean your choice of weapons and sanitise them from any fingerprints in case you forgot to wear your gloves after murdering someone.

Knockout might be a deception but he is definitely your biggest supporter if he knows that you are an assassin. Especially if you are an assassin that can hack into a system, definitely simping you like there is no tomorrow.

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The sounds of the siren blaring in the night as there are tapes surrounding the room from the small apartment. Inside the room, there are two bodies laying on the floor one of them has foam coming out from the guy's mouth. The first victim is an old man with thick, light grey coloured hair that is styled back and a pair of thick eyebrows. 

The second victim was covered with her own blood with a bullet piercing through her abdomen and her chest. The girl has straight, mid-back-length black hair with long bangs as well as a pair of lilac eyes that are wide open. No one knows who was the murderer behind the grandpa and the granddaughter.

But what the police were not aware of is a pair of (E/C) eye colours that are watching from far away with a pair of binoculars as the police still investigating the murder scene. (Y/N) (L/N) could not help but scoff in amusement seeing the polices still searching for her/him/them.

(Y/N)'s phone suddenly rings out of nowhere and they/her/she immediately picks it up, presses the green button and places the screen of the phone near (Y/N)'s mouth to speak to the caller behind it. "Sweetspark, is your mission going well?" A sound of a certain red Decepticons purrs from the phone. "Yeah, the poison that you made for me works really fast. That old man immediately went to hell," you said.

It was silent for a moment but soon there were sounds of deep rumbling laughter from behind the phone. Knockout was amused with your answer, proud that you hadn't been caught by the police that you just murdered two people in one night. "Good job, sweetspark. Do you need anything once you go back? "I forgot to wear my gloves. Could you sanitize my weapon and make me a new chemical stuff again for me to kill other people?" You ask. "Right away, princess/prince/sweetspark~" and the call ended there.

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Breakdown

Breakdown is a lowkey sadist and not as sadist as Knockout. I know you would say I'm wrong because he likes to swing his hammer around and he likes to destroy stuff.

I'm saying this if he only gets the satisfaction of killing when using his hammer or with the action but operating humans and squashing them with his feet or mutilating them? He is disgusted.

He does think your job is cool too, like Knockout but he only gets interested in the action, like 'So...how do you kill your target? Do you use a knife or....use a gun?'

In his holoform (In the human version), definitely have a grabby hand and would try all of your weapons, even the smallest one and ask you how to use them.

Let him use the weapon but guide him. If you don't let him, definitely going to be super annoyed at you and then give you the silent treatment like a kid.

I can see he does watch those action movies where there is a cool assassin together with Knockout when he had his free time in there but unlike knockout. He's just interested in the method of the killer on how killing their target

Breakdown also would love to help you but instead in the background like Knockout. He would help you in action to kill another human.

Also helping you as he uses a disguise to lure the target with his holoform before so you had more time or a chance to kill the target and help you hide inside of him when he is in his alt form.

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The stars decorate the sky as well as the moon and the lights that decorate the city. Even though it was midnight, the city is as still as lively with many people going home from their working place or going to the bar to enjoy the blaring sound and move their bodies around to the beat of the song.

A young teenager with messy, almost spiky black hair that appears to grow backwards and flow upward could be seen walking in the alleyway and a cigarette in his mouth. His dull green eyes did not see another person standing close to him with a pair of (E/C) eye colours as well as Yellow eye colour from far away.

The male quickly throws the cigarette away as he feels the smoke from the cigs stuck inside of his throat and expectorates the remains, feeling bitter because of the small object. A pair of large hands is placed on top of the man's shoulder, making the young teenager looks up to see Breakdown's holoform.

"Hey ya, buddy. You should be careful in here," Breakdown's gruff voice could be heard.

"Piss off. What the fuck do you need," the young boy glares at Breakdown.

"Hey, no need to be rude. I'm just doing a favour for you because if you turn around. There is someone dangerous.." Breakdown points with his index finger.

Once the young teenager turns around, the last thing he sees was a pair of (E/C) eyes and a wicked smile across his face. Since the two of them are deep in the alleyway, no one heard the sound of a bat hitting the person's head as blood began spewing out from the person's head and lay on the cold concrete floor.

(Y/N) looks up at Breakdown's holoform before they/her/she places their/her/his arm around him and pulls Breakdown closer into your embrace. "Thanks, for helping me kill him, sweet spark. I will tell my boss that I did the job." "It was no problem, I'm just glad I can see you in action~" The corner of Breakdown's lips tugged upwards as he tightened his arms around you.

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Airachnid

Hooo boy, good luck with having a bigger sadist as your romantic partner. Airachnid is much worse than Knockout and Breakdown so you had to be on your feet every second.

Airachnid definitely thinks your job is not only fascinating but also very useful for her cause. Especially if you are an assassin that can hack into any computer system.

Would often ask you for your help to hack into the Nemesis system when you had some free time or watch you stabbing your target with such fascination.

In her holoform or in her human form, she would definitely ask you if she can borrow the corpse that you just stab with like it was nothing before bringing the corpse into her lab.

Airachnid definitely going to run several tests and mutilate the corpse like it was nothing, she's not disturbed at all. Nope, it's actually you who got disturbed by her weird fetish with a dead body.

Well dating her as an assassin has also had its own perks despite it being really disturbing. She would definitely help you kill your target because of how silent she is as the target would get tortured in the most gruesome way in the action as she hides in the shadows as the target are unaware she is near.

Definitely lets you borrow her weapon when you need to kill someone and thinks it was hot as she watches you kill somebody else without mercy.

She definitely helps in the back and also in the action whenever you two need to kill a certain target. Tho, you cannot always trust her because she only helps you if you do what she wants in exchange.

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It was peaceful in the forest and the only sounds inside of the wilderness are the sound of the frogs as well as the crickets. However, that peace and silence did not last long enough until there was the sound of a footstep running with a raging breath coming out from the scared old woman.

The woman has wavy chest-length ash-blonde hair that is tied in braided into a ponytail and a pair of hazel eyes. It was hard for her to keep running away from the certain person with (E/C) eye colour and (H/C) Hair colour who would always be hidden among the darkness and the shadows.

"HELP!!! ANYONE, PLEASE HELP ME!" The woman squeaks in fear and continues running away.

The girl did not have enough strength and not seeing the small rock in front of her, causing the woman to trip and fall over. It was so painful that the girl screams in pain, holding her twisted and bleeding ankles. Her eyes would look around, trying to find anything that can help her to get away from a certain killer.

The ground suddenly shook plus with a booming sound next to the old woman. This causes the woman to look up immediately to see a giant robot that has an appearance like a giant spider as well as a pair of lavender eyes with magenta armour. On her servo, there are certain people with (E/C) eye colour and (H/C) hair colour grinning at their/her/his next victim. "Found you..." you said.

The forest was immediately surrounded by the sound of anguish from the certain old blonde woman and the ground was surrounded by the blood of the dying woman. One of Airachnid's small legs was coated with blood as Airachnid looked at you with a smug smile. "I killed her first, you're too late using your gun," she makes fun of you. "Yeah whatever congrats," you roll your eyes at your cybertronian girlfriend.

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[star-mum]

Good fucking morning to ME fellas

"if this were a real Criminal Minds episode, this would be the episode named after the reader" cant wait to get terribly hurt and maybe even tortured a little bit !!!

"reader being from Georgia" am weirdly excited about this (?)

alright, enough chit chat, lets solve a fucking crime

"Thursday, August 16th, 2007 - 3:39AM" im writing details down, this is a long one (obviously)

"The knife had felt so perfect in your hand" 👀 now was it a murder but not a crime ?

“You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Hotch" FLASH FOWARD FLASH FOWARD FLASH FOWARD

"The fact that he was still breathing" do i need to know the context to know I'm absolutely justified ? No, fuck you (Number 1 Elle Apologist)

“Reid, he specifically told us to sit this one out-” hiii Reid !!!

“What the hell is wrong with you?” : O hey ! rude !

"2:20AM" ohhh ????? (this is literally the CM format, like I can see the scenes playing out)

"that your parents used to own" fun phrasing, my arent dead right? like at least the "it" wasnt their death i think

"used to own" sounds like they sold it after It happened more than they died and the house went to someone else

when it FIRST happened????? alright, my parents could be dead but now the first time at least

(i also skipped the rest of cw to have the clearest mind while reading this)

"the other victims had been stabbed with" stabbed, not killed huh ?

I killed those women. I killed them!” AAAAH !

“He killed them because of me!” OHHH OKAY ALRIGHT, DAMN

okay if I dont ACTUALLY stab this dude, I'm gonna be so fucking pissed at Reid. Why are you yELLING AT ME ???? IM JUST A LITTLE GUY !!!!!!

“She’s the one you’re worried about? She’s a victim in all this.” YEAH !!!!

"the first time he attacked her, she fought back hard" sORRY I HAVE AN IMPECCABLE SURVIVEL INSTINCT ??? guess I'll just DIE (or worst) next time 🙄

"Rossi pointed out" Ariana what are you dOING HERE ???? (i forgot he shows up in s3)

"Tell me you like it!” literally anything I do here is fair and justified and no evidence couldn't possibly hold up in court

"This was a culling" everyone loOK AWAY, I HAVE TO GOOGLE SOMETHING

"the action of sending an inferior or surplus farm animal to be slaughtered" OOOOHHHHH DUDE !!!!

also i know it wasn't specified but born and raised in Georgia, we gotta have a southern accent and I will now read ALL OF READERS LINES as such

“It’s Miss L/N.” She said quietly. “I never married.” OH MY GOD !!!! AM I NOT ????? AM I NOT AN AGENT ????? AAAAAAAHHH WHAT ??? WHAT ????? (Worlds Dumbest Detective, you finally got here)

SUNNY WHEN I CATCH YOU SUNNY !!! YOU DID IT ON PURPOSE !!!! (or im just stupid)

"It was always the families" maybe a sister or cousin was attacked this time (?)

i need a moment that civilian reveal took a lot out of me

My daughter speaks very fondly of you.” OH THATS MY MOM !!!! OKAY !!! ALRIGHT (it's important to me that you know that I'm reading this right after waking up, so nothing stupid I say can be used against me)

What's in the fucking box? i swear to god

“I never smelled it on you back then.” so multiple times before we fought back effectively ?

“You made me a promise. No more. No more girls.” did we "agree" to what he wanted so he wouldn't hurt other girls ?

WAIT ! Now that my Senior Brain Moment has passed, I have thoughts™

if our mom "never married" did our parents live and bought a house together without a formal thing ??? or did she mean, never REmarried ? but still we go by that name? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

(.... i dont wanna say Dan's my dad but... throwing it out there just in case)

"Feeling it suffocating you like a plastic bag" drifting through the wind ?

"You had left it sitting on the passenger’s seat of the car. Right beside your phone" fuuuuuck (see I'm not the only one, who's brain is foggy, it's fine)

did he take MY Car ? cause they could've checked if it were still in the parking lot and saw both my pHONE AND GUN ?????

"why would she go with him willingly, she had a gun" one Could think that yEAH

"With my frequent correspondence and all?" so those in the shoe box were letters ?

My car WAS THERE !!! Duuuude ???? just check my car !!!!

“No more girls" but this wasn't The promise, that would have to have been before

"state lines in order to get the FBI involved in this case" okay so he Was trying to get us back here

"Women who looked strangely like you" okay so he didn't kill anyone the first time ? (if he did his AMO is very different otherwise we would've noticed it sooner)

the profile also says he could've been previously incarcerated, so he probably did go to the jail after he attacked us, I find it hard to believe we wouldn't have been keeping tabs on his sentence, so he probably escaped (?) somehow unnoticed (?)

"thee decomposition of bodies on live body farms" we did What Now ?

I know I'm probably halfway through (or less even) but no Garcia ? 🥺 i need my girlie here, I love her sm

LORE DUMP !!! Thank you Morgan !! okay give me a minute

1999 - first victim

2001 - missing person

2001-2007 - ongoing murders (26 and counting)

ah shit i gotta math now, fuck okay hold on (if i have to suffer through this then so do you)

if it's 2007 and we went into the academy right after college (forensics is a 4 year program) so... we joined, at the EARLIEST (fbi school is 4 mONTHS ?????)

damn we joined the fbi at 22 ? damn that's crazy (suck it boy genius) (heart breaking news Reid also joined the bau at 22) (jokes on him I graduated HS when I was 17 so technically *I* joined the fbi at 21) (so suck it boy genius, for real this time)

all of this is pointless cause idk how old Reader is rn ....

fuuuuuuuuck

WAIT !! fucking brain blast motherfuckers !!! what if the hiatus isn't from being arrested ????? what if that was the time of whatever the "no more girls" promise was made ????

but are we that stupid to just completely ignore the timing ???? or maybe it's been so fucking repressed is more of a "I dont want to even CONSIDER it"

okay no, I have to figure this out. Im gonna use Reid as a "base" cause we can't be younger than him but I also don't think we're that much older (lets say 5 years is our max)

1999 - we could've been 10-15

2001 - 12-17 (i actually let out a gasp) OKAY I THINK I GOT IT !!!!!

what if we graduated High school in 2001 ???? doesn't school start in the fall ????? so if we graduated class of 2001 then we would've been going to college in the fall !!!!!

NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT ????? NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT ????? I cant believe the math actually got me somewhere holy shit

OKAY !!! FINAL THESIS (theres 70% of the fic left) SO !!!

the first murder happened in 99 (we were 16) when we first attacked (i assume after, to make us more compliant after we fought back) so we agreed to whatever he said as long as he didn't hurt anymore girls, a promised he kept...

UNTIL !!! 2001 when we went to college, I'm assuming we moved AWAY for college and thats why he kidnapped that girl i September, to make us come back to town

im still trying to decide if the attack we fought back to (the one Hotch mentions in the file) was the first or last attack, makes sense either way cause if it was the last maybe it was the first act of defiance before we moved away BUT reader also said he "liked us cause we fought back" so maybe it happened many times ? and only one got processed ??? still fuzzy on this on this one ngl

"I thought you could use some sustenance!” hey Ma !!!!

"No. You couldn’t risk her telling anyone" so we did realize the connections ?

"Ma? What are you doing here?” omg southern accent confirmed !!!! hihi 🫣

"It’s not like she did much of that when you were an actual baby" tell us more about that, actually *underlines "Dan = dad ????" on my notebook like 3 times*

"For once, I have no idea.” Spencer mumbled in return" fOr oNcE i hAvE n- sHUT UP

"a small plastic bag" dRIFITING TROUGH THE WIND ?????

also ewwww I hate it when they do thag, cunty and dramatic but gross nonetheless

"You are the stars hidden by clouds" *looks at the camera like they do in The Office* ex squeeze me?

OKAY, Im not gonna google it cause I'm sure if it IS an existing poem Boy Genius will just tells us in under 5 seconds BUT could be either an existing poem or a monologue from a play

if it were something the killer wrote to US previously, we would've known immediately (and she seemed genuinely surprised when seeing him again so....)

"You hated that the quote was distinctly familiar to you. You hated how you knew it" EEEEIIIIII

"You could still hear his voice in your head, and it made your bones quake." SO WE DO KNOW IT !!!! at this point girlie ... please just TALK TO SOMEONE

"It’s Jacqueline Simon Gunn.” (suck it boy genius pt2)

"That name sounds awful familiar to me - are you from Madison?” i love having a very obvious latino last name cause yEAH YOU'D RECOGNIZE THAT (rip to y'all smiths and browns out there i guess, but im ✨ different ✨)

like don't feel like doxxing myself (know how it is) but its the same level of "cliche" as Diaz or like Santos (id say Santiago but Santos is more ✨ brazilian ✨)

"last time I saw you, you was beat to a darn pulp" that gossipy bITCH !! also what a FUN and CONVERSATIONAL memory to bring up for no reason

"summer of ‘99" I've never been wrong a DAY IN MY LIFE !!!! Okay I think he killed that girl in retaliation then (right? it's gonna be?) cause we fought him when tried to attack us in 99

"But you were still his girl" this wording could very well be both from an obsessive "lover" OR a father figure SPECIALLY if Im remembering correctly that he said "because I Love You" and not " because Im In Love With You", I feel like he might actually be our father

AND !! the original profile was of a delusional man who believed he was dating his victims BUT reid said the profile was all wrong so... (also that comment about our mom not babying us when we Were Babies...) (I've connected the dots)

"Somewhere Above America" KSKSKSKS and I'd sure hope so

"Perhaps he’s feeling ignored" which he Is, just not in the way we think

"It’s Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austin.” he keeps using specific book quotes that we recognize... like he was reading bed time stories ... ????

"Well, at least we know our UnSub’s not a woman.” She remarked sharply" ... now why would you say that? ...

i LOOOOOVE that we're going back step by step, is so fucking fun (like if were getting the facts as they happened it'd still be good, obviously, but this way is just so ✨ literature ✨)

"back to her dorm at the University of South Carolina" are they All college girls ? 👀

"You had known at least two of them. You had gone to school with them" Sunny when I catch you

"Wheels up in thirty" BINGO !!!

"Well, you know, if you ever need a calm, cozy place to sleep, you can always give me a call" 🫣 say less "As long as you don’t mind Clooney licking at your toes in the mornin’.” i said "LESS"

"taking care of chores in the morning, participating in a midday nap, and then socializing in the evening and partaking in community events before sleeping again in the evening" *screams and cries" WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME SOMETHING I COULD NEVER HAVE !!!!

"Good morning, pretty girl" YAAAAAAYYYY !!!!!

"This arrived on the mailcart for you, postmarked from a few days ago" YOU'D USE MY FAVORITE GIRL TO DELIVER ME AWFUL TERRIBLE NO GOOD NEWS ??????

"Lover" uugghhhh fiiiiinuuhhhh guess he's not our father (I've had elected to ignore the age profiled cause fuck you, i make my own rules) (also I forgot abou that)

still tho my big brained math theory still stands

"Fate has sent us on such different paths" is that what they're calling the government's watch list now?

IS THIS THE BIG REVEAL ????? UUHHHH

"The first murder took place in August of ‘99.” after the first attack

"Are you saying that Lety is involved with this in some way?” well you came to that conclusion Very Fast JJ .....

"She was being stalked.” Reid declared quietly, sounding defeated. “She still is.” which *chuckles* begs the question and Im so sorry to bring this up again... wHY WERE YOU YELLING AT ME ?????

"woman" he says, as if I wasn't fucking 16

"Can you narrow it down to women in their twenties" 20s ??????? this hurts me, this wounds me deeply (WDYM 20s ???? I DID SO MUCH MATH FOR THIS !!!!)

"“He had a very brief stint in the FBI Academy. He was kicked out 2001" all my theories out the fucking window... "he followed her to the Academy?”

I didn't even stab this fucking asshole, why is everyone being such an asshole to me ????? sure i withheld pertinent information on an on going case but iM JUST A LITTLE GUY !!!!!

"Should the heart of a killer really live on inside someone else’s body?" this will be the worms in my brain for a while now, thank you for that

"That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink" AAAAAAAAAAAHHH

okay this is so fucking long too oh my god, oKAY WOW !!!!!! Insane fucking plot, really good !!! i mentioned it already but I love that we went backwards with the information

i tried my bEST !!! to figure this one out and yet I didn't connect shit (in my mind I did tho, so that's okay !! )

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Figure It Out

A Criminal Minds Casefic

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.” -Friedrich Nietzsche 

Summary:

Since you joined the BAU, you have been keeping a terrible secret from the team.

When the team takes a case in your hometown - your festering secret comes to be known with a vengeance.

Fem!Reader x Gen!BAU Team (Platonic). General Casefic, modelled after a Criminal Minds episode. Angst, Mystery, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Criminal Minds Season 3.

Word Count: 18,000

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed Warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is a general casefic - there is no romantic pairings in this fic, it is more about the mystery of the case and how the reader character fits into it (if this were a real Criminal Minds episode, this would be the episode named after the reader) - with that being said, the main relationship focuses are between Emily and the reader and Spencer and the reader (because I am biased and I love them) but there isn’t any romantic threads or romantic tones, it is all platonic; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and is described as a woman, but I went out of my way to make sure that there is no descriptions of the readers looks or body type; there is use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); mentions of the reader being from Georgia (because the case takes place in her hometown); smoking/cigarettes - mentions of the reader character smoking tobacco; mentions of the reader character being injured (severely in a past incident, and minor injuries during the course of the fic); mentions of vomit/mentions of the reader character throwing up; lots of warnings for general Criminal Minds topics; murder, killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, violence, guns/gun violence, mentions of rape and sexual violence, mentions of systematic violence towards women; there is no graphic depictions of rape/no rape scenes in the fic, but there is mentions of the event of rape happening to certain characters, references to rape culture, and the shame/guilt/self blame a rape victim feels; mentions of stalking/stalking behaviors - including the delusion mindset of a stalker, obsessiveness, sending someone unwanted letters, mentions of a ‘one sided’ relationship; mentions of trauma/PTSD; descriptions of symptoms of PTSD; themes surrounding the cycle of violence; I did kind of purposefully make the warnings a bit more vague than I usually do, because I really don’t want to spoil the plot of this fic. But as lot as you are okay with the maturity of all these themes, you should be okay with this fic!!

A/N: This is pretty much 100% inspired by the music video for Figure It Out by Royal Blood - which the fic is named after. I highly recommend watching the music video, because it is fucking art in my opinion, but I have taken such heavy inspiration from it in terms of the style, tone, and even storyline - so the music video kind of spoils this fic. So probably watch it after you read the fic lmao. I also feel like the instrumental version of the song goes very well with this fic. This fic is not at all typical and I am terrified that people won't like it, or that they won't 'get it'. But I am very proud of it, so I am going to put it out there and hope that people enjoy it. So - please enjoy!! I really love writing Criminal Minds casefics and coming up with the details of a case, and writing it in this style was so, so exciting and interesting for me, and I really do hope that you can enjoy reading it.

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“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche 

...

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret more palpable in your lungs. 

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would soon be resigned to a cage. 

You hated it, but you had to wonder what you would have done if you had ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before they had arrived, sirens screeching, lights flashing. Your mind kept replaying the moments over and over again. The knife had felt so perfect in your hand. 

Ten more minutes. 

“I just want to talk.” 

So caught up in your thoughts, your mind so foggy from the hectic night - you had almost forgotten that there was someone sitting in front of you. 

He looked so entirely stiff - wearing his cookie cutter suit and his carved-in scowl. He did nothing to shift your mood. 

“This is just a conversation. Nothing more.” 

He continued on, using a monotone, would-be soothing voice when you didn’t say anything. 

The metal chair felt stiffer underneath you, and you felt further suffocated within that small, concrete box. 

You felt inclined to call it an interrogation, but you wouldn’t be so quick to tell him that. It’s not like you were going to tell him what he wanted to hear. 

“You can smoke in here if that makes you feel more comfortable.” He added on, pushing something from the middle of the table toward you. 

A pack of cigarettes and a lighter. There was also an ashtray. A collection of things that someone had put there, knowing that you would be resigned to this tiny, tiny room. 

“You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Hotch.” You huffed, saying his name, using the same technique that he would likely be using on you. You could mirror him, get ahead on the mind games. “I’m not as crazy and detached from reality as you think I am.” 

Perhaps that was a false statement. You weren’t even sure how crazy he thought you were. Perhaps, that in itself made you detached from reality. You couldn’t be sure. 

Nonetheless, you took him up on the offer. You reached out and eagerly picked up the pack of smokes, ripping off the outer plastic before you took one out, shoving the tip between your lips and lighting it up. 

You took a heavy draw, and the nicotine throbbed through you. Seemingly adding to the headache you already had from the large gash on your forehead that they had hastily bandaged before bringing you in here, rather than relieving it. Still, you sucked on the cigarette like it was your only lifeline - taking a moment to tap some of the ash into the small ashtray while you stared at Hotch carefully. 

You wondered if you should really tell him all the gory details. 

“Just tell me what happened. Tell me your side of the story.” Hotch said, trying his best to sound warm and convincing. It didn’t work. “I’m just trying to figure it out. Just like you are.” 

Perhaps your biggest regret was that you were here, cooped up in this hole - and he was in the hospital somewhere, laying in a soft bed, being attended to by nurses, being comforted. The fact that he was still breathing - even with the assistance of a tube down his throat, and not in a body bag.

“You’ll never look at me the same if I do tell you.” You managed to find these words, and these words only. Ominous, almost threatening - more so than you intended. 

“I won’t.” He returned. Shallow, fallible. 

Suddenly, a crash from the hallway broke the tense silence that was brewing between the two of you. The door was thick, but it wasn’t enough to disguise the ruckus coming from outside. 

“No! No! You have to let me through! I have to be in there!” 

The voice was familiar, but that tone of desperation certainly was not. 

“Reid, he specifically told us to sit this one out-” 

“Sit this one out?!” Reid repeated the words back, his voice warping with pure shock, the inability to conceptualize such a thing. “You expect me to just sit out?” He scoffed. “If it wasn’t for me, two more people would be dead, and there wouldn’t even be a ‘this one’! Now let. Me. Through.” 

“Reid-” 

With all his bolstering stubbornness, he shoved past whoever had been trying to stop him, and as you took another heavy puff off your cigarette, the interrogation room door came flying open. 

Hotch stood up, rushing to block the door, but you smiled. Though you were numb from the day’s events - it was your natural instinct upon seeing him. 

“Reid-” Hotch choked out, trying to block the gangly man from even entering the room. 

“Good evening, Doctor Reid.” You greeted him gently. 

Upon seeing your reaction - so much more open and warm - Hotch allowed him in. This was the wedge that he needed to pry you open. Reid closed the door behind himself with an indigent huff and a glare toward his superior. 

Reid crossed his arms, hovering near the door as he turned his stiff-jawed glare toward you now. Your cigarette turned to a hot cherry in your hands - sucked to death already, and you stubbed it out in the tray before starting a new one. You knew chain-smoking was an even filthier habit than the occasional ciggy, but you had one hell of a day under your belt. If there was ever a time, it was now. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Reid asked, his voice stiff and oppositional. 

“Oh, so many things.” You said, your tone clever and unphased. Hotch let out a sigh as he sat back down in his chair. He was glad that you were talking openly now, at least. “Shall we go in alphabetical order, or start at my birth and work or way back from there?” 

Reid let out another nasal thick sound. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for banter. 

You were met with nothing but a stony wall of silence, and cold glares of disapproval. It almost made you feel guilty. Almost. 

“Let’s start with this,” Reid corrected you. “Why?” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself. 

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.” 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

Prentiss led the team as they searched through the house. It was the only solid lead they had as to where you might be. It was a house that your parents used to own - a place of significance because you had lived there the summer when it first happened. 

“Clear!” 

She went through the living room, the kitchen, the entire first floor, leading the team with Reid at her side, guns drawn. 

“Clear!” 

As she crested the top of the stairs, she heard sobbing. 

It was distinct - something that tugged harshly on her heartstrings. 

Even though it was against protocol not to clear the rooms in order, she rushed toward it. Reid continued to flank her - obviously he had heard the noise too. 

Prentiss landed a sharp kick on the door’s handle, causing it to fling open. 

The picture on display in front of her almost caused her to drop her gun. 

Hotch had been right. 

You were on top of the man, straddling him. Both you and the man were badly beaten - but right off the bat, Prentiss could tell that he was far worse off. Clearly, you had bested him in the fight this time. 

The contents of the room strewn about; broken glass, busted furniture, the curtain rod torn down. It looked like the remnants of a bad WWE brawl. You were the picture of desperation - heavy, hot tears coming from your eyes, blood smearing down your face from a gash on your forehead as you stared down the man beneath you with fiery madness in your eyes. 

You had a knife to his throat. A large hunting knife - the same kind that all the other victims had been stabbed with. 

You had the tip of it poised to his throat, just barely touching his skin. If you put any amount of pressure on the blade - if you bared down, then you would slice right through his esophagus. It would take almost no effort from you at all to end his life. 

From what Prentiss could see, the man was unconscious. He was completely slack, his body still on the ground. He was bleeding from a small head wound. His life was entirely in your hands. He couldn’t fight back. 

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of the confrontation with your life’s biggest monster. 

Though it went against everything inside of her, Emily kept her gun raised. She kept her arms stiff, keeping her gun pointed at you. As much as she detested that man, knowing what he had done - it was her job to shoot you if you tried to kill him. Right now, she hated that job. 

“Put the knife down!” Prentiss ordered sharply. 

You didn’t move. 

Naturally, Reid, in all of his softness and empathy, slackened his arms and holstered his gun before anyone could blink. 

“Come on, put it down.” She tried again. 

You ignored Prentiss entirely, your hands still shaking, making no moves to lift the knife away from the man’s throat. 

Reid moved to step into the room, and from his view at the top of the stairs, arms stiff and gun pointed in your general direction - Hotch called out to him. 

“Reid-!” He tried to warn Reid against doing this. Of course, he didn’t listen. 

Reid knelt down beside you, posturing in surrender with his arms. Of course, he wasn’t even on your radar at the moment. Your entire gaze, your entire focus was on the unconscious man underneath you - the true target of your agony. 

“Y/N,” Reid said your name calmly, trying to capture your attention. “You don’t have to do this.” 

You hesitated for a moment, and Prentiss worried that even his gentle voice wouldn’t be able to get through to you. 

“I have to.” You sobbed out. More heavy tears slid down your face, and you began to shake more visibly, shockwaves moving throughout your entire body. 

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.” 

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls. 

It made Prentiss’ heart jump inside of her chest. If it wasn’t protocol, she would have dropped her gun and run over to comfort you with a hug. But she knew that you weren’t in the most stable place. You might have tried to stab her with the knife. 

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-” 

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, trampling over his quiet voice. “I killed those women. I killed them!” 

“Prentiss!” Hotch edged in, warning her. 

If you didn’t move off of the unconscious man soon, then she would have to take you down. 

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back. She had faith in Reid. 

“We both know that’s not true.” Reid told you. “You didn’t kill them. You didn’t mean for this to happen-” 

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.” 

There was a gutting silence. 

“Please, just give me the knife.” 

At this point he was doing some pleading of his own - but your hands were unsteady and you still refused to look at him. 

You weren’t going to give up the fight that easily. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Somewhere On The Country Backroads - Madison, GA. 2:11AM.

“I want two squad cars down the road, I want state police cutting off all the possible exits to the major highways.” Agent Hotchner was on the scene, doing what he did best - giving orders. “I want to cut off any chance of possible escape incase the suspect tries to flee-” 

“Hotch, do you really think that’s necessary?” Morgan asked. “We’ve got the house. Thermal cam’s got two bodies on the second floor. There’s nowhere to run from here. We’ve got spike strips on all the dirt roads. No car is getting past any of that. It should function as a hard extraction from here.” 

Hotch glared at Morgan as he fastened the straps on his bulletproof vest. The glare of the red and blue lights from the squad cars only made the deep frown lines on his face look firmer. 

“I am not taking any chances.” Hotch said. “We both know this is an incredibly delicate matter. We found one of the victims across state lines. We know this suspect has mobility. I’m not risking finding another body.” 

The air became tense as everyone realized what he meant by ‘another body’. 

“I want tactical swat to go in first-” Hotch began, and was quickly cut off by Morgan. 

“You’re sending in swat when there’s a hostage in there?” Morgan questioned harshly. 

“Even if we go in there blazing, showing force, she might not come in quietly.” Hotch explained.

“You’re serious?” Prentiss replied, hooking the wire of her earpiece around her ear in order to tuck the mic in. “She’s the one you’re worried about? She’s a victim in all this.” 

“You saw the incident report.” Hotch reminded her. “The amount of defensive wounds she had… the first time he attacked her, she fought back hard. She’s desperate, she’s feeling cornered, she-” 

“She’s terrified right now.” Prentiss pressed harshly. “She doesn’t need a bunch of men going in there waving guns in her face.” 

“She could sacrifice him.” Hotch theorized, further trying to prove his point. “This could be her chance to finally get justice. Finally getting rid of the man who’s tormented her for all these years.”

“So we have to bring them both in. Quietly.” Morgan said. “We can’t just go in there shooting. If your theory is correct, then she could use him as a human shield.” 

Hotch nodded. “Fine. No tactical swat. Prentiss, you take the lead.” 

“Yeah, and I’m taking Reid with me.” Prentiss told him sharply. “Somebody with a little compassion around here.” 

Prentiss nodded and scoffed, walking past Hotch, gently whispering ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ on her way to get in the car with Reid. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

When JJ let out a harsh sigh, Emily turned to her, swiveling in the borrowed office chair with a creak. 

“What is it?” Emily asked. 

“Don’t you feel that?” JJ replied. Emily shrugged, waiting a moment for her to finish the thought. “That… overwhelming feeling of dread?” 

Of course, it was obvious. No leads. No breaks in the case. 

It was hopeless. 

“Come on, I thought you were the hopeful one.” Rossi pointed out, tossing his empty paper coffee cup into a nearby trash can. 

“How can I be hopeful when one of my best friends is caught up in all this?” JJ fired back. “If she-” 

Before she could finish that thought, Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention. 

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.” 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

You knew that it was cruel, but you couldn’t help but to enjoy his groans of pain. 

There had been so many others - so many monsters to take down. So many men that you had gotten rid of without a second thought. Men you had put bullets in that didn’t mean as much to you as this. So many others you had easily forgotten about. But he had taunted your soul in a special way. And you knew that you were enjoying this too much. 

“Tell me you like it!” 

You screamed, taking another downward swing with the piece of wood - a leg broken off from the chair he had bound you to. He had been convinced that you wouldn’t break free. Laughable. He should have known better.  

When he didn’t respond, you took another swing. 

You could have stopped. You could have ended it. But you didn’t. 

“Come on, tell me you like it!” 

You screamed in his face, sputtering blood across him. At one point, he had punched you in the mouth. You weren’t exactly sure where the blood was coming from. You didn’t exactly care.

That would be your excuse.  

He had hit you too. You were battered. You were just a fragile woman, after all. 

“You’re a fuckin’ crazy bitch.” He coughed, sputtering out some blood himself. “I… I always liked that about you. It was one of the reasons I fell in love.” 

He grinned - bright red spread out across his teeth, and it gave you the intense desire to see those teeth missing. To make him swallow them. 

“You don’t love me.” You told him firmly. “You just get an adrenaline rush from being around me because I’m not afraid of you.” You explained. “Unlike the other whores, I fight.” 

While you were preoccupied with the words, he flipped onto his stomach and began crawling across the floor. 

He thought you were too stupid to notice, but he was inching his way toward the hunting knife that had been thrown out of his hand during the scuffle. It was a slow, sluggish crawl. You had broken a few of his ribs, his kneecap. It was nice to see him so slow. You had probably severely damaged his internal organs with how hard you had been beating him with the makeshift baton. 

It was worse than last time. You stood above him like a menace - watching and waiting. You hated that you knew you would take an odd kind of joy in removing his hope when you stole the knife from his grip. 

Just as he grazed his fingers across it, you brought another harsh swing down across his achilles tendon, causing him to scream out in pain. 

You still had a lot of strength left in you. He was tiring out. 

He was losing the game. 

“Come on baby, tell me how you like it.” You continued to mock him. “Tell me how good I am.” 

“Fuck you.” He moaned out. 

You felt satisfaction bloom inside of you - those were the words. 

He had finally given up hope. He had finally realized that maybe: he wasn’t going to beat you. Maybe he wasn’t above you on the playing field anymore. He was fucking around with a fellow predator, not toying with his prey.  

“Oh baby. You know I’m only doing this because I love you.” You said, repeating his own words back to him in a cruel mockery. 

That was when he realized: this wasn’t just a lover’s spat. This was a culling. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Just Outside of Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:04AM.

Reid needed some air. 

Working on the case so diligently, not coming up with any leads. It was intensely difficult. Letting the balmy summer Southern air flow over him, getting a good gulp of the fresh air into his lungs - it was a bit more awakening than drinking his sixth cup of coffee for that day. 

He was surprised when he rounded a corner, trying to go for a short walk to stretch his legs, and he saw a very recognizable face hovering near a gray Honda. 

“Mrs. L/N?” He posed, approaching her gently. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

JJ had promised to call her if there were any updates. Reid didn’t want to disappoint her by telling her that there were none. 

“It’s Miss L/N.” She said quietly. “I never married.” 

Reid nodded at this. “My apologies.” 

She looked deeply troubled. 

Reid waited patiently for her to reply to his initial question - for her to tell him whatever was burdening her. If he was lucky, it could help with the case. It was always the families who could help put those final puzzle pieces into place. That was something Gideon taught him, so he took it as sacred advice. 

“You’re Doctor Reid, aren’t you?” She posed, stepping forward to approach him slightly - still stiff, still stand-off-ish. He easily understood why. He nodded in response. “My daughter speaks very fondly of you.” 

Reid cracked a small smile at this. 

His attention was then brought to a small box - a shoe box as she held it out to him. 

“I don’t mean to bother you at this late hour, but… you said to let you know if I thought of anything that might help you.” She reminded him. He nodded again. “And I - well, the reason I didn’t bring these up the first time… you can understand that I have a need to protect my daughter?” 

“Of course.” He affirmed. “It’s every parent’s natural instinct to protect their child.” 

She looked solemn at his words. 

“I had no idea that… that what happened to her could potentially be connected to these… these murders in any possible way.” She told him, shuddering as the word passed through her lips. “I was just trying to shield her, you have to understand.” 

She handed him the shoebox, and when he took it and lifted off the lid, it took him only a moment to understand. He would need to find a quiet place to fully inspect the contents, but it was all being pieced together in his mind now. 

“Thank you for bringing me this.” He told her quietly. 

“Doctor Reid, you have to promise me that you’ll bring my daughter home unharmed.” She said, tears coming to her eyes. “She’s a good girl. Please, just bring her home.” 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t promise her that. Not under the circumstances. 

“Ma’am… I will try my best. That is all I can promise you.” He told her. 

She nodded in quiet understanding before Reid turned and marched back inside. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 11:03PM.

The flint of the lighter flicking seemed to be the loudest thing in the room in that moment - even with the low hum of the eleven o’clock news playing in the background. 

It was so odd. Everything was exactly like you remembered it. Withered - but the same. 

Even the chair you were sitting in. The old wooden chair that had been lugged up from the kitchen, one that you used to sit in for hours and do homework - it was rickety, but somehow the same. 

You took a sharp drag off the cigarette after it was lit for you, continuing to listen to the feminine voice on the radio as the news played. 

“I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, and I’m speaking on behalf of the Madison Police Department. Tonight, we are making an urgent appeal to the public for information. Earlier this evening, a woman went missing in the area of-” 

“I never took you for a smoker.” He said, his voice sharp and confident in the words. 

You tapped your cigarette into the ashtray with your free hand before raising it up to your lips to take another drag. Right now, the smoke heavy in your lungs was the only thing keeping you sane. 

“I never smelled it on you back then.” He added on when you didn’t respond to him. “Bitches who smoke always smell like dirtbags. You just… smelled nice.” 

“I didn’t smoke back then.” You quietly replied. 

He had driven you to take up the habit. 

You took another drag of your cigarette - you wanted to enjoy it. The longer you could drag it out, literally, the longer you could delay the inevitable. 

“-The suspect was last seen driving a blue and white, 1970s Ford truck. If you see the vehicle, please-” 

“They’re lookin’ for ya.” He said casually, nodding toward the radio. 

You wished they weren’t. 

You directed the conversation elsewhere. 

“Tell me how this is gonna end.” You urged him quietly, ashing your cigarette again. 

“You and I both know… this was only ever gonna end one way.” He told you, his voice irritably cocky. 

He had you now. He had won. 

“-We believe that this abduction is connected to a string of recent murders in the area. It is critical that if you have any information, you call our tip line at-” 

He rose from his spot then, and turned off the radio. 

The silence was gutting. 

He moved toward the door, but you abruptly caught his attention. 

“Remember,” You told him. “You made me a promise.” You said quietly. “No more. No more girls.” 

He chuckled at this. “Of course, darlin’. No more.” 

It felt like a lie. 

“But only because I love you.” He gave a filthy grin along with these words, and your insides shuddered. 

You knew that he wasn’t actually capable of love. You had known that from the moment you first laid eyes on him. 

You didn’t bother to muster any words in return. 

He crossed the room back toward you and leaned down, planting a kiss on your forehead. Your body stiffened, entirely stony toward it. It was selfish on his part - loving on you like a doll, rather than trying to bring you any comfort. 

He moved back to the door silently. 

You worried about what would happen the moment he went out the door. He turned to you just before he left. 

“Don’t run off now.” He said with a wink. Ego. Sarcasm. 

“Where am I gonna go, Dan?” You sighed. 

You lifted your tethered hand up to drive the point home, and the clink of handcuffs was now apparent in the otherwise silent room. 

He shut the door with a chuckle. You put out your cigarette in the ashtray, reaching for the loose spoke in the back of the chair. This was a chair that you used to sit in for hours while studying. That loose spoke used to bug you all the time. 

It came free after only a few tugs. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 10:24PM.

The previously dark parking lot of the secluded, back country convenience store was now entirely lit up with red and blue. Four police cars had crowded into the area, surrounding the place where you had last been seen. 

Inside, under the harsh white fluorescent lights of the store, Hotchner and Prentiss were interviewing the store clerk - a young man who had supposedly been the last person to speak to you before the abduction. 

“So, you’re sure that you didn’t see anything?” Hotch pressed the young man - someone who seemed so entirely nervous under his harsh, unmoving gaze. 

“I swear, man, I didn’t see anything.” He said, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. “She was parked in the back of the parking lot, and once you walk around the corner, there’s no way to see someone through the doors. It’s like - like a total blind spot, man.” 

“The UnSub had to have known that.” Hotch noted quietly, turning to Prentiss. “He approached her knowing that he wouldn’t be seen.” 

“Do you think he was waiting out there?” Prentiss wondered aloud. 

Then she turned back to the clerk. 

“Was there a man in here before she came in? He would have been in his 30s. Very cold, he wouldn’t have said anything. Just paid quietly and left. He might not have even bought anything - he might have just walked around, checking the blind spots. And if you asked him what he was looking for, he would have given you a glare rather than speaking. This man is not sociable. He’s very distant. He likely wouldn’t have looked you in the eye.” 

The clerk shook his head. 

“No, nobody like that.” He explained. “That lady - she was my first customer in, like, hours. She just bought her ciggies and left. And I thought it was weird cause she bought a lighter too. Most smokers already have a lighter on them.” 

“I didn’t know Y/N smoked.” Prentiss said quietly. 

“Me either.” Hotch confirmed. 

Hotch’s attention was captured by a screen behind the counter - surveillance feed, showing several different places inside the store. There was one camera just outside the door. If he wasn’t mistaken, that camera was pointed at that ‘blind spot’ in the parking lot. 

Without asking permission, he raised the partition and walked around the counter, his eyes hyper-focused on the screen. 

“Can you get me this footage from a few hours ago?” He prompted toward the clerk. “The view of the parking lot. We need to see what L/N did after she left the store.” 

The clerk nodded and began typing things onto the keyboard, and Hotch prompted him to stop when he saw you appear on the footage. Prentiss came around the counter as well, leaving the three of them crowded in close to the small screen as they watched the past version of you. 

You walked across the parking lot - toward your car, a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. You were making determined steps - until something stopped you. 

“The UnSub caught her attention.” Prentiss noted. 

Then - something entirely strange happened. While staring at the man off screen, you leaned against your car, and began ashing your cigarette, as if chatting idly with him. 

“He’s not using force.” Hotch thought aloud. “Do you think he’s got a gun trained on her?” 

“Maybe.” Prentiss hummed quietly. 

He was out of the frame, so it was only a guess. 

Then, after a few moments of this - you simply walked off. You walked in the direction he had been standing. 

“Did - did she just go with him willingly?” Prentiss gaped, entirely in shock. 

When she glanced over her shoulder, Hotch was gone. 

He stormed out into the parking lot, frantically gazing around. Prentiss followed him, chasing his chaotic energy. 

“Hotch!” She called out. “Hotch-!” 

“We need more camera angles! We need-” 

“Calm down.” She urged, grabbing him by the shoulders. 

“It just doesn’t make any sense.” He rasped. “Why would she go with him willingly? Why - why? Why would she?” He was frantic. “He must have threatened her. He must have-” 

They both didn’t want to think of the obvious. 

That you didn’t fear him. That - it hadn’t even been an abduction. 

“He must have threatened her.” Prentiss easily agreed. “She wouldn’t have gone with him otherwise.” 

They didn’t bring up the fact that you had a gun and plenty of training on how to use it. They didn’t bring up the fact that the profile said the UnSub couldn’t easily charm - he would have kidnapped you by force. 

Unless you were special. Unless he thought he could talk to you specifically for some reason. 

“Guys, what’s the news?” JJ asked, finally walking onto the scene. 

She hated the grave looks on Prentiss and Hotch’s faces. 

“I want you to put a press conference together.” Hotch said, straightening himself out and turning to her. “Make an appeal for witnesses. Tell them that there’s been a woman abducted in the area, but don’t tell them that L/N a Federal Agent. It could set the UnSub off if he believes that this abduction is being treated with a higher priority. If he feels a higher pressure from law enforcement, he might-” 

“Right.” JJ nodded. Hotch didn’t need to say the words in order for her to understand. “So: release her name and her photo, but act like she’s just a regular civilian?” 

Hotch nodded. “Exactly.” 

“If I get going now, I think I could still make the eleven o’clock news.” JJ said, rushing off with her cell pressed to her ear. 

“Let’s just hope that it brings Y/N home safely.” 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 8:03PM.

You felt an odd amount of relief having nicotine in your system again. 

This was the first time you had smoked a cigarette in years. You had quit the habit shortly after you joined the FBI Academy when one of your advisers warned you that it might cause you to fail the fitness test. And you felt like you should just knock the habit, seeing as the only reason you had taken it up was because of… him. 

But - all of this was so triggering. Being back in your same small shitty town. Feeling it suffocating you like a plastic bag. 

The murders. 

You sucked on the cigarette for dear life as you walked back to your car, and just as you were about to get in - the windows of the car open, inviting in the sweet summer air, the keys still inside because you did feel an odd amount of trust in your hometown - something captured your attention. 

“Y/N.” 

Hearing your name in that voice made you freeze on the spot. The warm breeze felt like ice against your skin as you took your hand off the door handle, turning toward him. 

“You’re lookin’ gorgeous as ever, darlin’.” 

“You.” You ground out the word with as much disdain as possible, hot rage boiling in your blood as you looked at him. “I should have known it was you.” 

He let out a sharp chuckle - a sound that made your throat tighten up. He flicked his tongue out across his teeth, grinning his terrible Cheshire grin at you. 

A hand instinctively went for your gun, and your palm hit an empty section of your belt. He let out another sharp chuckle when his eyes followed yours, making the same realization that you did. 

You had left it sitting on the passenger’s seat of the car. Right beside your phone. 

You wondered if you could dive through the open window before he could get to you. When he made a posturing move, brushing his unbuttoned plaid shirt away and revealing the gun he had strapped to his belt underneath - you realized he would shoot you if you moved too quickly. 

You were stuck. 

“Of course it’s me, baby.” He said, casually replying to your earlier words. “You had to know that I did all this for you. For us.” 

Giving into your fate, you propped yourself against the side of the car - trying desperately to steady your wobbling legs without making it look like you were doing so. You tapped your cigarette, spilling some of the ash before you brought it to your lips once again. 

“I missed you like hell.” He told you with a snakeskin grin. 

“I didn’t miss you.” You bitterly fired back. “Not for a fucking second.” 

“Guess I made it difficult to miss me, huh?” He said, cocky as ever. “With my frequent correspondence and all?” 

“You know what I meant.” You fired back.

You glared at him sharply but didn’t say anything more, afraid that he would whip the gun out and shoot you. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, something that sounded utterly sarcastic. 

“Ooh, darlin’ that’s harsh.” He said. “That would almost hurt. If I didn’t know the truth.” 

You wanted to argue. You took in another large drag to help hold your tongue. You knew the results of arguing with him - it wasn’t worth it. 

“So… I think you know how this goes.” He announced. “You can come with me now. Or… I can go get another girl.” 

“No more girls.” You told him. “I’m here now. You won. Whatever business you have - it’s with me.” 

You stamped out your cigarette as you walked toward him, and your phone began to ring on the front seat as his truck rumbled to life and pulled out of the parking lot. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 7:26PM.

“Hello! Everyone, listen up.” Hotch called everyone to attention as the local police continued to filter in, most of them standing around with cups of coffee in hand or notebooks out, ready to take notes. “We’re ready to give the profile.” 

“Yes, and please keep in mind that this is just a general set of guidelines describing the suspect.” Rossi said. “This is not a concrete list of things you should be looking for. A profile is more useful in the elimination of suspects, rather than the inclusion of them.” 

He then turned to Derek, who began reciting the profile that the team had put together so far. 

“This UnSub, or Unknown Subject, is most likely a white male in his thirties to forties.” Morgan explained. “He drives an American made vehicle, something large enough to conceal and transport victims, and something that has off-road capability in order to get to the more secluded areas where some of the bodies were found. So think trucks, heavy duty vans, anything with thick treads on the tires and a large payload. And his vehicle will most likely be in a more discreet color. This guy won’t be driving around in something flashy. He’ll be in something that blends into the background, like a beige or black truck.” 

“So what?” One of the local cops piped up. “We put out an APB for every single heavy duty black truck in the area? This is the south, do you have any idea how many people around here drive a truck? Especially ones driven by men in their forties.” 

“There’s more.” Hotch noted, looking toward you. 

“This UnSub likely believes that he is dating these women in some capacity before he kills them.” You explained. “He has left scraps of poetry at the scenes, pages of romance novels - several of the victims had wine in their stomachs or burns from candle wax on their skin. And it’s highly likely that he turns violent when the women reject his advances, or don’t live up to the fictionalized relationship he has made up about them in his mind.” 

“How does that help us?” Someone asked. 

“Well, it’s very likely that he frequents the same hunting grounds.” Rossi explained. “We encourage you to go to local bars, and nightclubs, even gyms or cafes and pass out the profile to women who fit this type.” He said, motioning toward the pictures of the other victims. “He will be on the hunt again soon, and he has a very narrow hunting ground, living in such a lowly populated area. So we might be able to catch him off guard if his potential victims have the profile as well.” 

“This man is romantic, but he’s not charming.” You added on. “He isn’t sociable. He’s very cocky, very self-centered. He believes that he is God’s gift to women, and he has a very fractured sense of reality in general. If women reject him in everyday interactions, he will get noticeably irritated, and even violent. So he will be remembered as an unpleasant person in most women’s stories.” 

“This UnSub most likely has an inside knowledge of law enforcement.” Reid stated. “But, because he has a very antisocial personality, he wouldn’t do well working with the public. We currently have our analyst combing through files of those who flunked out of the police academy or live in the area and are retired from the military in some capacity. We believe that he might have even been in prison for an unrelated crime or institutionalized at some point, giving him a close look at the inner workings of law enforcement, and also attributing to the large break between the first two crimes.” 

Reid took a breath, and then continued on. 

“He was knowledgeable enough to purposefully dump one of the bodies across state lines in order to get the FBI involved in this case, but it was just one of the bodies, and it was dumped in a very well trackied area where it would be found. So that leaves a heavy insistence that he was fed-up with the local police not giving his case enough attention or - simply not being smart enough to keep up with him.” He explained. 

“He is very cocky.” Prentiss added on. “Incredibly over-confident. He is a narcissist to his core, and he believes that he will never be caught unless he wants to be. He thinks that he has an intricate cat-and-mouse game with law enforcement, and he can go off the grid and disappear at any time that he wants.” 

“Well… isn’t that true?” One of the cops asked. “I mean, the guy’s been at it for years and we still haven’t caught him. There’s no DNA, no real leads.” 

Hotch hummed, nodding. And then he walked over to the evidence board and motioned to the pictures of the two most recent victims - barely recognizable compared to the shining, smiling photos their families had provided. 

“We believe that he’s decompensating.” Hotch explained. “He is growing more violent toward each victim, which means that he is getting more sloppy - eventually, he will go off-book. He will break his routine in some way, and that will be the moment he’ll give us something to catch him with.” 

“So… you’re just waiting for him to kill again so you can actually catch the guy?” Someone asked sharply. 

“No.” You easily replied. “We’re praying it doesn’t come to that.” 

“Thank you everyone.” Hotch said, clearing his throat, giving an unconscious signal for everyone to disperse. “That’ll be all for now.” 

Everyone easily fell under his authority, and meandered back to what they had been doing before, now armed with the profile and ready to distribute it to members of the public, to the potential victims. 

You had a harshly, sickly feeling in your stomach as you gathered some of your files. It was the same feeling that had been turning your guts into knots since you had arrived back in Madison for the first time in years. Your eye accidentally caught the evidence board - the tall, intimidating wall lined with the gruesome photos of all the women. 

Women who looked strangely like you. Same hair color, same skin tone, same body type. All of them horribly brutalized and left for dead. All of them terrorized, tortured right up until their last moments.  

“Hey.” 

JJ’s voice snapped you out of your swirling dark cloud of thoughts, drawing your eyes away from the evidence board with a gentle hand on your upper arm. You huffed out a harsh breath as you let her guide you, turning around to face the blonde woman as she stared you down with a distinct look of concern knit across her features. 

“Are you okay?” She asked. “I’ve never seen you like this.” 

She had a point. You had been doing this job for some time. You had gone to the FBI Academy straight out of college, after getting a degree in criminal forensics. And none of it ever bothered you. You had learned about the study of blood spatter and the decomposition of bodies on live body farms, and you never flinched. 

But this case - it was getting to you. 

It was likely the first time anybody on the team had ever seen you so disturbed. 

“I’m fine.” You lied, trying to shrug off her touch. 

“Come on.” JJ sighed in return. “I don’t need to be a profiler to figure out that was a big fat lie.” 

You rolled your eyes at this. 

“You’re so brilliant.” You let out a sigh of your own, and put down your files on the nearby conference room table. You stretched out your back, deciding that you would give her an inch, hoping that she wouldn’t take a mile. “I’m freaked out. So what? Doesn’t everybody have room for a bad day?” 

“Of course.” She nodded. “Of course, you can have a bad day.” Her lips pursed, and you knew there was more coming. “Is - is it anything more than that?” 

“I’m tired.” You lied again, hoping she wouldn’t call you out on it this time. “It’s been - what? More than twenty hours since we landed. For these guys it’s been years, searching for this bastard. I wanna catch him.” 

“We will.” JJ assured you, sounding rather dull in her declaration. 

“I’m gonna drive down the street and grab an energy drink or something.” You announced, grabbing your blazer off a nearby chair and putting it on. Not that you would need a jacket with the southern weather - but your cash and your keys were in the pockets. 

“I thought you quit Redbull.” She chuckled. 

“It’s been one of those days.” You replied, shaking your head as you walked out of the room. 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 5:13PM.

“There’s still one thing that’s buggin’ the hell out of me.” Morgan announced as he walked back into the room with a fresh cup of coffee in hand. 

“That is?” You posed, looking up from the stack of personal files - potential suspects - that you were reading in order to engage him in the conversation. 

“What is with the two year hiatus from this guy?” He said, motioning to the board. 

The first victim had been abducted and killed all the way back in the summer of ‘99, but none of the other victims matched up until a missing person from September of 2001. And from there, the killings picked up in frequency - and the killer had taken over twenty six victims in and around Madison up until now. 

“It is weird.” You commented. “Usually after the first kill is when an UnSub is the most hungry for more. After that first taste for violence.” 

Morgan raised a brow at your strange choice of words and you shrugged it off. 

“Maybe he was hospitalized.” Reid said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere to make this comment, studying the board with his own intense expression. “Institutionalized? Maybe he was arrested for something completely unrelated, like - drugs, outstanding traffic violations?” 

“That’s helpful.” You sighed. 

“It could be.” Reid replied, sipping his own coffee. “I mean, we theorized that this UnSub has pre-existing knowledge of law enforcement - if he was in prison, maybe he was reading up on the law while he was in there? Who has closer knowledge of the law than ex-cons?” 

“Good point.” Morgan nodded. “I’ll call Garcia and have her widen the search.” 

“She is gonna love that.” You mumbled under your breath, already frustrated with the large pile of potential suspects you had to go through. 

Morgan took out his cell and walked into the other room, and you heard a distant ‘hey mama!’ as he chirped to Garcia on the other end. 

Then, you heard another voice that was all too familiar to you. 

“See, you’ve all just been working so hard, I thought you could use some sustenance!” 

It was your mother. 

You rushed out of your seat to find her in the middle of the bullpen, handing out muffins from a large basket that she had in her hand. 

It wasn’t entirely surprising to you, but it made your stomach sink. She was too much of a social butterfly for your liking. She knew about the last time you had been in this police station, she talked too much. No. You couldn’t risk her telling anyone. 

“See, that one’s blueberry, you like blueberry?” She was chatting idly, being her usual overly social self. 

“Yes, thank you so much Ms. L/N,” Prentiss smiled as your mother pushed more food into her hands. 

“Oh please, call me-” 

You knew that you must have looked like a storm, walking toward her with a scowl on your face. 

“Ma!” You barked, much harsher than you meant to, causing her to look up at you abruptly. “Ma? What are you doing here?” 

“Well see, you’ve been here all day, and you’ve been working so hard, so I made dinner for you and your friends,” She grinned, motioning toward a large tinfoil tray filled with mac and cheese that she had placed onto one of the desks next to a stack of paper plates and plastic forks. Naturally, a chunk of it was already missing. 

You wanted to scream when Reid walked over and began scooping out a portion for himself. 

“Ma, they’re not my friends, they’re my co-workers.” You said, exasperation ripe in your voice. 

You knew that this, too, ended up sounding much harsher than you had intended. As if you didn’t think of these people as friends. But you couldn’t stand the woman babying you. It’s not like she did much of that when you were an actual baby. 

“I’m an adult now, and-” You continued on, and she cut you off. 

“Oh yes, yes.” She nodded, reaching out to pinch your cheek in an utterly frustrating way. “Your co-workers.” 

“Please, Ma.” You sighed. “You can’t be here right now. This is a police station, not a bake sale.” 

“She can stay for a few minutes, can’t she?” Prentiss grinned, peeling the wrapper off her muffin. “We can take a break for dinner. I wanna hear some childhood stories about you.” 

Reid looked up eagerly at this, and you glared at both of them. 

“Oh, you should hear about the time she painted her face blue with the paint from-” Your mother began to tell a delightful embarrassing story, but you cut her off. 

“No.” You said sharply. “I’m sorry, but we have work to do. Important work. Once we actually catch the guy, I’ll bring everyone by the house for tea and cookies and you can show everyone my naked baby pictures, the whole nine yards. Just - not now.” 

You unceremoniously ripped the basket of muffins out of her hands and placed them on the desk beside the tray of mac and cheese, and she began to argue with you, calling you rude, telling you that she had raised you with better manners while you ushered her out the door. 

Prentiss and Reid exchanged a particular, concerned look as they watched you and your mother argue through the glass doors of the precinct. 

“Now what do you think that was all about?” Emily asked quietly. 

“For once, I have no idea.” Spencer mumbled in return. 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Georgia Highway 72 - Madison, GA. 1:32PM.

“This is new.” Morgan noted as the two of you walked away from the SVU, approaching the dumpsite where the latest victim’s body had been found. “This guy doesn’t usually dump bodies out in the open. You think he was in a rush?” 

The two of you had been sent to check it out while Hotch and Prentiss spoke to the family, and the others went over evidence from the many pre-existing cases at the station. 

“Not likely.” You replied. “Preliminary report says there’s still no DNA, no skid marks from his tires, no shoe prints. He’s not getting sloppy.” You felt a sickly wave of vomit splash up as you looked at the woman - her ankles sticking out of the tall grass just off the edge of the highway, where she had been left, entirely visible for anybody passing by to see. “This was a present. Like a fuckin’ cat leaving a dead mouse on the porch. He wanted us to find her. And he wanted us to find her quickly.” 

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Morgan noted, tentatively stepping into the grass and gently moving the long spokes of greenery back to get a better look at the victim. “He’s definitely escalating.” 

You crouched down to get a better look yourself, and you had to agree. 

Her face was almost entirely caved in, but it appeared to be from a series of blunt hits, and not from a singular swing with a heavy object. Between the pre-mortem swelling and the post-mortem rage, where he had continued to mutilate her even after her death, she was practically unrecognizable from the photo that her family had provided you with. The only reason the team had been able to confirm her identity for sure was that she had been reported missing, and she had been found wearing a unique custom charm bracelet that her parents could confirm belonged to her. 

You wished that you could guarantee they would never see her body in this state. 

“What’s that?” Morgan wondered aloud. 

You hummed back in confusion. 

Before you could wonder any further about what he meant, he reached out and gently pried open the victim’s mouth, fishing out a small piece of plastic that he had seen sticking out from the corner of her swollen, bruised lips. He had to fight to get it out of her stiff, death rigored body, but when he was able to - a small plastic bag came out of her mouth. 

A small plastic bag containing a piece of white paper. 

“What the hell?” Morgan mumbled quietly. 

Naturally, he opened the bag and took out the paper, and you looked on with nervous curiosity as he read what was on the note. 

“You are the stars hidden by clouds.” He read aloud. “I know you’re there even when I can’t see you. Your shine peeks out and reaches me in the depths of my soul. Tell me your arms are long enough to reach me across oceans. Tell me someday we will be together, somehow, some way. Tell me that this love we have can survive being together as well as we’ve survived being apart. Tell me we are more than the chasm of our divide.” 

Bile splashed up in your throat. 

You hated that the quote was distinctly familiar to you. You hated how you knew it. 

You could still hear his voice in your head, and it made your bones quake. 

“Hmm.” Morgan looked over the paper thoughtfully. “It’s another page ripped out of a book. Just like the other one. I’ll call Garcia and have her look it up, maybe-” 

“You don’t have to.” You said, hoping that your throat wasn’t too painfully constricted around your words. “It’s Jacqueline Simon Gunn.” 

Morgan easily saw the haunted look behind your eyes - the years old terror that you were having a much harder time suppressing now. 

Oddly enough, it was a feeling that he knew well. Perhaps that’s why he saw it in you so easily. 

“You alright?” He bothered to ask, even though he knew the answer was ‘no’. 

“I’m fine.” You lied. “We should bring this back to everyone else.” 

You rushed away from the crime scene like a bat out of hell, and even though he knew he should have pressed further - he let you. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 10:08AM.

“Good morning, y’all.” 

The BAU was greeted by Chief Dalton, the Madison County Chief of Police, as you all filed into the small police department. 

“You can set up in the conference room over there, I hope we got y’all everything you need.” He said, flashing a warm, welcoming smile. 

“This looks fine, thank you.” JJ said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” She pointed to him, and he nodded in return - of course, rather than shaking hands. “This is Special Agent Emily Prentiss, Agent Rossi, and Agent L/N. Our Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner and Special Agent Morgan will be here later - they wanted to go and interview some of the families of the victims, get some more background information.” 

“L/N?” He motioned toward you, his eyes becoming fixated on you as you set down your bag and lifted one of the lids off the boxes to get a glance at some of the files. “That name sounds awful familiar to me - are you from Madison?” 

“Oh yes, I am,” You grinned at him, stepping forward and giving him a handshake, to which he grinned back widely. “I grew up here. This is actually my first time back in years.” 

“Well, welcome home.” He said. “I wish it was under better circumstances.” 

“Me too.” You easily agreed. 

You thought that would be the end of it, until: 

“You know I hardly recognized you. Such a pretty face, but the last time I saw you, you was beat to a darn pulp.” He remarked, giving a pained chuckle. 

Your stomach swelled with anxiety, and it felt like a pure balloon of concrete sitting inside of you. You felt all the eyes in the room on you - Rossi, JJ, Emily, Spencer - all of them staring you down as this man aired your dirty laundry like it was as casual as the weather report. 

“You came through here - what was it, the summer of ‘99? I’ll never forget that assault report. I’m surprised you can still see out of that right eye of yours, with the way-” 

“Coffee?” You cut him off when you managed to find your voice, rushing to change the subject and praying he would get the hint. “Where can I get a coffee around here? Long flight. And we’ve had an early morning. Long flight, going over the case.” 

You didn’t even realize you were tripping over your own words, repeating yourself in a rush to fill the air so he wouldn’t speak about the past anymore. 

“Oh, it’s right through there. In the break room.” He said, motioning vaguely behind him. 

“Would you mind showing me, please?” 

You knew it was cowardly, but you were now desperate to escape your colleagues, and wanted to drag the Chief away before he spilled anything else from his loose lips. 

He escorted you out of the room and it was only a mere moment before conversation ensued about the strange thing that had just happened. 

“Am I gonna be the first person to say ‘what the hell’?” Rossi asked, looking around to his teammates, who all had equally shocked and confused expressions. 

“It’s a small town. These people don’t exactly understand secrecy. Or tact.” JJ sighed. 

“Yeah, but why would Y/N keep that a secret from us?” Spencer asked, frowning. “If she was assaulted-” 

“Yeah, in the summer of ‘99.” Emily pressed. “That was a long time ago. Have you told everyone on the team every little detail about your life from ten years ago?” 

“Eight years.” Spencer easily corrected her. 

“Whatever.” Emily rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to profile her. We’re here to catch another scumbag and leave.” 

There seemed to be a resounding nod at this.

“If she wants to tell us about what happened, she will.” Rossi added on.  

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Outskirts of Madison - Madison, GA. 9:52AM.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” 

He had a perfect view of you through the scope of his gun. 

Of course, he would never hurt you. There was no bullet in that gun that was intended for you. This was just the perfect way to see you. Up close and personal. Just the way he liked it. 

This was the first time he had seen you in so long. You wore your makeup differently now - your hair was a bit different. But you were still his girl. 

“You’re gonna love the present I left for ya.” 

You spoke his language - violence. 

You wrote your life in blood, just like he did. 

You were perfect. His perfect girl. 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Inside the BAU Jet - Somewhere Above America. 7:12AM.

“So, the ME dates eight of these victims from within the last year alone?” Prentiss questioned, looking over some of the files on the table in front of her. 

“Well, it’s difficult to tell with the soil erosion and the heavy rain that the area had recently, but they are significantly less decomposed than the others.” JJ explained. 

“What I don’t understand,” Morgan noted. “Why would he give up his gig now? I mean, twenty four victims in a mass grave in the middle of the woods, and he leaves a twenty-fifth victim in the middle of the road, clearly intending for police to find it. With a damn note attached, giving up the exact coordinates of his mass dumpsite. Why?”

“It is strange.” Reid agreed. “Typically, whenever killers have contact with the police, it is to taunt them for their inability to get caught, believing that the police are stupid and they as killers are invincible.” He said. Naturally, this rolled into a rant as more facts came to mind about the subject. 

“Serial killer Dennis Rader, also known as the BTK killer, standing for Blind, Torture, Kill - he taunted police with letters over a period of three decades, between 1974 and 1991, each one that he sent to the local police simply saying ‘good luck hunting’.” Reid explained. “Occasionally, he would send them graphic descriptions of how he had posed the bodies at each crime scene. And he was only caught when a floppy disc he sent to a local television station was traced back to a computer that he had used at his church.” 

Reid laughed at this revelation, finding it amusing. With all eyes staring at him, he reached the realization that this wasn’t helpful to the case at hand - and then he easily clammed up. 

“So, this UnSub gives up the dumpsite because… he’s feeling remorseful? He wants to get caught?” Rossi theorized. 

“The level of violence across these recent victims has no indication of remorse.” You replied. “One of the bodies found at the dumpsite was missing over half her teeth, and had all ten of her fingers broken in multiple places. Seemingly pre-mortem.” 

There was a heavy silence at this. 

“Perhaps he’s feeling ignored,” Hotch posed. “He feels like his crimes aren’t being well covered by the media and he wants glory. He finally wants recognition for what he’s done.” 

“Well, wouldn’t he have sent some kind of manifesto or another letter to the police?” Morgan posed. “And it seems like the guy went through a whole lot of trouble for a long time, trying not to get caught. He buried them out in the woods, secluded. Wrapped them in plastic, scrubbed the bodies clean so there’s absolutely no DNA. Doesn’t seem like someone looking for glory to me.”  

“Not to mention that he wrote the coordinates for the dumpsite on the back of a page ripped out of a novel.” Rossi said, squinting down at one of the files - a close up forensic photo that had been sent over by the local police department. 

Prentiss held out her hand, and Rossi handed over the photo, and then she began reading the words off the page aloud. 

“-I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy, but-” 

“-but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way.” You finished the quote before she could, the words flashing through your mind with a sickly twist in your gut. It was all too familiar to you, in the worst way. “It’s Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austin.” 

Everyone fixated on you with a strange gaze, wondering how you knew this off the top of your head. Especially when usually this would only be something that Reid would be able to recite so perfectly by heart. 

“Maybe he thinks that he’s romancing these women?” Prentiss theorized, trying to move on from the strange moment. 

“That’s plausible.” Hotch agreed. “When we land, Morgan and I will go interview some of the families. JJ, get us their contacts. I want to know if any of these women had problems with an ex boyfriend or even a bad date whom they rejected. It could be someone they once viewed as a potential romantic partner that went horribly wrong.” 

JJ nodded at this, going to look through her files for the information. 

“This level of torture - it’s likely a substitute for sexual gratification.” Morgan theorized, looking at the crime scene photos one again. “Maybe he is romancing these women, but in his mind, this is the ultimate form of romance? Having all of his conquests together in death - it’s a declaration of what a casanova he is. In his fractured world.” 

“It still doesn’t explain why he gave up the dumpsite to the police.” Prentiss argued. 

“Men like to brag about their sexual exploits.” Rossi said, nodding toward Morgan. “If these women are his conquests, in his mind, then he wants his manliness, his accomplishments, to be appreciated by other men.” 

Prentiss sharply rolled her eyes at this. 

“Well, at least we know our UnSub’s not a woman.” She remarked sharply. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:15AM.

JJ stood at the front of the room, ready to present the newest case to everyone. 

“Last night, a body was discovered on the backroads of South Carolina, about five miles outside of the town of Delph. She was found naked, mutilated. Heavy bruising all over her body that insinuates the killer kept her and tortured her for days. Final cause of death appears to be blunt force trauma from multiple hits to the head, but she also had several shallow stab wounds across her body, seemingly from some kind of hunting knife with a rough blade.” 

JJ explained, beginning to present the case as she clicked the small remote, causing images of the crime scene to pop up on the large screen in the room. 

“The victim - now identified as Ashley Prembrooke, hadn’t even been reported missing. She left her parents house in Madison, Georgia, about three days ago to drive back to her dorm at the University of South Carolina. When she didn’t show up on time, her roommate assumed that she was staying at home for a few extra days. Her father has cancer, so she wanted to be there for him.” 

There seemed to be a particularly dark aura in the room at this news. 

“Did the killer know that she wouldn’t be reported missing, or did he just snatch her up by chance?” Morgan asked. 

“Her car was found abandoned at a rest stop a few miles from the border of Georgia.” JJ explained. “So… it seems to be random.” 

“Well, I hate to ask this,” Rossi said. “But why are we being called out for just one body?” 

“That’s the thing.” JJ sighed. 

She clicked the clicker again, and several close-up photos appeared. Photos of the victim’s mutilated body - among the harsh bruising on her torso, there was a piece of white paper, partially stained with blood. It had been folded and stapled into her flesh. 

“The victim was found with this page… stapled into her skin.” JJ said, clearly finding the words disturbing to speak aloud. “Written on the back, was a set of coordinates. Local police discovered that these coordinates lead to a random patch of woods, about ten miles outside of Madison, Georgia.” 

JJ queued more pictures onto the screen. It was those very woods - overturned dirt. And more than a dozen bodies, wrapped in plastic among the soil. 

“It was the site of a mass grave with twenty-four other victims - all women around the same age, with the most recent ones all having the same body type, the same hair color, same general makeup as Ashley Prembrooke.” 

“He has a type.” Hotch stated the obvious. 

“And for some reason, he tipped the police off to his hiding place.” JJ reminded them all. 

“Twenty four victims?” Prentiss questioned, clearly shocked by this number. 

“That’s what they’ve found so far. The decomposition on some of the bodies seems to go back as far as a decade, but it’s difficult to date them exactly.” JJ replied. 

“So… the guy is experienced, hasn’t been caught in years, and he hands over his honey pot to the cops? Is he trying to get caught? Is he feeling guilty?” Rossi posed. 

“No, not with that level of violence. There’s no remorse there.” Morgan replied. 

“He dumped Ashley Prembrooke over state lines. We could be looking at somebody with an incredibly wide hunting ground who gave up one of many dumpsites as a way to taunt police.” Hotch theorized. 

“That doesn’t seem to be the case.” JJ explained. “So far, eight of the most recent victims have been matched up with missing persons reports, all of them women from Madison. All within the last year alone. It seems like he targeted Ashley because she was from Madison - that’s his comfort zone.” 

When the pictures of the missing women - now confirmed dead, murdered violently, popped up on screen, your throat tightened. 

You had known at least two of them. You had gone to school with them. You had seen them cheer proudly at high school pep rallies - you had known them lively and bright. And now they were bones rotting in the soil, taken by some monster. 

Beyond that, there was an alarming trend. 

They looked like you. You couldn’t deny that. Same hair color, same body type, same skin tone. 

And they were from your hometown. 

Between this, and the letter, the morning was getting to be too much for you. You wanted to believe it was all a series of terrible coincidences, but… 

Looking across the roundtable at you, Reid was the only one who saw that sickly look come over your face. He was desperate to know what was troubling you. 

“Reid?” Hotch got his attention, finding it strange that the overly talkative man was quiet this morning. “You’ll work the geographical profile?” 

“Yes.” Reid nodded, finally taking his eyes off you. “It’s unusual for the killer to hunt wider than a five hundred mile radius from home. So it’s likely that he lives, works, and operates all within Madison.” 

“Good. We could be looking at a copy-cat who knew about the previous killer’s dumpsite, or… something else entirely. But we need to get on the ground there and find out.” Hotch said. “Wheels up in thirty.” 

Everyone dispersed from the table when Hotch finalized with this, and you found yourself much dizzier than you realized as you tried to stand. As everyone moved to their desks to gather their things, you moved to the counter to get a coffee - hoping to calm your nerves. 

“Y/N.” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Reid’s voice came from behind you - your own blood was pumping in your ears, and seemingly, he had snuck up behind you. But his usually quiet footsteps simply couldn’t be heard beyond the nagging thump of your own anxiety. 

“What?” You barked back, knowing it was far too harsh. 

“Are - are you alright?” He asked, hesitant to bother you with the question. 

“I’m fine.” You lied as you dumped the sugar packets into your cup, your shaking hands accidentally spilling some across the counter top. 

“Are you sure?” Reid pressed. 

You let out a heavy sigh and turned to face him, crossing your arms heavily over your chest. 

“What?” You said the word again, sternly, glaring at him. 

All he did was give you a soft, understanding expression in return. 

You hated it. 

You hated how he was so open - it was almost horrifying, how you could have easily told him what was bothering you. 

Sweet, accepting, understanding Reid. 

If you told him the truth, he probably would have told you some statistic that he found comforting. It would have been sweet, coming from him. But then, he would have been looking at you with those eyes all damn day, holding pity in his heart and not truly focusing on the work that needed to get done. 

“Can you look at the shit we see every single day and always be okay with it?” 

You easily made up an excuse, pretending you were rattled by the crime scene photos, even though this murder was no more graphic in nature than any other you had been subjected to seeing recently. 

“I’m human. So what?” 

Reid studied your face carefully. He saw guilt dancing in your eyes - the way you gently bit your lip was your tell for lying, that much he knew from playing many rounds of poker with you on the plane rides home. 

But he felt that simply nagging you more wouldn’t get the truth out of you. Not right now. 

“Okay.” He acquiesced. “I know it’s hard. If you ever need someone to talk to-” 

You stormed off, accidentally slamming into his shoulder on the way along in your haste to escape the conversion. Reid heavily eyed the cup of coffee that you had left cooling on the counter before he turned and left himself. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:04AM.

You walked into the bullpen with your bag on your arm, sipping a strong coffee in a travel mug you had brought from home. 

“You look tired.” Emily commented as you walked over to your desk. “Late night?” 

You moaned in reply, not yet ready to let go of nursing your coffee mug, taking a few more long gulps as you took the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slung it into your chair. 

“Last night, the fire alarm in my building went off at 3am.” You told her, finally surrendering the mug and putting it down on your desk. “I was out of bed in a panic, barely awake, went into the hallway to evacuate - and the sprinklers had gone off. So I ended up standing outside for more than an hour in my little jammies, soaking wet, and it turns out - some teenager from the third floor pulled the alarm because he was having an argument with his mom. He didn’t want to go to summer school.” 

“Yikes.” Derek commented. “Well, you know, if you ever need a calm, cozy place to sleep, you can always give me a call. And you can bring your little jammies.” He told you with a wink. You rolled your eyes, knowing that flirting was his default. “As long as you don’t mind Clooney licking at your toes in the mornin’.” 

That almost made it sound more appealing. You did love that dog. 

“You know, a study was done at the University of New Hampshire that concluded that twenty to thirty minute windows of sleep actually optimize the human brain for functionality the most.” Spencer added on, leaning back in his chair at his desk as he explained this. 

“The schedule of a ten to twelve hour work day, followed by an eight hour sleep period has only been instituted in society as a commonality since the industrial revolution. And it doesn’t actually flow with how the human brain has been optimized by evolution. Before that, most people optimized their lives around a wake-sleep period of three to four hours, taking care of chores in the morning, participating in a midday nap, and then socializing in the evening and partaking in community events before sleeping again in the evening. And most communities functioned around people sleeping and waking at vastly different times rather than everyone having one collective morning routine.” He concluded, giving you a smile. 

You found his rambling fascinating, but you found it ironic that you could barely process half of what he had said - because you were too tired. 

“Well, unfortunately we can’t all live in villages and pick berries for a living.” Emily remarked with a yawn. 

The conversation shifted when Penelope walked in, and gave you a bright smile. 

“Good morning, pretty girl.” She greeted you. 

“Mornin’, Penny G.” You replied.

“This arrived on the mailcart for you, postmarked from a few days ago, stamped express. I figured you’d want to have eyes on it as soon as possible.” She told you, handing you a very average looking white envelope. 

You weren’t sure why, but it invoked a strange feeling in your gut. 

The moment that you saw the handwriting on your front - the script that made up your name. 

The way he had written it. 

Bile rose up in your throat, and you forced yourself to swallow it back down. All eyes in the room immediately knew that something was wrong. 

“What is it?” Emily asked. 

“Nothing.” You quickly replied. 

You didn’t even want to open it, but bitter curiosity was eating at you. 

How the hell had he found your work address? He knew where you worked now? 

“I’m gonna - bathroom.” You mumbled an excuse as you rushed back out of the room again, practically fleeing toward the bathroom, leaving all eyes on your shadow. 

In particular, Spencer’s eyes followed you hard as you retreated. He wondered how a simple letter could upset you so much. 

You secluded yourself safely in a locked stall, your heart thumping in your chest as you began to tear into the letter. The envelope turned to sinew in your hands with your anxious inability to open it properly. In a few moments, you pulled out the piece of paper with a shaking hand, and dropped the shredded envelope onto the floor. 

You barely managed to read its contents through tearful eyes. 

Lover, 

Fate has sent us on such different paths, but I will be with you again soon. 

I still miss you every single day. I remember your smell. 

I know none of the men you have spent your recent years with can measure up to me, which is why I have set you on the path back to me. 

“I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but like everybody else, it must be in my own way.” 

-Daniel 

Your chest caved in when you realized that there was something taped to the corner of the page. 

You recognized the piece of dark cloth in an instant. 

It was from that night. He had kept it. 

You couldn’t keep the bile down that time. You turned to the toilet and puked up a horrible swirl of black coffee and half a toaster waffle that you had scarfed down while getting dressed for work. 

When you had just barely caught your breath, you heard the door to the bathroom creak open. 

“Y/N?” Emily called out your name. “Are you in here?” 

You didn’t answer. 

Instead, you heaved a large glob of putrid spit into the toilet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice now coming from right outside the stall you were in. 

“I’m fine.” You handed out that lie, not knowing how many times in the next day you were going to be saying it. 

“You don’t sound fine.” Emily told you. “I thought I heard you throwing up.” 

“Bad sushi.” You lied. “Stopped by the corner store on my way home. You know I never cook. Food poisoning is usually 50/50 with that kind of shit. Just another thing to add to my great night, right?” 

You let out a sour, sarcastic chuckle, but Emily didn’t follow suit. 

You knew that you would have to face her sooner or later, so you wiped your mouth again and then turned and unlocked the stall door. 

“I’ll be fine.” You told her, throwing her a very fake smile. 

“Yeah.” She said, tone flat, entirely disbelieving. “Would it have anything to do with that?” 

She motioned to the letter, which you had almost forgotten was crumbled up in your fist. 

“Can I see?�� 

You didn’t even consider how suspicious it would be, but as her hand moved toward the paper, you ripped it up and tossed it into the toilet, grabbing the envelope up off the floor and tossing it into the mess of paper and vomit as well before you flushed it all down. 

“It’s nothing.” You grunted out, another very poor lie coming from your lips as you exited the stall and moved toward the sinks. “It’s garbage.” 

You turned on the tap and leaned down, taking in a mouthful of water to rinse out your mouth while she watched you with careful, piercing eyes. 

“It’s kind of pathetic that you’re trying so hard to bullshit me.” Emily remarked. “Not just because we’re both profilers, but because it’s so painfully obvious that something is wrong.” 

You swirled the water around your mouth, rinsing it out, and then spit into the sink before you turned the tap off. When you rose up to your full height, you caught Emily’s eye in the mirror - pitying. You hated it. 

It was that kind of pity that held you back from telling her the truth. 

She reached over to the dispenser and got you some of the paper towel, handing it to you as she spoke again. 

“You know you can tell me what’s bothering you, right?” She said, reaching up to put a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

There was a small, quiet moment - the words edged on your tongue. 

You truly considered just coming out with it. 

But then- 

A harsh knock on the door cut through the silence. 

“Y/N? Em?” JJ poked her head in through the door, clearly looking for the two of you. When she spotted you, she continued on. “I need everybody at the roundtable in five.” 

“Let’s get going.” You said, wiping your mouth and then crumpling the paper towel to toss it into the garbage can. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention. 

After being given a shoebox full of strange letters by your mother, he had finally pieced it together. He finally realized the secret you had been hiding - the thing that put you right in this killer’s crosshairs. 

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.” 

He motioned to something in his hands - it was a worn-out old shoebox, something that made everyone curious and confused. 

“What the hell is that?” Prentiss asked. 

“Come on.” Reid ushered everyone into the conference room, and once the whole team was gathered, he shut the door. 

He opened the box and spilled it into the middle of the table, revealing a flood of hand-written letters. JJ stood back in shock, Hotch observed carefully and silently as usual, and Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss began to pick through them while Reid explained his revelation. 

“Y/N’s mother gave me these.” He explained. “All of them are addressed to Y/N, and from what I can see, they’re pretty much weekly, and they go back as far as 1999.” 

“When the first murder occurred.” Morgan easily pieced the two things together. 

“Not only that,” Reid added on. “The first murder took place in August of ‘99.” He said, pointing to the picture of the first known victim on the evidence board. “And I think the first letter, or one of the earliest, is from July of ‘99. At least.” 

“So - so she was having correspondence with the killer?” JJ questioned. “What? Was he in prison? Are you saying that Y/N is involved with this in some way?” 

“No-” Reid rushed to correct this assumption, and Morgan cut him off. 

“She was at Quantico when the latest victims were killed. Even if the guy has a partner, I really don’t take her as bein’ responsible for this.” He said. 

“Plus, these don’t exactly read as love letters.” Pretniss pointed out, her expression growing disturbed as she read what the killer had written from the letter in her hands. 

“-every day I dream of you, my love. I remember the way you felt underneath me - clawing for your life, desperate. I remember the way you screamed. Tasting your blood for the first time made me feel alive again. I hope the bruises meant as much to you as they did to me.” 

“The use of ‘I’ language denotes self importance - the author has a natural narcissistic personality disorder, but he pretends that it’s a fulfilling two-way relationship, when naturally it’s a fixation on someone who could never truly live up to his fantasies.” Reid explained. 

The room fell silent as the reality of it hit everyone. You were the target of someone truly dangerous. Someone who was going to kill you when you didn’t perform the fantasy that he had in mind for you. 

“She was being stalked.” Reid declared quietly, sounding defeated. “She still is.” 

“These killings aren’t someone having separate, individual fantasized relationships with each victim; this is about the killer repeating the same relationship over and over again, performing the same ritual killing in order to relive the same fantasy over again, projecting it onto different women of the same type.” Hotch said, coming to the realization as he stared at the different victims photos on the evidence board with a firm look on his face. “He’s been in love with the same woman in his mind for years, but nobody can live up to the real thing. That’s why he gave up the dump site. Because he wanted to lure her here. He wanted the FBI here, because he wanted to get L/N here.” 

“Okay, but the bigger question is: why L/N? What was the incident that got him fixated on her in the first place?” Rossi questioned, asking what was on everyone’s mind. 

JJ’s face was struck with horrible realization, and she ran to the door, ripping it open. She screamed the Chief’s name at the top of her lungs until she got the man’s attention, looking entirely crazed to everyone else in the station. Naturally, she didn’t care. He bustled over, scurrying toward her urgent voice, spilling coffee on himself in the process. 

“Chief.” JJ breathed out. “You said that Y/N came through the station, and she was beaten up the last time you saw her - when was that?” 

“Oh, I dunno?” He creased his brows with concentration, trying to remember. “About ‘98? ‘99?” 

“Did she file a report about the incident?” JJ asked. 

“Yeah.” The Chief replied. “It was a break-in. Poor thing. Summer vacation, her mother wasn’t home, off with the church on a retreat hittin’ the bingo halls up in Texas. She said that she never saw the attacker, though. He was wearin’ a ski-mask.” 

There was a silent exchange among the group that said they knew the truth - you had seen the attacker, you knew him. It’s why you had gone with him willingly this time. But you hadn’t told the police the truth back then because you had been too scared. 

“Can you get me that report?” JJ asked. 

After too many anxious minutes, the Chief came back with an old file in hand, and JJ snatched it out of his hands with a mumbled thank you before she shut the door in his face once again. She placed it down on the table among the mess of letters, and flipped it open. 

“Oh my god.” Emily gasped when she saw the photos inside. 

There was a spread of old polaroid photos, pinned to the sides of the file. They were almost too graphic for the team to look at - one showing the damage to your face; both of your eyes bruised, one of them entirely swollen shut. Scratches, deep gashes, harsh bruising all over your body. You were wearing a dark cotton tee shirt with patches ripped out of it - as if someone had been clawing at you and nearly ripped the clothing off your body to keep you from getting away. 

“This wasn’t a burglary.” Derek mumbled, frowning as he picked up one of the photos and inspected it closer. 

“Get Garcia on the line,” Hotch told JJ. 

She dialed the tech’s number on the conference hub, having to unbury the small bit of technology from some papers before she did it. It rang for a few moments before the woman on the other end picked up. 

“Where’s our girl?” Garcia asked anxiously, talking about you. “Is there any news? You’re calling because there’s good news, right?” 

“Babygirl,” Derek called out, trying to get her to focus, but she trampled right past this and continued to ramble on. 

“Please don’t tell me she’s dead!” Garcia shrieked on the other end. “Cause I can’t keep losing people! And I know it’s selfish to say that I can’t lose her, but she’s one of my best friends, and I’m gonna be a mess! And she promised to be the maid of honor and my wedding, and I know I’m not even engaged, and I don’t even have a boyfriend, but I need to have her around for big milestones in my life like that, she’s like the best person I know, and-” 

“Garcia, we need you.” Hotch told her firmly, cutting off her emotional ranting. 

“Right.” The tech replied, sucking in sharply, trying to catch her breath. There was some scraping in the background - the wheels of her chair on the floor as she scooted her chair into her desk. “What do you need? I’m here.” 

“I need you to look up reports of rape in and around Madison County between 1991 and 1999.” Hotch told her. 

“Rape?” Garcia replied, seemingly shocked by the topic and how it might relate to the case at hand - how it might relate to you. 

“Come on, babygirl.” Derek encouraged her. “Work your magic.” 

“Yeah. I got it.” She said hesitantly, and then there was the clacking of her keyboard as she worked. 

“Oh. Ugh.” 

“What is it?” Rossi was the first to ask. 

“There’s over five hundred cases.” Penelope told them, clearly disgusted by this number. 

“Can you narrow it down to women in their twenties? With similarities to the victims who have been targeted by the killer. Same hair type, same race, same body type.” Hotch told her. 

“Turning on the creep filter.” Garcia said, using her usual sense of humor that she turned on to shield herself. “That leaves us with… about twenty cases.” 

“Were any of them prosecuted?” Hotch asked. 

“Two of them.” Penelope replied. “A couple of sorority sisters from the University of Georgia were held at gunpoint and raped by a pizzaman in ‘95. He went to trial, got ten years. And he was paroled for good behavior in 2003. Yikes.” Emily rolled her eyes in agreement with his comment. “And shortly after his parole, he crashed his car into a tree in a drunk driving incident. Looks like he’s probably not your guy.” 

“What about the other eighteen cases?” Reid asked. 

“Um… no.” Garcia replied. “None of them went to court. A lot of these say that the victims were attacked by a stranger… that he broke in through the back door. Hold on.” 

“What?” Derek prompted her. 

“There is one here. Terry Driver. She said that she was raped, and she identified her rapist as someone she knew - Daniel Matthews. But he was never arrested because his brother gave him an ability for the night of the incident.” Garcia explained. 

“I bet that one was air-tight.” Rossi scoffed. 

“What type of injuries did the victims have?” Hotch asked. 

“Um… nothing major.” Penelope replied. Hotch frowned. “A black eye… a few scratches.” She hesitated. “Ligature marks… from being tied to their beds. God. That sounds like the most horrible night of your life, doesn’t it?” 

Hotch shook his head, sweeping a tense hand over his face. “He doesn’t fit the profile.” 

“Wait.” Reid swallowed thickly, staring at the photos of you that were sitting in the middle of the table. 

Battered. Bruised. Broken. 

“Some of the letters refer to him having an awakening. ‘An awakening in my soul. A bond through blood.’” He explained, naturally reciting the words from memory after having only read them once. 

“She fought back hard.” He held up one of the photos - one of your arm, showing deep, bloody scratches. Defensive wounds. “She found back so hard - he must have liked it. It-” 

“It gave him a taste for violence.” Prentiss finished off the thought, fear written all over her face. “She - she was the one who made him realize that he could use violence to replace sex completely. So he switched from rape to murder.” She came to the shocking realization aloud, her eyes flickering from the photo of you to all the photos scattered across the evidence board - all the victims he had practiced on in the wake of you. 

“Oh - oh my god.” Penelope gasped, having heard all of this over the intercom. “He’s gonna kill her? He’s gonna kill Y/N?” 

“Garcia, What can you get me on Matthews?” Hotch asked. 

“Um, right - Daniel Matthews…” There was more clacking of keys, and then Penelope replied. “He grew up in Madison. Looks like he went to the same high school as Y/N. He used to play football. He has a juvenile record for… vandalism, underage drinking. The usual. Oh…” 

“Oh?” JJ wondered aloud. 

“He had a very brief stint in the FBI Academy. He was kicked out 2001 when he was accused of sexually harassing fellow female applicants, and he was flagged on the psych eval as having a possible narcissistic personality disorder.” Garcia explained. 

“Bingo.” Rossi sighed. “That’s our UnSub.” 

“Oh my god. The hiatus.” Morgan said, his eyes fixated on the evidence board now. “‘99 was the year he attacked Y/N, when he first got a taste for it… and then… he followed her to the Academy?”

“And he resumed the killings when he got kicked out.” Rossi picked up on the thought. “When he couldn’t be in close contact with her anymore… he couldn’t get a high off of retraumatizing her, reliving that night in his mind, he needed to relive it through the other victims.” 

It all fit together now. 

It was a horrible puzzle, but it all fit together around you. 

“Reid, you said you might know where he took her?” Pretniss said, turning back to the very tired looking genius. 

“Yes,” Reid shoved aside the file with the graphic photos of you, and went shuffling through the letters for something. When he found it, he handed it over to Prentiss. “A lot of the earliest dated letters make reference to ‘our special place’. Or-” 

“-the bed I first made love to you in.” Prentiss read it off the page, clearly holding back vomit. 

JJ grabbed up the file with the report about the break-in, shoving aside the photos, looking for an address. “It’s here. I’ve got it.” 

“Okay, I want squad cars, tactical swat, I want spike strips on every road in or out of that place. I need everyone mobile in ten minutes.” Hotch ordered sharply, causing everyone to jump into action. 

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

It should have felt like a victory to hold a knife to the throat of your rapist - someone who had been taunting you for years after the incident. 

But somehow, you still felt small. You still felt so chaotic and out of control. 

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of confronting your life’s biggest monster. 

In the back of your mind, you were aware of the guns pointed at you. You would have liked to believe that because Emily was your friend - she wouldn’t shoot you. 

Part of you thought it would be worth it. To kill this man and take a bullet in the process. 

You just hoped that she would aim to wound and not to kill. 

“Put the knife down!” Emily ordered, her voice sounding muffled in your ears as blood thumped hard through you. “Come on, put it down.” 

“Reid-!” 

You heard his name being called out, and you saw a figure moving from the corner of your eye, but all you could focus on was the blade in your hand. The sight of a thick, unmarked neck, ripe for the taking in front of you. The idea that all you had to do was press down and slice through flesh - and then, this would all be over. 

No more torment. No more letters. No more taunting. 

“Y/N,” 

His soothing voice spoke your name, and you held a sob inside of your chest. 

You had grown so much of a life beyond this. Beyond him. He had tried to ruin you, he had tried to keep you in some little cage in some shitty town, and you had outgrown him. You had friends. You had people who loved you. 

But you still couldn’t escape him. 

“You don’t have to do this.” 

Your hand shook as you held the knife. 

“I have to.” You replied, unable to hold back your sobs. You barely noticed the tears coming out of your eyes - barely able to identify why your vision was blurring, why your face was suddenly wet. 

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.” 

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls. 

If you let Daniel walk away from this, he would come for you again. He would. 

Or he would keep killing other women in your place. And you couldn’t let that happen. 

You couldn’t let your cowardice be the reason that so many women had died. You should have killed him the first time he had ever touched you. You should have been brave enough then. 

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-” 

It just sounded like noises in your ears at that point. 

Spencer just didn’t understand. 

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, urgent to make him truly hear you. “I killed those women. I killed them!” 

“Prentiss!” A voice called her name, but it was so distant in your ears. 

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back. 

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.” 

There was a gutting silence. 

“Please, just give me the knife.” 

You couldn’t give up. 

You had come too far to let Daniel win now. 

“It was my fault. I know what happened. If I had just been a good little girl… if I had just laid there and taken it… it’s all my fault.” You quietly wept, your arms still shaking - muscles ripe with hesitation as you struggled with your grip on the knife. “I have to be the one to make it stop.” 

By violence it was done, and by violence it would be undone. 

You could be brave enough this time. You could be the one to end it. 

“No, no you don’t.” Reid told you. “You don’t have to do it alone. We can make it stop together. Just give me the knife. Please.” 

You had been alone your whole life. What was one more thing? 

Just press down. Something in your mind screamed. Slice his throat. End it. 

“Please, just look at me.” Spencer begged, his voice growing more desperate. “Please.” 

You didn’t look up at him. 

You knew that you couldn’t. 

If you took one look at those soft, pitying eyes, then the tiny bit of bravery you had gathered up would crack away. 

“Y/N, please.” Spencer continued. “I know why you think you have to do this. I know that his face is the one that’s been in all your nightmares since that night. I - I know you were all alone then, on the night that happened. You must have felt so alone.” 

You let out another sob at this. 

You had been so alone. 

“But you’re not alone now. You’re not alone now, okay?” 

Spencer’s gentle voice delivering the words made them feel so true. 

“We’re here with you now. I’m here with you. You don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to fight by yourself anymore. You don’t have to be strong.” 

You heard a crack in his voice for the first time - his own tears. 

It wasn’t pity. 

It was genuine sadness for you, as he thought about what had happened to you. What had happened in this very bedroom all those years ago. 

“Spencer-” You choked out his name, and your body betrayed you. 

You finally collapsed, your hand dropping the knife, and Spencer reached out and grabbed you as you fell, helping to move your shuddering form away from the unconscious, horrible man as the others finally moved in. 

You heard more voices, more shouting - maybe Hotch giving orders. 

But all you felt was Spencer’s arms around you, creating a shield as he rubbed your back and gently hushed you, letting you sob as loudly as you needed to, giving you a kind of comfort that you had never felt on that horrible night. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret of it all more palpable in your lungs. 

Maybe Reid had saved you from yourself, or maybe he had caused you to make the biggest mistake of your life. 

You should have killed Daniel. 

You hated it, but you had to wonder what you would have done if you had ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before they had arrived, sirens screeching, lights flashing. Your mind kept replaying the moments over and over again. The knife had felt so perfect in your hand. You should have sliced his throat. 

Ten more minutes. 

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would be resigned to a cage. 

Daniel had been hauled away in an ambulance. He had been entirely unmoving. In ‘critical condition’. They would likely charge you with manslaughter if he didn’t recover - it wasn’t likely that he would. You had overheard Prentiss remark on the irony that he was an organ donor. Because you had beaten him so badly, but not killed him, it was likely that his comatose state would lead to his organs being donated, and saving more lives. 

It could be viewed as a beautiful thing. 

But you had to wonder if the poison he had in his veins was contagious. Should the heart of a killer really live on inside someone else’s body? 

“Let’s start with this,” Reid asked you sharply. “Why?” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself. 

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.” 

You let out another puff of your cigarette, and he frowned at you. 

“No.” He said. “No more bullshit. No more games.” 

You definitely were not used to this version of Reid. 

You were surprised that it had taken you almost killing someone to bring out his cold side. But you supposed that everyone had a line. And you had crossed his. 

“Why didn’t you tell us you had been raped?” He asked. “Why didn’t you tell us that the rapist lived in your hometown and was a viable suspect in all of this? Why didn’t you tell us that the letter you received the other morning was just one of many your rapist sent you over the years, stalking you, obsessing over you after-?” 

“Why?” You said, your voice scraping against the word harshly as you tossed it back at him, cutting off his ranting. 

He gave you an impatient expression as it hung in the air - eyes wide, pursing his lips. 

It caused you to flare with anger. 

You let the cigarette burn down to a hot cherry between your fingers, the harsh sting against your skin being the only thing keeping you from lunging across the table and strangling him. 

You stubbed it out in the ashtray before you answered him. 

“Why didn’t I want to suddenly announce to a group of my intellectual peers that I was raped?” You echoed back, more tears gathering in the corners of your eyes - you knew that you must have looked quite crazed, especially when Hotch stiffened, and Reid’s expression dropped. “You know, when I first came to the BAU, it was the only time in my life that I wasn’t viewed as a victim.” 

“Y/N-” Spencer said your name in that gentle tone again, but you weren’t having it this time. 

“My dad left us when I was only a year old. And everybody viewed my Mama as this fucking martyr because she raised me by herself. ‘Oh poor girl. She doesn’t have a daddy. Poor little girl, all alone. Her mama does such a good job.’” You said, ranting in a crazed tone. But the floodgates had opened, and you couldn’t stop it. “Nobody wanted to talk about how my Mama was off half the time, drinking at bars, out partying with friends. She got pregnant at sixteen and she didn't want to stop having a life. God forbid I get in the way of that. I took care of my damn self! I raised myself!” 

You knew you were screaming, but you couldn’t stop it. 

“L/N-” Hotch tried speaking to you in a firmer voice. 

But you couldn’t stop. 

“Daniel only broke into the house that night because he knew I would be alone.” Your voice warbled harshly on the word, and you hated it. 

You hated the look that Reid and Hotch were giving you. 

Pity. 

That look you had been trying to avoid for so long. 

“When I came here that night and made the police report, they all knew I was bullshiting. They knew that it wasn’t a fucking burglary.” You pressed on. “But none of them said anything! They didn’t care.” 

There was a tense moment. You swallowed thickly around your own tears, holding back sobs once again. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Spencer tried again, seeming to be personally stuck on this point. “I asked you if something was wrong. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“That look in your eye.” You told him, entirely honest. “That look you have right now. I - I couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at me like that forever.” 

“Daniel approached you in the parking lot of the corner store.” Hotch stated calmly. “Why did you go with him willingly? Did he have a gun on you?” 

“He had a gun.” You told him. “He did have it pointed at me. But - I didn’t have mine. I didn’t like the odds.” 

Hotch nodded at this. 

“I didn’t want him to take another girl.” You added on. “I knew they were replacements. At that point, I realized what it was. I figured nobody else should have to die because of my mistake.” 

“Mistake?” Spencer echoed back quietly. 

“Not killing him the first time.” You said, knowing this was likely a bit too honest. “I should have killed him the first time he ever put his hands on me. I should have. I wanted him dead.” 

Tears leaked hot from your eyes at this, and Spencer’s eyes grew glassy - he blinked back his own. 

“You wanted him dead, but… did you want to kill him?” Hotch posed. 

“I don’t know.”

...

“That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink.”

-Patrick Rothfuss

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, meant to function as an episode of Criminal Minds, so please respect it as such. Please do not ask for a sequel or a continuation, because there will not be one. If you are going to comment about the work, please comment about the body of what has been written. I highly appreciate reblogs and comments if you enjoyed it, and if you want to see more of what I have written for Criminal Minds, definitely check out my Criminal Minds masterlist.

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

you’re screwed up and brilliant and look like a million dollar man

summary: murder gloves.

warnings: S M U T. sex everywhere. it’s violent sometimes. what’s a safe word? lol ransom wouldn’t know. (seriously, reader tells him to stop a few times and he doesn’t, so pls do not read if that is upsetting to you) and they’re annoying, legit can’t talk without fighting. and that daddy kink because y’all know me. a lot of choking. very vanilla bondage. spanking. fluffy feelings about sweaters.

word count: a bit over 8,000

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

a/n: lol and nearly THREE FUCKING MONTHS LATER 🙄🙄🙄🙄 truly, i am sorry. i hope that you picture a raccoon with creepy evil little hands when you think of me bc i am trash. and i have creepy evil little hands. you guys know how excited i got when i thought of this title, right?

It was your anniversary even though it hardly felt like one at all.

Six years today. Somehow, you had put up with all the shit. His horrid behavior at times. The family drama. The extravagant events Harlan planned that your high maintenance boyfriend never let you miss. Whenever you tried it, he either pouted or just fucked you until you wouldn’t dream of ever saying the word ‘no’ to him. At least not for a few days.

Six years.

Yet, you were sure he was still nowhere near proposing. That was a battle for the next anniversary, you had decided. This anniversary required much more pressing topics to be discussed.

You heard Ransom pull up in the driveway and come inside, but you kept your place at the counter. When he found you in the kitchen, you were in a thin robe, making him an Old Fashioned while your coffee brewed.

You glanced at him over your shoulder as he sat at the dining table. His eyes lingered on you for a moment but then he turned down to his phone, so you took your chance to stare. After all these years, you would think that the sight of him in a sweater wouldn’t matter to you, but it still did.

You’d met him in a sweater, several December’s ago at a ski lodge where you had bonded over unfathomable resentment toward your respective families and an inability to ski—something he still wouldn’t admit. I can ski, I just wanted to fuck you. You were practically begging me. Was I supposed to say no? That wasn’t exactly how it happened but when Ransom pouted, that often meant no sex, so you let him lie. Regardless, he was beautiful then and you swore he got more beautiful by the day.

He lifted both hands onto the tabletop in front of him, phone set against his palm, showing off those stupid leather gloves that were starting to make you question your sanity. You thought about those gloves too much and in the most depraved ways.

“Did you get the house?” you asked, a distraction for yourself. No sex, not until he gave you an answer. Hell, he was gone most of the day with Marta, so he damn well better have some success to report.

He narrowed his eyes, lifting his gaze from his phone screen. “Why are you so dressed?”

Normally, he liked you walking around the house in nothing. A bodysuit, maybe. A bra, panties, and thigh-high socks. He liked you as naked as you could get. You liked it as well, it reminded him that even though, most of the time, he was in control, there were times when it was you. You who had final say, you who would withhold sex as some deranged power play. Sure, you needed Ransom like you needed oxygen or money, but he needed you just as much.

The robes were for occasional visitors. He knew that, he was just trying to prolong this conversation. He was trying to bait you, actually. If you were feeling…playful, you would have lied or refused to tell him. Then, long story short, you wouldn’t have been able to walk or sit right for a week. It wasn’t that he even needed such an elaborate reason to start this game, this time he was just trying to distract you.

“Joni stopped by.”

He gave you a flat look. Nothing confused him more than you sincerely getting along with Joni.

“She brought some crystals for us.”

“Rocks,” he corrected. “And they’re damn ugly and they’re not staying in my house.”

“Tiger’s eye for mental clarity,” you explained, voice level. It was your house too, and if he wanted to play this game, well, you had no problem throwing a chair through the window. Again. “Amethyst, for protection and stress—and intuition! It’s great for the third eye chakra—”

“Don’t start all that bullshit with me—”

“You’re just mad that I’m psychic—”

“No, you are not,” he snapped.

“Scared I’m going to find out about whoever else you’re fucking?” Okay, he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. If you truly thought that, you would have been so far out the door the second you had a suspicion. Ransom was good. Even though he liked to pretend he wasn’t.

He glared. “It’s a god damn scam—”

“Your family specializes in those.”

“She’s not family.”

“Meg is,” you pointed out. It was left unstated but blatantly clear that that did, in fact, mean that Joni was family also.

“Joni thinks you have money, she’s trying to play you.”

“They don’t need to play me, Ransom. I like Meg, she’s nice…and she’s finishing her degree. I’ll make sure of that, with or without your help. And I like Joni, you know, she was the first one who was nice to me. Other than Walt, I guess—”

“Yeah, he was nice because he wants to fuck you.”

“You think everyone wants to fuck me.”

“Joni does, too.”

“Oh yeah, your whole family?”

“My grandfather included.”

You rolled your eyes. “Can you not be so…you, right now? Please, he’s fucking dead, Ransom.”

“He was a fucking perverted bastard. He always stared at you, tried to get you alone as much as possible. And don’t even get me started on that time he had you on his lap—”

“It wasn’t like that,” you argued.

He arched an eyebrow.

So, you were sitting on Harlan’s “lap”. It was Christmas, Harlan had dressed up as Santa. Ransom liked to pretend that Meg and Marta weren’t in the picture with you. Okay, maybe it was that you were trying to make him mad. You remembered that to be around the time you discovered that angry sex with Ransom was something else, something you truly weren’t sure how you had lived without.

You walked his drink to him and you watched as he downed the entire glass.

“Make me another. Please.”

You returned to the counter to oblige. You weren’t much of a cook, neither was Ransom, but he had the strongest desire to see you acting domestic for him. Sometimes, that just meant you making him drinks or bringing him a beer. You didn’t mind, so long as he watched you the entire time.

You once again set the glass in front of him. “So, your mother wants to fuck me?”

He eyed you, lifted the glass to his lips, took a small drink, set it down, then he nodded once. Instead of speaking, he went back to texting on his phone.

“Donna?”

“Not family, but yes.”

“Jacob?”

He scoffed. “Yes, he would fuck you. Also, possibly tie you up and dismember you after that—”

“Nana?”

Again, his eyes narrowed at you. He knew you were up to something now. He lifted one of his hands, smirking when he saw how intently your eyes were following it. He pulled at the tie of your robe; it was such slinky material that it slipped off your shoulders just after it was loose enough.

Your bodysuit was lace because Ransom loved you in lace. It was a tiny white scrap with thin straps and cups that your breasts spilled out of when you bent over. You were never one for modesty, but there was always something that made you want to cover up whenever Ransom was looking at you—even though his eyes were always full of lust and appreciation.

He let his hand return to the table and he looked at his phone.

Seriously? That was it? You shoved his phone away, it clattered to the table a few inches over, and you sat down on top of him. Your arms around his neck, your knees pressed to his hips, hovering over his soon-to-be hard cock. “And what about your dad?”

“Excuse me?” he demanded.

“Does he wanna fuck me? Because maybe I should ask him to get me that house and maybe fucking him would be all the motivation he needs, motivation you clearly are not feeling—”

You heard his arm brush across the table and then his glasses were shattering to the floor. Before you could scold him, his hand tangled tightly in your hair and he jerked you down flat to the table. He abruptly stood, leaning over you, his face mere inches away from yours.

You should have been scared; you knew that. He was so strong and he rarely ever stopped to think, he was fast actions and apologies later. But this was Ransom and you couldn’t be scared of Ransom.

“Wanna try that again?” he challenged. “I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

“I would love to sit on his face,” you stated. “And I would love to feel his m—”

He gripped your jaw with his free hand and you utterly melted. You couldn’t explain coherently how much you needed that cold leather against your skin. Despite what you knew he had done with those gloves. Hell, maybe that was why you liked them so much. All of his scheming and malice, the killing. But then he would come home to you and he was so soft and so sweet, until he wasn’t, until he was fucking you, spanking you, choking you.

“You. Little. Brat. I got the fucking house for you—”

“You did?” you blurted out.

You suddenly realized, of course. That was why he hadn’t answered you. He knew you were getting impatient and he knew you would act out. Now, he would get to punish you. You would have been mad but the Thrombey house was the most beautiful house you had ever laid eyes on. The idea of building an actual life with Ransom there, in a house that he loved even though he wouldn’t admit it to his parents, only made you happy.

“I did,” he promised. “And now, you have to earn it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Brats don’t get houses.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” you accused. “I’m not earning anything. Every day I fucking put up with you, I earn that fucking house.”

“You just made a comment about wanting to fuck my dad—”

“No, I said I wanted your dad to eat me out. There’s a difference.”

He pressed his fingers into your jaw harder and yanked a little on your hair. “Say you’re sorry, baby doll.”

“Fuck. You.”

He narrowed his eyes, hand snapping from your face down to the clasp of your bodysuit that lay between your legs. He yanked it open, settling his hips against your knees to hold you open for him.

He never moved his eyes from yours and you, if only to meet his challenge, did the same. “I swear, you better not be wet.”

He was in a fucking sweater, what did he expect? You figured voicing that question would do nothing for you, probably only make him even more conceited. No, silence could damn you if that meant Ransom was knocked down a little.

“Or you’ll have to be my father’s latest mistress because I will fucking throw you out.”

“Well, maybe he’s better than you,” you pointed out.

Instead of a verbal response, his leather-clad fingers smacked your cunt.

Pleasure was right on the tail of pain, so close that you weren’t sure what you were feeling. Yes, it hurt, but wow—it fucking hurt. Half of you wanted to retract from the pain but as it settled, you immediately wanted more. If you weren’t wet before… Your body was vibrating with your undeniable need for him, but still, fuck him. He’d been an ass since he walked in and you didn’t feel like just giving in.

“Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?” you demanded, only because he was smirking at you and staring with knowing eyes. “Get the fuck off of me.”

He snorted at what you both knew was a sad attempt on your part.

You began to struggle against him, attempting to push him back with your knees. “Ransom, let me go.”

He forced you into a sitting position with the hand still in your hair and let go just to grab your wrists. His other hand grabbed quickly at the scarf around his neck.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you warned.

He shoved you back down, forcing your arms above your head.

“Ransom, I swear—”

He cut you off with a rough kiss as he wound his scarf around you in some complex way that he probably wouldn’t even be able to get you out of when this was all over.

You turned your head away, and he moved his mouth to your neck. “If you do not untie me, I am going to leave and never come back!”

He bit you hard enough to leave a mark before pulling back to set himself onto his forearms. “And live where? The street? Or you wanna go crawling back to your fucked-up parents?”

“Tell them I finally came to my senses; they’d take me back.” Long story short, your parents fucking hated Ransom. They thought he would never do anything for you or give you anything.

It didn’t help that you sort of cut back on work once you’d met Ransom. He was possessive, he just didn’t want you flying all over the world if you couldn’t take him with you. And you couldn’t because his family was beyond demanding and Ransom still had to show up now and then at whatever theatric event Harlan could think up. And as a model…taking pictures with men sometimes, or other women, wearing very little? Well, Ransom would never ask you to quit but he was always so insecure afterward. You still had your campaigns, a few projects you did with friends, but you were hardly a model anymore.

But well, your parents were obviously fucking wrong. He got you the house. The first time he had taken you there was to meet his grandfather—which was huge because it was the first time Ransom was letting you get that close to him. He hadn’t anticipated Joni and Meg being there but you hadn’t complained. He had, non-stop. Still, it was something…special. He’d shown you his old room and fucked you. Took you out to the woods and fucked you against every awful statue out there. Then took you to his parents’ room and, of course, fucked you there.

They were meant to show the next week, you’d left before that. Much to his pleasure, his mother left him a screaming voicemail or two or seven once she’d realized what had been done on those silk sheets.

You’d fallen in love with the house and you couldn’t bear the thought of losing it to an outsider. At the will reading, when it was announced that it belonged to Marta, you nearly fainted. Ransom had been so damn calm though, up until he was laughing like the god damn psychopath that you’d always suspected he was.

That was five days ago and things between the two of you had been…unconventional. When he had shown up that night—after ditching you, no less, to do whatever he was doing with Marta—you immediately started fighting. You had to get a fucking Uber! And he refused to apologize because, according to him, you were “having an attitude”. Things were thrown, insults were traded, and it was the longest night of your whole relationship.

It was only two days ago that you admitted to the root of your hostility. The house. He couldn’t lose the house. It wasn’t like you thought you were going to be living in it any time soon, but when he did finally propose, maybe things would work out that way. The following morning, he apologized with a diamond necklace and the promise that he would get the house back from Marta.

“Or you could just apologize,” he pointed out.

See, he never did, and in all your time with him, you decided you never would either. It was a good relationship. The sex was amazing, you guys never lied, never cheated, but there were a few communication barriers that neither one of you wanted to mend. Who really needed the word ‘sorry’?

“Seriously, Ransom, fuck you.”

He sighed, but that did little to hide how thrilled he was that you wanted to fight today. “I try to be nice to you, you know. But you don’t want nice, do you?” He jerked you up higher on the table by your arms and crawled his way over you. His forearms were on either side of your head and his leg was coming up to settle between yours.

The table had been freezing, but with him over you, and his heavy coat caging you in, you were just hot. Too hot. The snow-covered back yard seemed the better option at that moment. Anything to get away from him.

“Ransom,” you sighed. “Enough, stop—”

He pressed his knee against you and you shuddered. It hadn’t been long at all, so why you were so desperate was beyond you. Since Harlan, Ransom truly had a new outlook on life. He was impulsive and selfish before, but after the death of his beloved grandfather, there was nothing that could stand in the way of what he wanted. And what he often wanted was you, not that you were complaining.

“Get yourself off, baby.”

You glared up at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Yes, you heard, but what the fuck?! You didn’t get yourself off. He was controlling enough to need to dictate every single one of your god damn orgasms and if it wasn’t because of his mouth, his fingers, or his cock, it wasn’t happening. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m not sure if I’m going to let you finish at all,” he explained. “I suggest you do it yourself.”

You theorized that if you complied now, then maybe he would forget he was so angry and just fuck you. That had happened a few times before, he did always tend to pout when he remembered, though.

Despite your pride and the burning you felt on the tip of your tongue because you sincerely wanted to yell at him, you rolled your hips. It was tentative almost, which made him scoff. The material of his pants was too soft and with no assistance from him and your awkward angle… You figured he was enjoying making you work for this so much.

After what you said about Richard? There was no way you were going to be able to convince him to help you. You supposed he didn’t need to. Hell, you didn’t even need to finish. He just had to think you did. You turned down to watch, moved your hips faster, started making just a little more noise—

“You’re faking.”

You stopped altogether with a huff. “I am not!”

“You are. You wanna know how I know? Because for the past few years, every orgasm in your life has been because of me. You don’t know how to get off without me.”

“You are such an ass.”

“You don’t just want to ask for some help?” He looked down, one hand lowering slowly. “You know I can be very helpful when I need to be.”

You watched, gasping just when he pulled his hand away. “Ransom.”

“Let me just take the gloves off—”

You whined an incoherent protest. You knew that he knew.

He pretended to be confused, eyebrows pulled together. “You want me to keep them on?”

You frowned at him.

“Why?”

“Fuck off, Ransom.” You didn’t know why! Your only theory was that you were just as messed up as him and that you needed to make an appointment with a mental healthcare professional!

He smiled widely, and you hated how that made your heart skip a little. He always smirked, rarely ever smiled, so when he did, you were screwed. “You want to hear about it again? About how I murdered my grandfather?”

You snorted. “Oh, is that what happened? I thought Marta murdered Harlan—”

“She didn’t.”

“She’s the one who gave him the medicine,” you pointed out. “You didn’t have to do anything except switch a vial.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“Are you going to kill me, too? Oh, correction, are you going to get the help to kill me, too?”

“I might.”

“God, you are disgusting.”

He finally released your wrists to grab your jaw again. “Keep your arms up, I won’t tell you a second time.”

You were already moving them down, stopping right when you heard his threat. With a soft sight, you settled back against the table.

“Good girl.”

You wanted to hit him.

His thumb and forefinger pressed hard against your cheeks until you opened your mouth. He took that as his chance to slide two fingers inside your mouth until you gagged. You closed your mouth anyway, refusing not to meet one of his challenges.

They tasted even worse than you had imagined but you weren’t going to stop. You started to grind against his thigh again. It was better now, like maybe this was going to be enough to get you off.

He set his forehead to your temple, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “You don’t want to hear what happened after we left the party, after I fucked you in the car so good you couldn’t stand?”

Oh, that night. Where to begin with that night. It was Harlan’s birthday party, you’d been to all the ones before that and they’d gone off without…okay, well, there were definitely hitches, but nothing you hadn’t come to expect. Nothing that lasted too long. Yes, this family was all kinds of fucked up, but they never stayed away from one another for too long.

You had assumed Ransom’s argument with Harlan was going to be just another one of those cases. You’d been talking to Walt and Linda, the latter trying to ignore her husband’s attempts at pulling her into an argument he was having with Joni. Walt was talking about the company again; it didn’t bore you or Linda like it did everyone else.

Ransom’s voice carrying out from Harlan’s office startled everyone silent. He stormed out just to grab you and drag you outside, all while his family watched from windows at the front of the house. You told him to stop, which he didn’t. You told him your heels were a hazard, which he ignored.

When he started driving, you were honestly scared. Ransom was hardly a cautious driver generally, so when he was angry? And god, he was angry. You were sure you had never seen someone else get to him the way that Harlan had.

And he was ignoring you. He wouldn’t tell you what they fought about, but he always told you. It was, very simply, too much, and you were not going to put up with it. It was dark, cold, and Ransom had been drinking. You directed him to stop the car, and as firm as you hoped you were being, you were stunned when he listened.

The way he looked at you was so unlike any way he had ever done it before. You were more than just confused and you were a little worried, there was realization in his eyes. You could see that his mind was moving and you had known him long enough to know that that never meant anything good.

He demanded that you get out of the car and you did, even though part of you was worried he was going to leave you there. He followed, coming around to lead you into the of the car. He wrapped one hand around your throat and pinned you against the car door with his body, his chest to your back. His free hand was working his clothing out of the way, then fumbling to open the door.

He wordlessly shoved you against the seat, shoving your dress out of the way. Before you could say a word, he was inside you, his body covering yours. His hold around your throat was tight, and you knew that meant that he didn’t want to talk. That didn’t shut him up, however.

He just kept saying he was going to take care of you, and he didn’t loosen his hand until he asked you if you wanted him to take care of you. You said you did. He asked if he had taken care of you up to that point. You said that he had. He asked you if you trusted him. You said you did.

He left you in the backseat, covered in his cum and reddening marks on your neck, hips, and breasts, wrapped in his coat. He turned the car off and you echoed with just about 100 questions, none of which he directly answered. He said you couldn’t come with him because well, you honestly couldn’t walk.

The following morning, you woke up in bed while Ransom was making breakfast. Well, okay, you hadn’t actually seen him make anything, but since you didn’t find any restaurant containers, you couldn’t throw that accusation at him. He brought you pancakes to eat in bed and you guys had an amazing morning together.

By noon, the family was calling both of you with news of Harlan’s death.

He pressed his free hand over your face, covering your nose, and shoved his fingers deeper down your throat. You were choking and that didn’t frighten you like it should have. Some of the best orgasms you’d gotten from Ransom were when you were choking on his fingers or his cock.

You didn’t stop rocking your hips until you were finishing and you never once looked away from him. He stared into your eyes the entire time because it was undeniable at this point, Ransom had a kink for murder, and this was as close as he was going to get to it with you—some minor breath play.

He pulled away from you completely, stepping back onto the floor. He glanced down with a self-satisfied smirk, admiring the mess you had made on his pant leg. His amusement only grew as he watched you try to catch your breath.

You were still coming down when you felt Ransom leave the space between your legs. Glancing around the room, you found him at the counter. His back to you, you heard him pour some bourbon in a glass. You weren’t much of a bourbon person but whenever you tasted it on Ransom’s tongue, you never minded it too much.

When he returned to you, it was with a knife from the block on the counter. A large knife, you wondered what he would do if you made a comment about him compensating for something. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He smirked. “You scared?”

You snorted. “No.”

Arching an eyebrow, he pressed the blade down just barely against your thigh, dragging it upward toward your soaking center.

You had to bite your lip as he touched you there, just a tease because he didn’t truly want to cut you. The cool surface made goosebumps rise on your legs and your heart began to pound with excitement. You often wondered if you would be this fucked up if you had never found Ransom.

He lifted it to your chest, eyes bright as they followed the knife. He pressed down just slightly harder and led the knife to your shoulder. Your heart dropped the second you realized what he was doing.

“Ransom—”

“Shut up.”

“This is a piece from Megan Fox’s collaboration with Fredrick’s—” You felt the snap of your bodysuit’s strap and your jaw dropped.

He smirked down at you, proceeding to the next side to do the same.

“You fucking psycho!” you reprimanded. You thought dating a man with too much money and a narcissistic concern for his appearance would have given him at least some respect for clothing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me? You’re the one so wet over a god damn knife.”

“You can’t just destroy my clothes!”

“Well,” he shrugged, “just did. The fuck are you going to do about it? And consider your answer carefully, you know, if you want that house so badly.”

“It’s already my house,” you declared. “You got it for me. Stop pretending—”

“Pretending what? That I couldn’t find someone to replace you in a second? I bet Marta would be up for it.”

You shut up immediately, just staring at him. You knew Ransom liked it when your anger was quick. And truly, the last thing you wanted was to give him anything he wanted. You weren’t trying to be jealous in any way, but you’d always wondered how he felt about Marta.

He seemed to like talking to her—albeit, he also liked talking to Meg…just to get a rise. But he also liked getting a rise out of you, clearly. You just wanted to know. And he wouldn’t answer you, any time you asked him how he felt about someone else, he just fucked you.

“Now, don’t pout—”

“Fuck you—”

“Don’t be such a baby—it was a joke.”

“I don’t care,” you proclaimed. “You know, you can fuck her if you want.”

“Oh?”

You nodded, humming. “Please do. Then I’ll follow up with your dad.”

He snorted. “That’s getting weak.”

“You think he wants me to call him daddy?”

He took your neck in his hand. “If you say that again, I’ll fucking…”

“What?” you demanded. “What the fuck are you going to do, Ransom?”

Suddenly, he was kissing you. You’d blinked, then he was over you, hand tearing down your bodysuit as he held you by the throat. He stood to toss the bodysuit out of his way, eyes tracing your body.

He didn’t seem to care that you were completely out of breath by the time he’d pulled away, you didn’t either. This was something you both had in common. In moments like these, nothing mattered. You both did and said whatever you wanted, but by the time he was inside you, it was all forgotten.

“I’m moving out,” you announced.

He snorted. “You’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I’m going back home; I can’t stand another day with you.”

“You ever try to leave me and I will drag you back. Every fucking time, Y/N.”

You scoffed weakly. “Learn to hear the word no. You’ll need to. Now that you’re poor, especially.”

“You think that’s what this is?” He still wasn’t looking at your face, just your naked body as if he’d never seen it before. “You think it’s because I’ve never been told no?”

“What else would it be?”

He snorted. “Try to be less transparent. Is this your way of asking what we are?”

You knew what you were. To an extent. It was just that sometimes, Ransom wasn’t the most traditional, and you were okay with that. But well, it had been 6 years. You were waiting on the future to start, the engagement, the ring, changing your last name, possibly starting a family. But well, Ransom hadn’t even told you he loved you. You knew he did, love wasn’t just words, and he definitely showed you, but it would be nice to hear. Still, that was not what you had been asking… okay, maybe it kind of was what you were asking.

“No, I couldn’t care less. I won’t have to stay with you much longer anyway… I would never date anyone poor.”

“Baby, call me poor one more time and your ass is going to be so sore.”

He was in such an odd mood. You didn’t know exactly what he wanted. It had sounded like he’d wanted to fight, then he started getting…well, sappy for him. Now, he was threatening to spank you for stating fact?

“Look at that,” he taunted, smirking at your silence. “You can be such a good girl when you try.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I should give you incentive to shut your mouth more.”

“Excuse—”

He shushed you as his free hand pressed to your pussy.

You quieted only because you forced your mouth shut. You hadn’t been sure how the leather gloves were going to feel, if you should like them… But well, you did. And maybe you didn’t want him to know that.

But he did, that much you could tell from the arrogant look in his eye. You closed your eyes, letting your head roll back against the table. Whatever, you might as well get an orgasm for all this trouble he’d given you.

He traced small, gentle circles around your clit and you couldn’t even remember what you’d been arguing about. You knew he was watching you; you knew you shouldn’t be giving in so easy. That was why he was a dick; he knew you would let him be because he knew how to fuck you well. Two fingers easily slipped inside you—at least you thought it was two, you couldn’t tell.

You were caught off guard. It had been years since you’d felt something inside you other than Ransom*.

Was it supposed to feel good? What you liked was that these gloves were not supposed to be inside you, yet there they were. Ransom didn’t seem to care that they were close to a thousand dollars. You remembered glaring at him when he showed them to you, sent to him by one of his few friends, a designer (🙄) You had lectured him. They were real leather! You did not believe in killing animals for fashion. It was your one rule. You’d never participated in a campaign or contract if there was an animal harmed in the making.

But now, here you were, rolling your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers as he wore those sickening gloves. It was a strange sensation, maybe not good, but not bad. He started to crook his fingers against that spot that he could now locate in record time, and so it didn’t matter what it felt like anyway.

He leaned over you, grabbing one of your arms to pull you into a sitting position. “Watch, baby girl. Watch your pussy take my fingers.”

You turned down and at an agonizing speed, his fingers disappeared inside you. He crooked them twice before pulling them out almost completely. The gloves were embarrassingly wet and you could feel your cheeks heating because of it.

“Can you take another?” he inquired.

You weren’t capable of forming thoughts. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to want an answer. He pulled his fingers back, pushing three back in.

Your head dropped back and you closed your eyes. “Fuck, Ransom, please—”

“Keep watching, baby—I’m only going to tell you once.”

You hurriedly turned back; struggling to keep your eyes open and your hips still. Watching made you anxious because you knew exactly when you were going to feel what and you were simply not patient enough for your tease of a boyfriend.

“You hear how wet you are? Your pussy is so desperate…I bet it could take all four of my fingers. What do you think?” He took your jaw, turning your gaze up to him. “Hmm?”

You began to eagerly nod. “Yes.”

He pulled his arm back and let his pinky join as he moved it forward—once more, you felt yourself blushing at how easily they all slipped inside. It was a delicious stretch that was already driving you crazy. He rarely ever got to four fingers, by the time he was three in, that usually meant he was ready to fuck you. He always tried though, mindful of his size and how difficult it was to take him sometimes.

You sighed his name and whimpered a plea, you did not know what for, but he did. His free hand wrapped around your neck and he leaned in to kiss you, the fingers inside you still curling skillfully. His lips were soft against yours, a notable contrast to everything else he was doing.

“What is it about these gloves that get you so wet? he pressed. “Huh? Let me tell you, my love, about all the bad things I’ve done in them.” He seemed completely detached as he recounted all those events that you had missed because he’d wanted you to miss them, you wondered if he’d decided to that just so he could bring it up while he was fucking you.

Everything was calm and slow. Then he said Fran’s name and his hold on your neck tightened, and he started fucking you with his fingers, relentless in pressure and pace. His stare was locked on yours and you noticed how he brightened when tears finally filled your eyes. You would start turning a terrible red soon, you knew because he’d choked you enough times in the mirror. He always liked it so much so you never complained.

You had run out of air several long seconds ago and that was why your finish was coming so harshly. You just hoped he couldn’t tell because he would undoubtedly make you wait.

“I liked killing her,” he told you. “I would do it again. She was standing in the way—our way of the future I want to give to you. I’d fucking kill anyone for you, baby, you know that?”

“Yes,” you coughed. You didn’t think he killed Fran for you. Maybe, maybe on some low level, but it was ultimately for him. You didn’t mind that, though.

He smirked. “Say my name.”

He loved it when you were choking but still so desperate for him that you wasted what little oxygen you did have on saying his name, letting him know that he was pleasing you. You obliged and his hand instantly fell away from your neck. You took a deep breath in, coughing as you tried to blink away your tears.

He grabbed your hands and put them over his pants. “You feel how hard you’re making me, baby?”

Your pussy clenched around his fingers in anticipation, you couldn’t wait for him to be inside you. You hurriedly searched for the button on his pants until he shoved your hands away.

“No, not yet.” He grabbed your neck again and then crouched down, immediately burying his lips in your pussy.

A strangled yell came from your parted mouth, pure nonsense. You grabbed his forearm, a pathetic attempt to keep yourself sitting up, not that he would have let you fall if he didn’t want you to.

He tilted his head back to look up at you as his fingers kept working you. “Keep saying my name, baby.”

You did so three times before he finally placed his mouth back on you. You were shaking as he flicked his tongue over your clit repeatedly. Your end had built up to this impossibly high place, you were sure it was because your last orgasm was so unsatisfying.

Regardless, he’d barely been on his knees long at all when you knew you would come soon. And fuck, you needed to come. “Ransom—I—I’m—”

“You’re close?” he spoke against your hot, wet flesh, humming as he started sucking your clit gently. “Hm, baby?”

“Yes!” you sobbed.

And you couldn’t so much as blink before he was standing, pulling you off the table by your hips. You came crashing down hard, collapsing onto the table as you realized what was happening. You had been confused for only a second, but then, this was Ransom—why would you expect anything else?

That fucking piece of shit.

You were leaned over the edge of the table, legs shaking so much that he had to hold you up. Your bound arms were in front of you, unable to offer you any assistance. You wanted to push him away or kick him but you worried about your physical safety if you tried. The only thing that could make this situation worse was falling on your ass in front of Ransom.

The dick probably wouldn’t help you up.

You rested your forehead against the table, that was when you realized you were crying. Your cheeks were hot and lined with trails of tears. “I fucking hate you.”

His hand came down on your exposed ass with no warning at all.

You yelped, attempting to pull away from him.

He held you right where he wanted you with one hand closed around your hip bone.

“You’ve been acting like a brat this whole time, what the fuck did you expect?”

“Absolutely nothing from you!” you hissed. “You can’t fucking do anything right!”

And that rewarded you another slap on the opposite side of your ass.

You grit your teeth until your skin stopped stinging. “If you hit me again, I’m going to kill you!”

But hell, even you knew that was only going to get you another one. “You’re going to apologize.”

“For what?!”

“Everything—your attitude, talking about my father, and hanging out with Joni—”

“Oh, fuck you, Ransom! You’re a fucking psychopath with serious possession issues. I’m not a god damn object—”

His hand cracked across your ass, maybe a little more forceful than he intended but he hadn’t expected you to put up so much fight today.

Your mouth was clamped shut and more tears had gathered in your eyes. You weren’t sure what you were crying about anymore, sheer frustration or because he was hitting you so hard.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“No!” Was he out of his mind? He had never made you apologize like this. He let you suck him off or he just tied you up and you were “sweet” enough that he just forgave you. He had never tried to force you to say those words.

“Do it, now—”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” you decided.

“I will give you one more chance,” he informed. “Then I’m done talking.”

“That sounds like the best idea you’ve had all day.”

He smacked you again. And again, you were finally starting to realize that the leather hurt more than his bare hand. Again, and your legs buckled. He quickly scooped you up, setting you atop the table.

“Ransom,” you pleaded.

Instead of responding verbally, he spanked you again. You only took three more before you blurted out those dreaded words. He paused but you knew he wasn’t going to give you more opportunities to make it right, you would have to do that on your own.

“I’m sorry for my attitude.”

He hummed and you were stupid enough to think he was going to let the rest go. Not a blink of an eye later, he smacked you again.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about your dad!”

Yet again, he struck you without a word.

“Ransom, please, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry—”

“Sorry…what?”

“What?” you breathed back. He didn’t say ‘for what’ because that much he knew; you’d said that much. Then what the fuck did he mean?

He tsked and you knew what was coming.

You flinched before he even touched you. “S-sir? I’m sorry, sir!” He’d tried to start that but it was awkward at best. Sir did nothing for either one of you. You were running out of logic though and seemed the best bet.

He snorted. “No, baby. Not ‘sir’.”

“Daddy!” you realized, nearly crying tears of joy. Of course, after that joke you made about Richard, Ransom just needed to assert his dominance. Then his temper tantrum would be over. “Daddy, I’m sorry—”

“Now I don’t think you’re being sincere; you’re just telling me what I want to hear—”

“No, daddy, I’m so sorry—”

But he hit you again.

And okay, fuck him—you had just been telling him what he wanted to hear. You were done. “Stop!”

“Or what?”

“Ransom, I swear—”

He wrapped his arm around you, grasping your neck so he could yank you up. His forearm was pressed hard between your breasts, his elbow digging into your side where he held you tight against his chest. “You made a mess of my gloves, clean them.”

Before you could argue, he shoved his hand into your mouth. You were refusing to obey, however, which he realized when your mouth was completely still. His solution was to force his fingers down your throat until you were gagging violently.

When you realized he wasn’t going to give, you started sucking. You could feel his sweater against your back. It shouldn’t have been able to calm you down, but fuck…this was Ransom. This sweater-wearing asshole was apparently the man you loved—how fucking stupid could you be?

He began dragging you to the sliding door. Ransom’s house was pretty secluded and the only other people that regularly showed up was the help. Three weeks prior, you had pointed out that there was no point in having a sliding glass door if you didn’t have a dog. That was your subtle hint that that was what you wanted.

He flat out refused and you guys had ended up screaming at each other until he held you against the glass and fucked you silent. He had enjoyed it, but you couldn’t relate.

Once more, he pressed you into the glass, lifting your arms over your head. You tried to recoil the second you felt the cold surface against your breasts but he just pushed you back harder. You began turning your head pointedly, his fingers were still in your mouth but you knew he would take the hint.

Finally, he pulled them free and began brushing your hair away from your face. “What do you need, baby?”

“You are such a fucking asshole, Ransom!”

“And you are disrespectful.”

“Why the hell should I respect you?”

“Keep it up, baby, we already have a long night ahead of us. You really wanna let this go on tomorrow, too?”

You couldn’t, you knew that with total certainty. Your body was worn out, the only thing that was keeping you going was the anger you felt. You dreaded imagining how sore your muscles would be when you woke up the next morning.

“Now,” he sighed, feigning patience, “Try not to make a mess of my gloves again, or I’ll make you clean them again.” He reached between your legs and began rubbing his fingers quickly over your clit.

“Ransom!” you cried, attempting to push your body back against his. You could not keep doing this. “Stop, please!”

“No.”

That was all he said, the last thing, in fact, even though you didn’t stop talking the whole time. The whole nine almost-finishes he gave you, that he would stop in the middle of because you kept “making a mess”.

He had to know when you were truly almost spent because that was when he tore his pants out of his way and without even a teasing remark, thrust into you. It took a mere two thrusts before you fell apart.

The glass was stained with streaks from your skin, sweat, tears, and probably other bodily fluids, and you hated that the housekeeper would know why. God, he was the fucking worst person on the planet.

He never gave you a moment, he just kept fucking you through your orgasm and then after because now he needed to finish. “Tell me you’re not going to leave me,” he ordered.

You were more than just confused, wondering briefly if you’d even heard him correctly. “What?”

He let both hands grasp your hips and he pushed into you harder. “Tell me that you’re never going to leave me.”

You turned your head back, attempting to be coherent through the whining and mewling. “What—the fuck—are you talking about?”

“Even if this shit all goes wrong,” he explained. “Even if I get caught. Right now, tell me that you’re not gonna fucking leave. Say you won’t leave me.”

“Of course, I’m never—going to leave, you fucking idiot.” You turned forward, eyes shutting because you didn’t want to be looking at him when you said this. “I love you.”

His hips stuttered and he froze buried inside you, but you weren’t going to acknowledge what you’d just said. He pulled out just to turn you to him, lifting you so he could properly fuck you against the door.

Your legs hung loose around him but your tied arms could successfully hold around his neck. And just like that, the fight was over. Neither of you would probably ever bring up a single thing said during this disastrous night. He just kissed the side of your face as he told you how good your pussy felt.

[crankynewt]

Life Could Be a Dream - Chapter 2

Live in Living Colour Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/N) slowly begins to remember their life with “Pietro” before WestView as they move through the decades, but sometimes knowledge is a curse rather than a blessing.

Pairing: Pietro (Peter) Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning: WandaVision Episode 6 spoilers! Read at your own risk!

Author’s Note: Here’s the highly requested second part to Be Okay! You don’t have to read it to understand this story, but it does fill in the gap during the 80s episode and give a little more context into the reader’s mind. Also, the reader’s powers and Halloween costume are highly based off of Starlight from the boys even though I did my best to make it gender neutral, but that’s what I kinda envisioned!

(Not My Gif!)

Your hips swayed as you danced around the kitchen, the sound of The Chords’ “Life Could Be a Dream” filled the room from the record player in the corner your beloved vinyl was spinning on. Chopping pineapple for the jell-o in the bundt mold beside you, you hummed along to the familiar tune as your feet shuffled back and forth on the checkered floor.

A whooshing sound and light breeze behind you tore your attention away from the task at hand. Turning around quickly, you were met with the smiling face of your loving boyfriend, relaxing in a chair with his feet propped up against the kitchen table. His dark jeans were complimented by a letterman jacket adorning his shoulders, his shades of grey complimenting your own and those surrounding the both of you.

“My partner and their impeccable taste in music.” He smirked, arms crossed behind his head.

“My boyfriend and his faster-than-a-bullet superspeed.” You retorted, shuffling over to your man and giving him a playful smack on the leg. “Feet off the table! We’ve gotta eat here in a few hours!”

Pietro whooshed once again, this time with one hand in your waist while the other held yours, finally slowing down enough to gently rock you to the music. Life really could be a dream, and you were experiencing it first-hand.

“What is happening? Where did this come from?!” Agent Woo asked, watching the dancing couple sway as a hexagon framed the image and the words ‘Pietro(Y/N)’ shone across the screen.

“I don’t know! When Wanda recast Pietro an extra broadcast started from inside the hex and this is what the channel’s playing.” Darcy explained, taking a sip of her long awaited coffee as the end credits began to roll. “She must have somehow created another storyline for them.”

“But, wait… Didn’t somebody say that (Y/L/N) went missing before the blip?” Monica commented, pointing at your smiling face on the screen.

“Last I heard was that they got beamed up on that spaceship in New York with Spider-Man and Doctor Strange, but nobody’s seen them since.” Jimmy added, crossing his arms with a furrowed brow.

“Well wherever they were, they’re back in action.”

You woke up with a gasp, shooting straight up as a cold sweat adorned your body. Your nightmare had been something that you couldn’t believe your mind had imagined, it was so real, so dark… 

You had been on a strange planet surrounded by shades or orange and red, weirdly dressed people fighting all around you. At the centre of it all was this purple giant, a metallic glove adorning his hand as he fought the group of you away. 

Before you knew what you were doing you were rushing towards him, hand raised as a tingling feeling ran down your arm while golden light formed around your hand. But your attack was to no avail as with a clench of his fist the giant had opened a red hole in front of you and you began free falling.

“What? What is it?” Pietro grumbled, slowly waking up at your sudden outburst. He sat up as well, rubbing his hand on your lower back soothingly. 

“It was just a dream, babe.” You brushed it off, turning to face Pietro and leaning closer towards him. His eyes still held worry and a bit of disbelief as you played it off, but rather than argue, he just held you close as the two of you laid back down until sleep took it’s hold once more. 

“How much longer ‘till he calls?” Darcy whined, spinning in her chair as the boredom of watching reruns overtook her. You and Peter had just finished your ‘80s episode, meaning that the two of you had just reunited with Wanda and Vision.

“Don’t worry, he’ll call.” Monica replied, and as if on cue the name ‘Jimmy Woo’ was flashing upon her phone screen. She was quick to answer and eagerly pressed the device to her ear. “Woo? What’d your guy say?”

“Scott said that (Y/N) hasn’t been seen since they were on a planet called Titan fighting Thanos. Stark apparently told him that they got tossed in some hole he opened and they couldn’t get them back.” Jimmy explained, the sound of a car moving filling the background as he was already on his way back from talking to Lang.

“You don’t think that he sent her to wherever this new Pietro came from, do you?” Monica responded, Darcy shrugging her shoulders in response.

“I mean, it’s well within the realm of possibilities?” 

“What are you boys doing?” You called from the bottom of the stairs to where Pietro and the twins were playing some video game on the tv, laughing and shouting as they shot at each other. “Piet, why aren’t you in your costume?”

Your boyfriend finally turned to face you and your Halloween costume had his jaw quite literally dropping. You adorned a white costume with a golden star and accents on the front, meanwhile your cape was white with countless smaller stars decorating it’s entirety.

“Wow! Babe, you look… Wow!” He ogled, speeding over to you as his eyes took in your costumed appearance. He ignored your question, Wanda having to bug her brother once more for him to drag Tommy with him to make their matching Quicksilver costumes, their hair slicked up on the sides in an odd way.

Before you knew it the five of you were making your way down the street bustling with costumed kids. Pietro and Wanda were a couple steps ahead of you with the twins, you making the decision to take a minute to appreciate your domestic life while the siblings caught up.

“Unleash hell, demon spawn!” Pietro yelled as the twins went running off to fill their buckets with candy. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, however you weren’t very far behind them and neither twin was making any effort to speak quietly.

“Do you remember when we were at the orphanage when mom and dad died?” She asked, the duo stopping to talk to each other in the middle of the busy road. While you didn’t intend to stop yourself, the sudden confusion that struck your mind left you no other choice.

Orphanage? Why would Peter have ever been in an orphanage when both his parents were still alive?  Wait, Peter? Where was all this coming from?

Suddenly your life was quite literally flashing before your eyes. Getting your powers, joining the Avengers, falling through the portal to another reality, meeting the X-Men… Oh, and Peter. Your relationship with Peter came back in moments, from your first meeting to the day he kissed you after you almost died on a mission. And how could you ever have forgotten your wedding day?! 

“Peter?” You asked out loud. Whether you were calling out to the man who you now remember to be your husband or questioning the memories that you had just regained you weren’t sure.

Your sudden comment caused Peter/Pietro to scoff in disbelief and furrow his brows, meanwhile Wanda’s expression darkened as her eyes glared daggers into your head. 

“Did you just call me Peter?” He asked incredulously, but his face quickly softened as he saw the fear in your eyes. You were utterly dumbfounded, How did you get back here? Last thing you remembered was being at the school, then all of a sudden you were living in some sit-com town.

“Why doesn’t he remember me? Wanda, what have you done?” Your voice wavered, your gaze shifting from Peter to Wanda, who would have already murdered you if looks could kill.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Her eyes flashed red, meanwhile Peter was standing there as if everything around him was completely normal.

“I think you do. Don’t make me do this, Wanda.” Your eyes began glowing as well. There was no way this would be ending well.

[gayoticgoddex]

Ok my last post was too wholesome so here are some cool murder tips- for, you know, writing.

Knifes and guns are, first of all, boring and basic, and secondly very easy to identify. A wooden baseball bat, however- blunt force trauma to the head, make it look like they fell, Bob’s your uncle (well- not anymore.) And for cleanup? Burn the bat. It’s w o o d.

The typical adult has 3.5-5.0 mmol/L (millimoles per liter) Potassium in their body. 5.5 is considered unhealthy- and it’s considered a medical emergency if it reaches 6.5. (Keep in mind, this isn’t potassium in a banana). If you use the above method and want to make it look as though they fell and hit their head from a heart attack, you simply need to inject a maximum of 3 mmol/L of Potassium in the farthest-back part under the tongue.

Don’t use leather gloves- use hospital gloves. Chances are that seeing remnants of their own rubber gloves when they analyze the body won’t raise any red flags.

If you move, don’t immediately start murdering again. Then they’ll know it’s you. Leave a final body for them to find after you leave town, wait several months, and then change up your MO. It also helps to change up your appearance- Ted Bundy did this frequently so he was harder to identify.

Don’t want them to find the body in the first place? Pigs can eat everything except for the teeth, and teeth are much easier to hide than entire body. And you’ll have very happy pigs.

If you plan to drown a victim’s body (I don’t recommend), make sure you puncture any organs that contain air or liquid lighter than water.

Be a very social person. If people trust you, they probably don’t think you’re a murderer.

DoNt ReFuSe To CoOpErAtE wiTh PoLiCe. Can you think of literally anything more suspicious?

Don’t burn your fingerprints. That becomes a whole new unique identifier, and it wouldn’t take long for them to find out who in town has them.

If you want to leave notes, use a basic school pencil and sterile gloves. Mask your handwriting (bonus points if it’s super messy bc they’ll be trying to read it.) Don’t write anything actually relevant on it. Red herrings all the way. Oh, and don’t pull a JonBennet Ramsey kill. First of all, don’t kill children. They’re your future army. Second, write the note at home so you’re not sticking around the scene for too long. The less time you spend there, the less likely you are to spread DNA.

Don’t store anything related to the crime in easy places, obviously. If you have those push-up panels in your basement? Hide them in the ceiling. Rafters in your attic? Stuff them into the insulation.

After they’re safely stored, have a sleepover or a dinner party. Having Atleast a partial alibi is better than nothing.

Best getaway vehicle? A bike. Seriously. No license plate, very easy to change the color, much easier to hide than a car, AND you can ride it through lawns/woods. Police cars can’t.

Colored contacts, makeup? Much better than a ski mask. People can usually remember the eyes of a criminal they saw more than anything. To add extra layers to this, have a semi-noticeable abnormality. A little twitch in the corner of your mouth. A strange way to pronounce certain letters. A minor limp. Just don’t go all Ted Bundy and have an entire collection of casts- plus, Teddy’s not a very good role model.

Act scared, obviously. The normal reaction to ‘there’s a serial killer in this town’ isn’t ‘oh gosh darn not again Gerald.’ It’s hyperventilating because you might not be safe in your own home.

Go forth, be gay, write crime.

[cryptidofthekeys]

Wow here he is, the lad, i literally made a killer sona for this shit huh, gjfkdljfdfk- i swear to g o d- i see O N E character, I grow attached to said character very much, they go on the l i s t... And then I start bustin’ out the sonas so anyways i started blasting- fghjdkdfjs but uh this one’s dark sooo...

TWs: Death, Cannibalism, Murder

| Real Name: Chase Dudley Blackwell

| Nicknames: C, Dudz, or Cryptid

| Title: The Arnston Forest Huntsman sometimes called The Rabid Huntsman (considering my name, Chase means hunt/huntsman I figured that’d be a good basis)

| Gender: He/Him

| Age: N/A but it’s clear he’s an adult

| Height: 7’0”

| Species/Race: Human. . .? If he’s human he’s got like an INHUMAN amount of strength (I wanna clarify, he’s not indestructible or invincible by any means)

| Occupation: …Not really an occupation LMAO- but he’s a Murderer essentially, a cannibal for more specifics!

| Eye Color: Baby Blue

| Hair Color: Black (his hair is long and stringy, hangs down in his face mostly unless Markus insists he puts his hair up, which he’ll do either into a ponytail or a man bun)

| Weapon of Choice: His favorite weapon is his large ax, sometimes he’ll use a butcher’s knife or a baseball bat

| Skin Color/Body Type: He’s extremely pale and kinda chubby (big large and w i d e frame man)

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| Appearance: Dudley’s main outfit is a black apron that’s torn up and dirty in many places, and then he has a dark purple shirt (he keeps his sleeves rolled up to his elbows) has a little black bow tie on as well, wears some dark purple leather gloves as well- Has black ripped up jeans on that has chains hanging down, then he has black combat boots that have purple laces in them. He wears a black bull mask over his face as well, he doesn’t wear any sorta jewelry except for black and purple gauges in his ears, he has no tail or pointed ears but he does have black and purple claws and then his teeth are razor sharp, he also has a circle beard- if I don’t say that now I’ll forget it later.

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And he has TONS of scars like ALL over his body, there’s too many to count or name he’s got so many, most of them look like they were from past struggles essentially (aka victims fighting back and some of them got pretty fuckin n a s t y with him), and those scars were caused by all sortsa things, like some were bullets, some were stab wounds, some were burn marks, etc- That’s actually one of the reasons he wears the mask over his face, he made it himself out of a bull skull that he painted black in the end, if I had to say I guess that would be the most prominent scarring would be his face got burned and so he wants to cover that up.

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| I legit do not want to do a personality tbh gfldmkfgkdls I just want a simple description  of what he looks like and some side facts- bc I mean it’s PRETTY OBVIOUS he’s a bad person, he’s a murderer and a cannibal! He’s cruel and sadistic as hell- so Imma move onto the side facts

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| Side Facts: Dudz works with Markus Crowe (that’s what I’m calling the murder mans from iswm) how those two met was fairly simple… Markus was chasing after someone who tried cutting into the Arnston Forest in hopes they’d lose the other, but little did that person know that they would run into yet another… Problem… They had run through the woods only to fall right into a bear trap set out by another infamous killer, who had unfortunately just been rounding the corner right as they got caught. He heard the scream and slowly walked toward the victim who was struggling and crying, like they always do… Screaming even louder when he approached and looked down at them.

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First thing C noticed was that they had already been pretty roughed up, in fact he saw a knife wound on one of their arms which was… Odd… However, Dudley was hungry and this would do for supper tonight, so he quickly grabbed released them from the bear trap and before they could fully get away he grabbed them by the leg and began to drag them, ignoring their screams, cries and pleading for help, they were like everyone else who came into his forest… Ugh, another screamer… Dudz HATED those, as much fun as it was to cause suffering he h a t e d loud noises…

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Unbeknownst to him however, there was someone following him… And well it’s obviously Markus, he was going to be upset for a moment- Figuring someone was going to help them but it seemed this dude was just dragging them through the dirt, literally ignoring their pleas and crying, this intrigued Markus so he decided to follow along… He wasn’t even angry at someone potentially stealing h i s kill, there was far too much curiosity to be angry right now… ANYWAYS- skipping ahead, so Cryptid drags the person back to his run down looking lil cabin in the woods with Markus secretly following behind and then peering in one of the window’s, meanwhile Dudley threw them harshly against the wall which knocked them unconscious.

-----------------------

He sighed in almost relief it seemed at the screaming stopping, Markus watched through the window, watching as the other then grabbed the victim and got to work, I don’t wanna be here ALL day so basically uh Cryptid does what he does and prepares the victim essentially, like cutting them up, ripping things off, etc- Gathering his ingredients and throwing them together all while covered in blood, this made Markus grin in delight, now… Usually he wouldn’t take too kindly to someone stealing his kill, but this… This could be the start of an interesting situation… He heard Dudz huff before setting the plates down, and that’s what made Markus blink, why… Why did he prepare two plates, was there someone else? And then Dudz grabbed his ax and turned toward the window, staring DIRECTLY at Markus and gesturing for him to step inside.

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Markus was surprised by this, cautiously he kept his knife out as he slowly approached, head peeking around and in the doorway, he still had a sly grin on his face meanwhile Dudz expression was more neutral “Well well well… Hello there big guy…~ I gotta say, I’m impressed… Ya mighta stole my kill but ah, no hard feelin’s there… I ain’t here to start no trouble, so relax… Let’s put our weapons away, see?” Markus stepped into the doorway, slowly lowering his knife back to his pocket and to his surprise, the other lowered his ax and tilted his head, seemingly curious before glancing down at the plate, pointing at it then toward Markus… The other nodded “Yeah, I’m sure ya saw their wounds, dat was all me~ But like I said, ain’t no hard feelin’s… I was merely… Observing, after all, I noticed you weren’t helping ‘em out… Instead dragging them back, ignorin’ their desperate pleas and cries for help so I gots a lil bit curious ya know?”

----------------------------

Dudz nodded and gestured for Markus to come on in, to which he casually did, the tension was somewhat dying down but still… Could never be too careful… Dudz sat down at the table as did Markus, and- okay to speed things along more, Markus chatted with Dudz, he was doing the talking entirely in fact (Dudz is selectively mute, he CAN talk but strangers…? …Eugh…) After a bit of listening to the other, bc Dudley was actually genuinely curious, and some of the murders the other talked about got a grin or a deep raspy chuckle from him… But then… C noticed something… Crowe didn’t seem to be eating the food which made Cryptid tilt his head again, the killer shrugged “I uh, as much I appreciate the effort, uh, I’m just a killer… Ain’t uh, ever tried eatin’ any of my victims, ya know…” Dudz shook his head and pointed at the plate, and then his brows furrowed, he seemed to be getting upset but it seemed more directed at himself as he cleared his throat…

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“...Tttt… T…Tr… Trr… Trrryy…” Markus was shocked by this, shocked by the other speaking so suddenly and quickly like that, he seemed very adamant about Markus trying the food and to not risk ruining this before it could begin he nodded “O-Okay… Yeah, alright…” And with that he picked up a piece, he actually seemed nervous for once… But Cryptid was looking at him expectantly and so Markus closed his eyes and tried some, surprisingly enough after a bit of chewing and then finally swallowing it down, Crowe sighed and looked over at C who was looking expectantly, the killer clicked his tongue and smirked “...Not bad… Definitely uh, not as bad as I thought, figured it’d wind up making me sick…” Dudz made a delighted sound, in fact he looked overjoyed as he watched Markus enjoy his cooking “Yoouuu… Rrrreally… Liiike…?” Hm, this had delighted Dudz so much he was actually trying to talk now… Markus nodded “Yes, I really like~”

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After eating Markus stood up and cautiously approached Dudz who didn’t seem as tense as earlier, if anything he was delighted… In fact Cryptid opened his arm and scooped Markus up in a big hug, an almost spine crushing hug which at first worried Markus but he awkwardly hugged back, patting the other’s back gently “U-Uh yeah yeah… Y-You’re uh, welcome buddy… Yo…You a r e kinda crushing my spine though…” Dudz blinked and carefully released the other, apologizing to which Markus held a hand up “It’s fine… Listen, I gots a proposition for ya… Figured since we uh, ain’t tryna kill each other, and hold no ill will or nothin’ like dat against each other… How’s about you an’ me… We form a lil… Alliance, of sorts?”

-----------------

Dudley blinks and tilts his head, not fully understanding what Markus means to which the other sighs “Look, I needs me a new place to crash… My uh, old place ain’t safe no more… And I figure, you an’ me, since we uh, we’re friends now how’s about I crash here? We could be an unstoppable duo! And plus, I can bring in some cash for ya if you uh, need it~ So whaddya say big guy? We gots a deal~?” Markus held out a hand and this made C think for a moment, if he had money he could technically do more… After all, the methods of cooking he had were kinda… Primitive, he’d love to have more ways to cook and maybe even… Bake, and having someone who DIDN’T scream, cry, or beg to be let go, who just said the same old rhetoric over and over again …Genuinely? It would be nice.

------------------------

So Dudz shook Markus’s hand and the that’s how the two got p much stuck together gfkldjfghdk just being in the right place at the right time …Well not for the victim cause goddamn they were in the w o r s t place BUT ahem- That’s how Dudz and Markus began to work together, Markus could get him income and plus he said he was his friend! And that’s all Cryptid needs! And Crowe needed a good place to hunker down and this was p e r f e c t so it benefited them both! This was the start of a beautiful yet deadly partnership… Sometimes Dudz does find Markus insufferable because he drags things out so PAINFULLY long like u g h, it’s painful for H I M- and many other reasons but if it came down to it, C would put his life on the line for Markus for sure, someone trying to hurt him? Dudley will legit slam them INTO the ground.

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That’s p much it on how they met though, that’s all I needed to cover, but anyways- Aside from that- Dudz literally doesn’t know about a n y of the other egos, has no idea any of those exist- No idea about the multiverse, or anything like that-

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And this ISN’T canon but I had a funny thought of just Stan being his dad, being this HUGE murderous bastard’s dad, who Dudley is soft and gentle with- like Stan is oblivious, has n o fucking clue what Blackwell does but he just sees this big dirty and bloodied dude and like yep, that’s my boy! Dudley is a monster, cruel and sadistic but then with Stan, his dad he just smiles sweetly and seems so happy as he waves and talks with like normal, essentially just “Hello dad…!” no stuttering, trying to figure out words, his voice is still deep n raspy sounding BUT he talks perfectly fine with Stan bc I mean, that’s his dad!

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Would always make sure Dudz had water on him, makes sure Dudz drinks enough water, just a normal father and a murderous cannibalistic son (but dad doesn’t know bout that bit, shh don’t tell dad!) Dudz would never tell his dad about any of that, never get him involved like EVER in that sorta business, makes sure he stays oblivious and unknowing of the truth bc if Stan ever found out, it would crush Cryptid to the point where he’d probs never show his face around dad e v e r again, he’d be too shameful and guilty, and he knows if that happened… J-Just, bad… bad things, things he doesn’t nor would e v e r want to do… :)

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BUT ANYWAYS- Sometimes C picks on Markus’s height, he finds it amusing to be so much taller and it’s also funny how a n g y Crowe gets over it, it's all in good fun of course- another reason it’s funny is that Markus is usually as cool as a cucumber, even says so himself that he doesn’t get mad so easily gkfldjfgkdls, but now there’s a polar opposite situation!

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Markus stays as cool as a cucumber, he is sly and doesn’t get upset or angry at situations as easily as C does, C can lose his temper VERY fast, he can get extremely angry in a matter of seconds and then the destruction starts, not AS cunning as Markus or as sly by any means- which ya know Crowe mentioned that bull mask he has on fits him very well because of that hot fiery temper, how angry he can get quickly but Markus tries to keep that at bay. After all, getting blindly angry like that could lead to Dudz getting hurt or w o r s e… And Crowe can’t have that- They are honestly opposites in a few regards but that one mainly.

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Markus is mostly the brains meanwhile Dudley is definitely the brawns, not to say Dudz ISN’T intelligent bc he definitely can be! Dudz has a collection of masks actually, the bull one is just very special to him since 1: it was the FIRST one he crafted and 2: Because of what Crowe said about it, that made it more special- TONS of masks, a lot of them are animal themed but then he just has regular kinds of masks that aren’t based on animals, also has MANY traps, some are regular bear traps and then some are special traps he’s invented himself, he’s invented a few with Markus as well over the time they’ve spent together.

[lindwyrmrelinquished]

So....what are some of your headcanons for Ranbutler?

OHHHHHHHHHH BUDDY, YOU ARE OPENING YOURSELF TO A WHOLE NEW CAN'O'BEANS HERE

OKAY SO FIRST OF ALL-

(everything else under the cut because there is a L O T )

Butler's human form is predominant(which unfortunately means he does not have a tail :(), but he can make Ender noises/speak Galactic. He's got a bunch of stims and tics, and making the Ender noises is one of them! He often makes them to fill the silence, or in times of high emotion(positive or negative. just imagine a Butler bouncing on his toes while excited Ender chirps keep coming out of his mouth, or he's rambling about something and half of it is layered with Galactic). Following from that, Butler has something that Billiam calls the "monochrome form". If he's under high levels of stress, whatever dark tint of color is in his right side will start spiking into the left side, making his skin darker(and, if he has enough color in his skin from NOT FUCKING OVERWORKING HIMSELF, it can get dark enough to blend into shadows) and spreading from the little black scales on his neck and cheeks and hands(which are already claws, that's why he wears gloves), and if he's really stressed/pissed, little horns are gonna start poking out of his skull and he's gonna be completely gray/black, his teeth are already deadly but they're gonna get sharper and if you look him in the eyes he will s c r e a m and very likely tear you apart if Billiam isn't there to hold him back/calm him down.

Speaking of! Butler very much dislikes eye contact. It makes them extremely uncomfortable and the Ender part is gonna start screaming to attack attack attack and the pupil-slit thing is gonna happen. Unfortunately, he's frozen by the eye contact and cannot move of his own free will, it's all going to be instinct to either get away or attack, if he moves at all. And the moment the eye contact is broken, he starts to calm down and all the screaming in his head starts to dissipate, so he doesn't really get the chance to consciously act on the Ender side's instinct.

NEXT OF ALL, throwing canon out the window and saying BILLIAM AND BUTLER ARE FOUND-FAMILY. The way they acted in the episode is just that, an act. In reality, they actually Care each other Very Very Much and have adopted each other into their respective hybrid groups(i.e Endermen have their hauntings, Piglins have their sounders{that part's not canon to mc but i yoinked it from a fic}). Hubert jokes about how Billiam accidentally adopted Bu as his son, but both Bu and Bi deny this. Hubert also got Liaria and James in on the joke and now these two are being constantly triple-teamed.

ON THAT NOTE Liaria and James know about the Egg. It happened at the tail end of Bu's first masquerade when they started accusing Billiam of committing all the murders, and Bu kind of panicked and outed himself as the killer, he pulled out the knife and everything. Billiam admitted that he knew about this, and showed them the Egg as explanation. Now Liaria and James willingly give up their bought lives to the Egg on the regular(we might get into the lives thing later{it was also something i yoinked from a fic, and then I gave it more explanation}) to keep Billiam and his family alive, but they're not all that affected by it due to not even being near it half the time.

AND ON THAT NOTE, let's talk about Butler's relationship with the Egg! Bad. It's bad. Absolutely terrible, the two despise each other immensely. I like to say they're the closest thing to caliginous that a teenaged hybrid that lived off spite and an ancient crimson demon can be. The Egg's hurt Bu a lot, and honestly that's part of the reason his contempt and fear for it is so high. But that's also part of the reason why Billiam was pulled out of its influence despite living right above it. Because he cares for Bu, a literal child that's suffered severe mental and physical trauma at the hands(well, vines) of the Egg. Honestly? Billiam wouldn't be the way he is now if he didn't have to take trips to the Nether. Short explanation, too much time away from their home realm gets hybrids really really sick. So, about a few months or so after Bu arrived, he had to yeet back there for a week and just told Butler and Hubert to take care of the mansion. And you know what Hubert did, that bitch? He took advantage of both Billiam's absence and Butler's skill and pampered himself while throwing the entire load onto the child. And then like halfway through the week, he got the idea to introduce said child to the Egg, who before then has had no idea it ever existed aside from the crimson red aura around the mansion(it's a whole thing about Endermen and magic but again, another thing I might get into later). He hadn't even attended a party before then. So, yeah, Hubert just left him down in one of the old cells for three days. Didn't even check on him, that bitch. And then when Billiam game back, suffice to say he was PISSED. He may be a rich bastard who causes murders biweekly, but even he has standards, and hurting a damn 7-8 year old child that bad was not one of them. he can't be held responsible for child labor, bu followed him home by his own choice. again, another whole backstory thing

Bu's genderfluid! He usually switches between he/him and they/them, and the direction he nods is a little indicator of which one(up for gender, down for no), but sometimes he uses she/her. Adding on that, due to Weird Enderman Genetics, he can manipulate his hair to grow real fast and likes to experiment with it in the mornings for Maximum Gender Euphoria This means that one day his hair could be barely touching his neck, and the next it's all the way down to his waist. It's a fun little anomaly and sometimes Billiam likes to play with it when it gets longer :3 travelling on the lgbt train, Bu is also ace/aro! This doesn't have much impact story-wise(usually), but it's just a fun little tidbit :3 On other, more Ender notes, he has pretty much all the traits an Enderman does, even if he looks fully human aside from being 6 inches taller than Sir Billiam himself. With the eye-contact thing, I've got a headcanon that Endermen can kind of read minds to an extent if they look into another entity's eyes, but it gets loud and borderline painful if anything but another Enderman does the same. Meanwhile, Bu's about the perfect mix of an Enderman and a Human(later called Players and Villagers depending on their capabilities) to be able to take at least a few seconds of eye contact. He can also teleport! To about the same extent as Endermen, if not a little less. Unfortunately, spending too much time in the void between teleportations(i.e a few hours for him, though an hour in the void is a minute in reality. It's why teleporting happens in the blink of an eye to anyone but the user) has some adverse effects. Bu's either glitched, gotten some sort of void-sickness like a flu but worse, and/or lost large chunks of memory each of the separate times he stuck himself in there for too long. Pure-blooded Endermen have a longer tolerance, but even they can succumb to the void with enough time.

Bu's also hurt by water, and the first time Billiam really figured this out is when he dragged him to the roof because it was raining and for some reason, Bi really likes the rain. Bu, on the other hand, was hospitalized for a day once Billiam actually realized, "oh, he's burning" Unfortunately, Bu can still produce tears, so he's got some scars on his cheeks and hands from those, Luckily, though! Billiam got him some gloves and a facemask reminiscent of cc!Ranboo to hide those scars because bu's. really self-conscious about them :,D

But also he's got TOE BEANS,

[ahem] So Endermen are basically giant block-holding teleporting cats and no one can convince me very much otherwise. So on the one hand, they have giant hands shaped for holding blocks. On the other hand, T O E B E A N S

So Bu's got beans on the pads of his fingers and feet(which also end in claws with a black gradient because Peak Character Design <3). Billiam likes to hold his hands on the rare occasion he doesn't wear his gloves because mans likes to stim with those toe beans. Meanwhile Billiam himself has nicely-textured hands because of his Piglin hooves and Bu also likes to stim with them, so just. them holding each others hands for mutual stimmage

[ahem] anyway

Bu stims!! He flaps his hands and does thing really rapidly and harshly when he's really high-strung, which doesn't happen often, at least in front of people. Boy's got anxiety so he's had his fair share of panic attacks :,D he just knows how to disguise them so people don't see, but Billiam knows the signs at this point. But he also has a lot of vocal stims/tics, mainly lots of Enderman noises, some popping and a little screechy thing here and there. Sometimes he picks up a sound and then repeats it a whole bunch because it feels nice on the tongue :] there's also these poofs of particles that happen when he's happy, they look like mini purple fireworks and they're like an expulsion of magic, he can feel when they happen and it feels nice :]

(cw for self-harm in this paragraph and the followed copy-pasted convo)

[ahemhemhem] So y'know how Butler's an Ender-hybrid? His hands and feet reflect that(along with the ears, the eyes, the height, the abilities, but we're talking about about the hands here). Part of why he keeps those gloves on almost 24/7 is to dull his claws, which are not so much an intentional danger to others rather than an unintentional danger to himself. He's got tics and stims and is very neurodivergent and has anxiety(me projecting? noooo /hj), so he gets very nervous very easily. And one of his nervous habits rather than wringing his hands, fidgeting, and (if really bad)a heightened amount of tics, he tends to scratch at his arms. His claws can tear through the fabric easily, and more than one or two suits have been sent back to the tailors for repairs to the sleeves. However, having both padded sleeves and padded gloves nullifies that, so he always wears them special-made. If he didn't have that habit, he likely wouldn't have the gloves on as often as he does.

Friend Hey good headcanons 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 Also ohhhh my god Billiam fussing over him and his gloves until he gets them to be the right amount of padded where Bu can still do things but also not hurt himself

Me gbfhdgbhgsfhbgsfdhdf He keeps examining them every time the tailors try but it doesn't feel right until That Specific Try so he just plops the gloves back on the counter and says "Do it again"

Friend They spend an entire day doing nothing but making gloves while Billiam & Hubert take turns watching Butler to make sure he stays safe

Me Absolutely Problem is Butler can feel eyes on him. And eyes make him nervous :,) so when he gets nervous. he starts to scratch at his arms again and anxiety is too much for him to ask them to stop watching him

Friend It ends up with them just having to hold his hands, looking at random things (they can go sit on the balcony or something so they have something pretty to look at)

Me That hold on actually that's adorable-

Friend Fhhdjdjdjsjsj they're friends your honor

Me Absolutely Even Hubert contributes to keeping him safe. And Hubert's afraid of even being near Butler

Friend And then we get bonding via the oh no Billiam is busy and Hubert has to take care of Bu for the next 3 hours

Me GHDSFGSHFGS THAT IS A GREAT IDEA Butler insists he can do everything himself, nothing's different about the routine, and then he has a mental breakdown when he tries to make food without anyone else in the kitchen- Cause usually Hubert's there, even if he's making something else. There's at least another presence, and that's the sort of thing that's calming for Bu. But Hubert's off setting up the table for lunch/dinner or something and Butler makes One minor slip-up and spirals from there until he's struggling even handling spice mixing The same thing happened with cookies one time, and both times Hubert found him borderline unable to function because he panicked too much and helped him out of it.

Friend Butler is just curled up in the kitchen, trying to have a quiet panic attack because he can't cause the others any more trouble than he already is, and Hubert is very quietly upset about helping him because he was doing so good at avoiding Bu but here he is again being the only thing that's letting this kid breathe

Me Absolutely

Friend Do you think Bu passes out on him? Like Hubert (probably reluctantly) gives Butler a hug cause those help, and Bu was just supposed to stay there until he felt better, but panic attacks are exhausting and he fell asleep at some point-

Me Oh my gods he would though, especially with the amount of sleep he gets He'd have to try so hard to even stay conscious, much less do things in the manner he usually does, and Hubert just quietly tells him that it's okay to sleep; he'll take care of everything. Hu never forgets that of course Bu's always in danger around him - he has fleeting thoughts and quite often knows how to act on them - but he stands up holding an exhausted child and takes him to his room so he can rest. Butler may want him to stay; Endermen usually want someone around when sleeping. It's the security of having someone watch for nightmares, but Hubert doesn't stay. He has to go back to the kitchen and finish that meal Bu was making. But if he's still asleep by the time Hu's done with everything, he might linger outside his door, listening in for anything bad.

(Okay the cw is over now, you may now go back to your regularly scheduled content :,D)

Also, one last thing: Billiam gives Butler a bunch of gold things(including the masquerade mask) because that's what Piglins do with their sounders, they cover them in gold to show they care. And after Bu finding out the reason why Billiam's been handing off a bunch of gold things to him he does not cry, because that would hurt his face, but he does feel quite a lot of things that make him want to because holy shit Billiam feels the same

Butler is Billiam's sounder and Billiam is Butler's haunting, they are family your honor

[fuckinuchihas]

hi! this is an emergency request, sorry to bother.. it's my birthday now, but I feel like I haven't gotten as far as I should by now and I can't help feeling like I've failed. do you think you could do hc's for kuroo, bokuto, oikawa, iwaizumi, mattsun, and/or the miya twins (separate or together) cheering their s/o up for her birthday? also p l e a s e don't do all of these if you don't want to. thank you so much. (also i'm 18+, so whatever you think suits the characters works)

I plan to get to Iwa and Mattsun soon but on the off chance your birthday isn’t over yet I wanted you to have these two to start!

I don’t know the twins well but if I can get something I’m okay with out, you’ll have one or both of them too!

Kuroo:

As hard as it would be to take, Kuroo would understand when you say you don’t want a party. He wants to show you off and let everyone in his life, in both your lives, celebrate the person that means the most to him. You don’t want the attention though, so he nods and promises not to make a big deal out of it.

But he draws the line at leaving you alone for it.

He refuses to give in and eventually you relent and promise to let him spend the day, just the two of you together.

He shows up at your doorstep at 11:58 two minutes before the day officially starts and you’re half asleep ( he woke you mid nap) staring up at him in a shirt that’s just a little too big and he goes soft at the sight of you being so absolutely adorable.

You rub your eyes a little while asking what he’s doing there and he rolls his eyes at you before pushing his way into the small, comfortable apartment you’ve rented for yourself.

“Like I would miss a minute of it,” he says, arms laden with bags that he sits on the counter.

“What is all this?” you ask, wide eyed and slightly more awake now that you’ve noticed the bags.

“Well some of it is your favorite snacks, and some actual groceries so I can cook you breakfast and a romantic dinner later tonight…”

“Tets...this is all, it’s too much.”

He stops, turns to you and puts a hand on your shoulder to make sure you’re facing him directly before lifting your chin up until you can look in those big, bright eyes of his. “I’m grateful, y’know…”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I want to celebrate your birthday because I’m grateful you were born. I’m so happy that you exist in the world and that I can love you. Please...please let me do this,” he says, eyes a little glassy as he searches over your features.

“Oh…” you whisper softly, heart racing as your gaze flicks down to his lips. “Okay I guess.”

He smiles softly at you, using his thumb to brush against your chin before he leans in and presses a warm, quick kiss to your lips. “Thank you, for being born and for being mine.”

Bokuto:

So everyone knows that Bokuto is so full of life and fun and energy and you’d think this big fluffy himbo owl boy would want nothing more than to throw a party for his amazing partner. But while Bo is a bit, okay maybe a lot clueless about some things, he’s noticed how you’ve slowly been crawling into yourself as your birthday approaches.

He’s not sure how to fix it but he does realize that a big party isn’t the way to go. For him, maybe but not you. As much as he would love to show you a good time and have everyone together, he figures for the first time in his life a more subtle approach is necessary.

Okay you got him, he asked Akaashi for advice and Kaashi told him not to be an idiot and draw attention to the fact that you’re not feeling your best.

Still...it was his idea not to throw a party so he should get bonus points too he thinks.

He finds you in an oversized hoodie and pajama pants despite it being mid afternoon when he comes over with your favorite dessert in hand.

He melts.

“You’re so cute, babe.”

“Bo, I’m a mess. What are you even talking about?” you ask, a small chuckle leaving your lips though. He has a way of making you smile even when it’s hardest.

“Here, eat one of these, or five I don’t care,” he says, handing over the pastry box. “Then you’re gonna get ready and we’re going out.

“Ko, I don’t really feel-”

“Just us… I promise,” he says, and you hesitate.

“Fine…”

“That’s my baby,” he says, patting the top of your head.

You scrunch up your nose but ignore the feeling of being patronized because Bo would never and also the promise of sugar is far too appealing.

When you’ve stuffed yourself full on dessert, you change into your favorite seasonal outfit. It’s warm and soft and it fits you like a glove. Bo gives an appreciative whistle despite the fact that he’s seen you in it several times before.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, shaking your head but you chuckle anyway.

“What? You’re hot...I’m not gonna let you forget it, not for a second.”

You feel your face warm up a little but you duck your head to hide it away.

He pulls you by the hand toward the door and then out to where his truck is waiting.

When you get to the passenger side he opens the door for you like a proper gentleman and then you start to climb up but instead he lifts you up like it’s nothing and eases you down onto the seat despite your slight flailing.

“BO!” you squawk.

“What?,” he says, adding a huff of your name with a wide grin. “I was just trying to be romantic!”

You see a bit of mischief spark in his eyes and you huff out a disgruntled noise.

“No you were just being mean,” you say, shaking your head but you can’t stay mad at him.

He’s too cute, honestly it’s kind of unfair.

Ignoring your fake pout he jogs around to the driver’s seat and hops into the cab beside you, pulling until your pressed up against his side where you belong.

You start to look at him a bit strangely when the road goes from blacktop to gravel and then again when it changes to just sand and a little mud from the rain yesterday.

He pulls into a grassy field and you look around skeptically. “Are you...hiding a murder cabin out here somewhere or something?”

“What? No!” Bo says, shaking his head. “We’re having a picnic.”

You start to open the door but he flies across the cab and pulls the door shut.

“Uhh.. just give me a minute first okay?” he says, and you quirk an eyebrow at him but agree easily enough.

He moves back to his side of the cab just as quickly but you feel the warmth of him leave and you have to pull back a whine. There’s a chill outside and now that the engine has been cut it’s not nearly as comfortable. Thankfully though, you don’t have to wait long before Bo comes back with a wide grin, offering you his hand to help yourself down.

You chuckle but follow along with his guidance.

When you get around to the side of the cab you realize both why he lifted you into the cab because there’s no way you would have missed this.

The bed of the truck is covered in soft fluffy blankets and pillows and there’s a gorgeous wicker basket in the middle and you go a little weak in the knees but Bo just puffs his chest out and grins. “So you like it, eh?”

“No, shut up-” you lie, but he knows the truth so you don’t bother to correct yourself.

The food is amazing, he picked up your regular meal at the place you guys went to on your first date and he takes pleasure in watching you eat as he digs into his own plate.

When the food is gone he stretches out, props himself up on the stack of pillows against the back of the cab and motions for you to join him.

When you cuddle into his side he starts.

“I really like your smile, especially that sleepy soft one you get in the mornings before you’ve forced yourself out of bed…” he grins, and you blink up at him.

“And the way you laugh when something is really funny, not just a little funny but like hilarious. Like that one time with the peanut m&m’s, I still can’t look at a bag without laughing…”

You chuckle too because it’s a fond memory just between the two of you. Still..this feels strange so you poke him in the side gently and ask, “Kou, what’s this about?”

“Oh it’s nothing-”

“Bo…”

“Ugh fine, I was trying to give you one thing I love about you for every year you’ve been alive. I found the idea on the internet but it seemed really nice and stuff.”

You melt a little further into the blanket pile with Bo. “It’s very nice, thank you. But this is all I need.”

“Well I could still say em’ though.. Right? I made a list and everything,” he says, pulling the paper out of his pocket to show you. “Those were the only ones I remembered without looking though.”

You chuckle. “It’s okay...thank you by the way, for all of this. It was exactly what I needed,” you add and he looks so fucking proud of himself that it’s almost hard to look at.

You lay there together for a while as he continues to read each and every item off the list and you smile up at him with a look of true awe in your expression before you pull his neck a bit until his lips press against yours and it feels like you’ve come home again.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Can you please do a cute post were Kai has a smolcute s/o like the least threatening person ever who get super jealous and possessiveof kai because he who to close a deal with a yakuza boss who is a girl and is obviously flirting to kai and kais s/o is just be a grumpy cute lil bean and hanging if his arm trying to pull him away and is just to small maybe even threaten to bite somebody if they call her cute and everyone is jus like uwu 🥺 and she like grrrr 😖 fight me this is something I do irl

Now I have many gifs of my husband thanks to @stardustshinning (thank you again for letting me have those!) no one is going to stop me now

"It is a great pleasure to meet you mister Overhaul sir. I must say you're far more handsome than what I heard, surely." The woman purred while Chisaki merely lifted one of his eyebrows in disgust.

That bitch.

She was one of the many who came in the Shie Hassaikai to make some bargain or to negotiate with Kai; but or Chrono Or Nemoto would have to hold you by any second now before you came into that woman's neck.

There was going to happen a murder if she didn't stop right now.

"You're not much of smooth talker are you? Overhaul?" She dared to say his name cutely while she arched a little her back to face him.

"Why would I even want to make any other type of talking with you of all people? We are here for business, not for fooling around."

"Hm~?" She hummed, daring to get closer to your boyfriend "So after this maybe you would be interested on a private talk? Without our subordinates close, only us with glorious time for ourselfs?" She smirked at him suggestively while he scoffed in disgust.

That's it. You don't even care anymore if he is going to kill you for that or not.

You aproached close to Chisaki's side and wrapped both of your arms around one of his, noticing the way his muscles tensed at the sudden contact but surprisingly relaxed.

"Tsk. Get lost pipsqueak, this is important talk. Now shoo." The woman said narrowing her blue eyes at you and waving her hand at your front like you were some kind of animal.

The moment you noticed golden eyes darking and covered jaw tightening in absolutely rage was just so pleased to see.

"You must have a lot of courage to speak in such a disrespectful way with my partner in my front." He growled suddenly making the woman yelp at the news "Impressive." He said darkly and sarcastically, glaring her down.

"I-I'm sorry mister Overhaul. I had no idea that you-"

"You must be a human deprived of any intelligence to not notice at first. Point to me anyone who ever get a inch closer, touched me and survived." You smirked devilish at seing the way the woman was now quivering in fear.

"B-But you have to agree with me sir!" She giggled nervously, trying to get the calm atmosphere back "L-Look at them! H-Honestly, is surprising how such a gorgeous and intelligent man like yourself decided to have a midget as a-"

"Is surprising the fact that I didn't either kill you on the spot or just kicked you out of this place. That is surprising." He spatted before looking at Hari, pointing at the door with his palm.

"Chrono, take this thing out of here and show the exit to her and her own subordinates. The deal is broken."

"Yes Overhaul."

Everyone left the room without a word, you not missing the death glare you received from the woman, which you merely responded with a smirk and wave of your hand.

You let go of Chisaki arm and breath out.

"Sorry about that... it was ridiculous of me."

"It was." You flinched at that before you felt a gentle gloved hand slide careful fingers through your hair "Jealous of some filth of the street. Ridiculous surely." He turned you around to be facing him instead.

"Both of us are connected. So it doesn't matter if some of those appear, I will always choose my angel without a doubt." He said monoustly but as much people say, the eyes are a open door for the human soul, and in those golden eyes of his carried nothing but care and... love.

Huh. A devil in love.

"Yeah... I forgot. Is just difficult you know? You're just so... argh! I can't even describe it!" You said giggling nervously while pointing to him.

You smiled warmly at noticing the hints of a smile grow on his masked face.

"You say that like you never looked at yourself dearest. But back to the point, you did cling on my arm pretty tight." He mused out loud.

"I already said sorry!" You felt your face darkned in red while you covered it with both of your hands before you felt gentle UNCOVERED lips touch your forehead and murmur on it.

"It wasn't displeasing. I quite enjoy it if I'm being honest."

You could faint right there and you wouldn't even give a damn about it.

[purplesurveys]

1184

survey by xflirtykaosx

Alphabetti Spaghetti (2/3)

F o r e v e r - y o u r s - F

Do you fancy any celebrities? If so, who? KIM TAEHYUUUUUUNGGGGGGGGG

Do you watch any FBI shows? Which ones? No.

Have you ever been to a festival? Which one? I don’t think so.

Do you have a fireplace in your house? Hell no. Just the idea of having a fireplace considering where I live and the general climate we have all year makes me nauseous haha.

Do you have a hot flask? I’m not so sure what you mean but if you’re referring to tumblers like Hydro Flask that keep drinks hot/cold for a really long time then yeah, I have one.

What decade were you four in? 2000s.

Do you like the TV show Friends? I love it. I haven’t watched an episode in a while, but it’s always a go-to for me whenever I feel really really really down.

Do you like the feeling of cat fur? Sure, it’s pleasant. Same with dog fur.

Go girl, go; G

Do you have a back garden? Not really a garden but we do have a sort of backyard; basically some space behind the house. 

Do you have a gentle touch? Idk...depends on what I’m holding or touching, I guess? Like I would obviously hold an infant as gently and gingerly as possible, but I wouldn’t pay as much attention if I’m holding something ordinary like my phone.

Do you like girly programmes like Gossip Girl? LOL at girly. Who says Gossip Girl and literally any other show out there has to be for a certain audience?

Do you ever use gloves? Only when I order from Frankie’s since they provide gloves with their meals.

Do you prefer gold or silver? Silver.

Are you a greedy person? What makes you greedy? A little bit, when it comes to food hahaha. I don’t like sharing and I get angry if someone eats a portion I already called dibs on.

Have you ever seen a gypsy? No.

Hold on honey, I'm here. - H

Do you have any bad habits? What? I pick at my nails - either set - when I get tense. I also tend to get a liiiiitle bit reckless with my money, if I do choose to spend. I’m pretty self-disciplined for the most part, but I let that go as soon as I give myself the green light lol. Exhibit A would be me spending a total of nearly P7,000 just this week alone on BTS merch...

Do you know anyone called Helen? I don’t think so. My dad has a cousin named Helena, though.

Have you ever watched a documentary about Hitler? Not directly related to him, but I remember watching Night Will Fall in high school.

Do you put hm in a lot of your survey answers? Not a lot. Occasionally, though.

When was the last time you went to hospital? What was it for? May last year. Blood and urine tests.

Do you like HP (Harry Potter)? Who's your favourite character? I didn’t grow up with it, but it’s not as if I’m a passionate anti. It’s just not my cup of tea, even after trying to read the books.

Do you spell it honey or hunny? I never spell it as hunny unless I’m saying it sarcastically or playfully with friends.

Are you afraid of this Swine Flu Hype? That’s gone now, right? We’re dealing with something else entirely.

In the end we all die broken. - I

Have you ever been to Ibiza? Nopes.

Do you take ice in your soda/fizzy drinks? I don’t really have a preference as I don’t regularly consume fizzy drinks anyway, as long as it’s not lukewarm.

Who do you think is a complete idiot? Anyone supporting the government at this point is a good runner-up.

Do you often wonder what if? Sometimes. But I also find it a waste of time, so I don’t dwell on them.

Have you ever seen an Igloo? I haven’t.

Do you get ill often? No, almost never.

Do you ever imagine you were not human? What did you imagine you were? No, this has never come to mind.

Do you like sexual innuendos? If it’s not too trashy, sure.

What is your IQ? Idk, I’ve never had it checked.

Do people often call you irrational? I’ve never been called this before, at least not to my face.

Do you think the name Isis is pretty? ...Welp, not anymore.

Do you get itchy eyeballs? That never happens. Is that even possible?

Do you know what ix stands for in roman numerals? 9.

Just breathe baby, breathe. - J

Have you ever been in jail? I have a very vague memory of visiting a prison with my parents before, but I no longer remember why I was there.

Do you like JD (Jack Daniels)? Nahhhhhh. Had a tiny sip of it once, found it absolutely nasty.

Do you get jealous easily? Not anymore.

Do you tell a lot of jokes? Yeah. I like making people laugh, so I drop jokes whenever I can whether I’m in a formal or informal setting.

Do you finish school/college in June? When I was in college, my school year ended every May. Before that, the academic calendar ended every March.  

Kiss me, kill me, thrill me. - K

Do you know a girl called Karla? Yeah, one of the managers at work is a Karla but I don’t work with her. I also went to grade/high school with a girl named Karla; she was my friend for a while as well, but we grew apart over the years.

Did you watch Kenan and Kel? Nope.

Do you prefer kisses or hugs? Depends on the person, I guess. But in the context of being in a relationship, I do love being kissed.

Do you like Korn? I don’t listen to them.

Do you like watching films with Kung Fu in them? Not in particular.

Lessons learnt the hard way are the best I've ever had. - L

Do you like Lady Gaga? She’s okay. I’m not super crazy about her but I tend to like all the stuff she puts out.

When was the last time you had lemonade? Wow, it’s definitely been a while. Maybe a year or so ago? I don’t get to have it a lot; usually only when it’s offered at hotels or resorts when I go on vacation.

Do you ever lie to save your own skin? Sometimes, but I never let the lie be too big just in case it bites me back in the ass one day.

Do you think llamas are cute? Sure.

Do you use Lol a lot? Yes.

Do you think you are lucky or unlucky? Neither.

Melody in my heartstrings. - M

Do you like Mac and Cheese? Loooooove mac and cheese, especially truffle mac and cheese.

Do you ever eat at McDonald’s? What's your usual? Not very often tbh, but I do like McDonald’s. I don’t eat it frequently enough to have a usual order; I get whatever I feel like having at a given moment. And since we’re here, I’m gonna be plugging the BTS Meal, in stores 5/26! HAHAHA

Do you like Medieval games like 7elda? You mean The Legend of Zelda? I do love that franchise, but I don’t like the medieval genre as a whole; I just happened to grow up with the Zelda series and Nintendo as a whole, so I’ve taken a liking to it. 

What's on your mind right now? That it’s Monday again tomorrow. I feel like I’m starting to get burnout :/ I’ve definitely noticed I haven’t been being 100% at work lately...but it could also be because the weather is crappy hot again, which makes it a lot harder to work and keep focused.

Is money in your opinion, the root of all evil? It’s part of it.

Do you like Mr and Mrs the show? I’m not familiar with it.

Do you read murder mystery books? Which ones? No.

Do you find Mystical stuff fascinating? Not really.

Nobody loves me, what a change. - N

Do you know the name of your local shopkeeper? We don’t have those here.

Have you ever been called nerdy? I’m sure I’ve been.

Are you you truly a nice person? I hope that’s what people see and think.

Do you overuse nouns in your sentences? I like using adjectives, for one; but I don’t exactly know how you can overuse nouns hahaha.

Do you know anyone personally who is a nurse? Yes, I have several relatives who are in nursing.

Only you - it always has been. - O

Do you obey authority or deliberately disobey it? Obey for the most part.

Is there anything in your room that is an Octagon? What is it? I don’t think so.

What odor can you smell in the room you're in now? The neutral scent my aircon is blowing out.

Do you get offended easily? I think sensitive would be a more fitting word.

Have you ever been to Ohio? No.

Do you ever say Oi? Sure, but not frequently.

Do you spell it OK or okay? I use both; I don’t have a preference. What I avoid is ‘K,’ though.

Are you older than the number day you were born on? Yes.

Have you ever watched the film the Omen? I haven’t.

Name one thing you always have taken for granted? The basic things, I guess, like breathing.

Have you ever had an operation? On what? Never.

Do you like things in a set order or doesn't it matter? As much as possible I do want things to be organized, yeah. I get restless if I see a very messy spreadsheet or Powerpoint, for instance.

Do you have a habit of overreacting? I was a lot more...theatrical in my reactions before haha. Not so much these days; I’ve toned down a lot.

Do you think Owls are nice? Sure.

Do you know what an Oxymoron is? Yup.

Have you ever tried Oyster? Yessssssss I love them and now you’re making me crave them :(

[bakugou-tm]

The Purge - Karma Akabane x Reader Oneshot

Soooo I know you guys missing me writing Bakugou, and this should be my last Karma update until I get back on track with my Bakugou shizz but this idea popped in my head and I just had to write it :’)

P.S I spent a l o t of time writing this and I’m actually really really reALLY proud of it, I might even want to make it a mini series so please give me feedback on if you like it!! I know Karma is only in it for a lil bit but I had to build up the background first, and I promise it won’t be as angsty in the next chapters if I do continue

---

Purge AU: With the massive success of the Purge started in America, many countries started to follow suit including Japan. Unfortunately for your family who just moved from America to escape the very system, you had no idea what was about to go down and what vendetta people had on your family

Rating: Mature for slight horror themes, violence, and murder (not extremely graphic cause I’m a baby)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything about the night happened so fast. Too fast.

You hoped, prayed, wished it was all just a horrible nightmare you were going to wake up from. But when you heard those familiar atrocious alarms sound you knew, this was no dream at all.

“Thanks for dinner dad, the food was great!” You said warmly, placing a warm kiss on his cheek before you took all the dishes from your family and walked to the kitchen.

Your father simply laughed, offering a smile to you before letting out a satisfied sigh, “Well now that I’m not running that crazy company anymore, I figured I would help your mom out while she’s at work.”

“Please honey you act like I work in a factory, I just own a little tea shop,” Your mother said beginning to clean the table as your older brother walked towards the living room to watch the television, “Thanks to your hard work I can do what I love in a safe environment.”

Smiling warmly at their sweet talk you decided to start the dishes, after all your favorite game show was coming on soon and you’re sure your brother already took your favorite seat.

You and your family had just moved to this quiet yet beautiful city in Japan about six months ago. Prior you lived in America, New York City to be exact. Your father was the owner and corporate manager to the (Company Name Cause I’m Too Lazy To Make One Up).

Both you and your sibling lived a comfortable life; you had great friends in the city, you never had to worry about money, and your family made sure not to get power hungry and made sure to stay true to your roots unlike other billion dollar families.

But ever since the US Government created a new law, things changed forever. This law dedicated one night of the year for any crime to become legal, every emergency service would be shut down and it would be a free for all everywhere.

That first night people went insane. Stores were robbed, dangerous parties took place, countless of lives were murdered out of vengeance or just pure blood lust.

It was either kill or be killed, and that night your family almost got killed. Being a fairly wealthy family, you all seemed to have targets on your backs. The night was one you would never forget, but luckily you wouldn’t have to fear it anymore.

Soon the week after the horrific day, your father shut down his entire company. He took what money he had gained from it and fled the country with his family to a smaller city close to Tokyo.

Though it was tough to make new friends, you knew nothing would be the same with your old friends back in America so you had to give it a new shot. Soon everyone in your family adjusted to the change, and for once you all felt safe.

But that safety didn’t last too long, nothing ever lasted long in your life.

Just as you finished putting in the last of the dishes you swiped your head with a sigh, drying off your hands with the dish towel. You made sure to put all the soap back where it belonged and rinsed out the sink, that is until you heard the shrill sound of an alarm go off in your living room.

In that moment, the breath was knocked out of you. Everything around you seemed to freeze until it was so silent you could hear the air around you buzzing. That sound.. that was the...

“(B/n)? W..What’s that sound? You better not be watching a horror movie again.” Your mother called out, but you could sense the offness in her voice.

Something wasn’t right.

All but silence was heard from the living room, the same ringing sounds filling your ears. You tried so hard to suck in any sort of air, but it was as if your throat closed off.

This is not a test. This is your Emergency Broadcast System.

Every hair on your body stood at this, your fingers having a vice hold on the dish towel in your hands. This.. no... this couldn’t be happening.

“Damnit (B/n) answer your mother, what’s going on?” Your father shouted, heavy footsteps being heard walking towards the living room.

Announcing the Commencement of the first annual Purge sanctioned by the Japanese Government. Japan’s government official have decided to follow America’s footsteps in creating balance in the country. Please listen to the following rules.

A loud gasp escaped your lips as you darted through the kitchen and crossed the house to reach your living room. Sure enough on the screen showed the blue screen you knew all too well, the words rolling down sending chills through your spine.

Your brother sat on the couch speechless, your mother covering her mouth as she quivered in your father’s arms.

“D..Dad...” You whispered, looking up to him with skin as pale as a ghost as you clenched your hands together, “T..Tell me t..this isn’t real, tell me dad please!”

Commencing at the Siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be illegal for 12 continuous hours.

“(D/n), (D..D/n) what are we going to do?!” Your mother screamed, bursting into tears as you held her tightly. Your body remained frozen, unable to move.

Why was this happening to you? Why was this happening again? Were you not tortured enough the first time? Did you not see death close enough?

Sinking your nails into the couch you began to whimper, shivering in fear as your mind went through a constant stage of denial. it wasn’t until the trademark sirens began to ring. Every head in your family flicking to the screen with horror.

“Kids, get upstairs now. (M/n) lock every window while I put down the emergency gates.”

Swallowing thickly you looked to your parents before your brother grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you upstairs. You didn’t know your father had installed the same protection system as your previous house, was he expecting this?

“(B/n) w..what are we going to do?” You whispered shakily, covering every window as the metal shield around them began to close in.

In all honesty, your brother didn’t look much better. Though he tried his best to talk confidently, the paleness of his own face showed it all.

“Relax (F/n), if we could survive it in New York with no protection, we’ll be good..”

Though his words weren’t totally off, the tone he spoke them in did nothing to calm your nerves. But if he was able to put on a strong facade for you, you would do the same.

The two of you quickly ran down the hallway towards the guest bathroom since it was the only room in the house with no windows. As you began to walk in you noticed your brother keep walking.

“(B/n) where are you going?” You asked with wide eyes, he glanced back to you with a concerned look before gritting his teeth.

“Just getting some safety supplies, get in the bathroom now!”

Chills ran through your body at this. Everybody seemed to be prepared for this entire situation except for you. Were you the only one who hadn’t learned from the first time? Were you seriously too naive to believe you would be safe the rest of your life.

Biting at your lower lip you squeezed your eyes shut and backed up into the bathroom, moving to close the door until you heard a loud crash from downstairs.

Freezing your actions, you held still in order to listen better. The sound of your mother’s scream filling your ears sent chills down your spine.

Slowly creeping out from the bathroom you looked down the hallway to see your brother staring back at you, the same fearful expression on his face.

More shouts and screams were heard below, and if it weren’t for those noises the sounds of your fearful gasps would’ve been heard. Your brother quickly ran to you, placing his hand over your mouth before handing you a sharp object. Looking down you recognized it to be a dagger, your fingers wrapping around the grip like a glove.

“We need to get down there and help mom and dad, somebody is in the house,” Your brother whispered, moving in front of you as he looked back, “If someone gets near you, you stab as hard as you can got it?”

Inhaling shakily you shook your head in understanding, following his slow movements down the hallway till you reached the stairs. Slowly creeping down you tried your best to remain silent as you heard the voices from around the corner. Ducking your head down your eyes widened slightly at the sight of a black pistol in your brothers hands. Where was he getting all of these weapons?

“You honestly thought moving across the world would save you from us Mr. (L/n)?” A voice hissed, your fist clenching at this as you and your brother stepped down on the first floor, slowly walking towards the kitchen.

“H..Howard, this is all a misunderstanding,” Your father spoke, though his tone was far from confident, “I didn’t mean to abandon all my employees, but you have to understand that my family comes first!”

The sound of a fist pounding on most likely the counter shook all the walls in your house, the noise making you flinch and almost scream if your brother hadn’t slapped his hand on your mouth.

“What do you know about family you bastard? For six months mine has had to live in a shelter because we lost everything! My daughter is struggling to stay alive everyday because of your selfishness!”

“Howard we almost died that night!” Your father yelled, “My entire family was almost slaughtered for our fortune, what was I supposed to do? Stay?!”

Silence was heard after this before you heard a low sigh.

“My intention was not to hurt any of my loyal staff, and I’m incredibly sorry about your family. If you had just tried to contact me you know I would’ve helped in every way.”

So whoever this was, they used to work for your father. Their story was understandable, but to murder your father? What were they thinking?

A low chuckle echoed through the first floor, every hair on your body standing up as you and your brother creeped closer, just behind the entrance to the kitchen. From what you could notice there was only one man standing in your kitchen with a large gun, but you’re sure he didn’t come alone.

“Oh it’s too late for sorry Mr. Howard. For months I’ve had to dance with death while you live it up in your ritzy townhome, now it’s time you feel first hand what I’ve felt.”

This was one of those scenarios that you’ve had a nightmare about a few times, but you just knew it would never happen to you. There was no way right? Sure it could happen to other people but you? You were such an average person how on earth could you experience it?

So when the sight of a bullet flying through your fathers head came to view, every ideal you had of the world vanished from your head. You were utterly speechless.

The man who nurtured you for eighteen years, created you into the woman you were today, was gone. You felt as if your soul was ripped from your body and all that was left was your corpse just standing still, empty.

All you could register were sounds and movements around you. The sound of your mother screaming your fathers name came first.

Your eyes flicked to her as she ran toward her collapsed husband, but soon that came to an end as another shot rang through the house. Soon you noticed your mother’s body collapse beside your fathers, not even making it to him before her blood began to run across the wooden floors of your kitchen.

This seemed to snap your senses back to reality. Your senses coming back tenfold, everything around you becoming heightened. You felt anger, no... rage fill through your entire body.

How could someone be so selfish, so evil as to murder two innocent people for harmless revenge. If he was going to steal everything from you, you would steal everything from him.

The moment you took your first step your brother knew what was about to happen. He attempted to stop you by placing his arm against your chest but you shoved him to the side, making a mad dash into the kitchen.

With the man’s back turned to you, it made him too late to even bother turning around before you sunk your dagger into his neck. The man froze as soon as it made contact with his body, the gun dropping from his hands as you dragged it down his spine till his legs gave out beneath him.

You hadn’t even registered what you had done as warm tears streamed down your cheeks, hands shaking aggressively as you yanked the dagger from his body.

“Y..You...” You whispered clenching your fists so tight you could feel the blood from your nails sinking into your skin, “You go to hell!”

The sound of your scream filled the entire house, the entire street, the entire world. But you didn’t care. You wanted everyone to hear your pain, to feel your pain. Hoping they would take some of it from your body so you could feel a little better, a little more alive.

Your loud sobs echoed through the kitchen, your nervous system going wild as your brother dragged you out of the room and towards the front door.

“(L/n), (L/n) listen to me!” Your brother screamed, shaking your shoulders before his hand slapped hard against your cheek making your eyes move to his own, “This situation is fucked up I know, but we need to get to safety you hear me?! We’re going to run to my friends house just down the street I already texted him. They’re housing a few families and we’ll be safe there but we need to go now before too many people come out okay?!”

Even through your loud sobs and rapid hiccups you shook your head, you had so much to think about but for now you set your body to survival mode. You weren’t about to die to the hands of this villains, not now.

“There’s going to be people out there so use that dagger and stay behind me, got it?”

You nodded up to your brother, shaking your limbs to wake them back up as he swung the door open. Sure enough three men were outside, one right outside the door and two in your drive way.

Your brother was quick to aim at the two on your driveway, meanwhile you moved at lighting speed to send your dagger into the man’s stomach beside you not yielding until he fell to the floor in a bloodied mess.

Once you made sure he was done, you looked back up to see the two men on the drive way on the ground. 

“His house is just to the right of the stop sign at the end of this street okay, run like your life depends on it!” 

Nodding to your brother the two of you sprinted out to your lawn and down the street, ignoring any person, any sound, everything. Every inch of your body was tingling, you couldn’t even feel your legs as they took step after step down the well lit street.

Even when you saw the familiar stop sign you kicked out any feeling of hope, you knew damn well by now that luck was not on your side.

Remaining close to your brother you noticed him slow down to make sure he was going the right way before looking back to you, “Just this way (F/n) only six houses down then-”

Another bang, one you wished you wouldn’t have to hear so soon again. Your head whipped forward to thankfully not see a bullet in your brother’s head, rather in his left calf. 

Another scream left your mouth as you noticed six masked figures come out from the side of the corner. You could only assume your brother was running on adreniline as he shot rapidly at the group of people.

You wished you could help more but with only a dagger against people armed with guns you would be useless.

Two of the six people dropped to the ground until you heard the dreadful clicking sound from your brother’s weapon. The two of you looked to each other, a shared fear in your eyes until you saw a different glint fill your brother’s shaking orbs.

Letting out a battle cry your brother ran towards the group, using the back of his pistol to cram it into the skull of one of the figures. Luckily they fell to the ground quick enough for your brother to grab their weapon, but not quick enough for the other three to have him on the ground pinned.

Your eyes watched his own squeeze shut in pain, your body shaking intensly until you noticed your brother look you directly in the eyes. What scared you the most is they flipped from fear, to acceptance. They narrowed just in the slightest as he dared to smile up at you as he flung his hand out, the small pistol sliding just to the tip of your converse.

You glanced down to the weapon before looking back up to your brother. You knew exactly what he was doing, you knew exactly what he was going to tell you without even saying a word just by the expression on his face. In those next few seconds, everything went silent except for your brothers voice. Not the gun shots, not the yelling, not the sound of struggling, just his voice

“Go get to safety (F/n) and live your life to the fullest,” Your brother said calmly, tears running down his cheeks before he narrowed his eyes with a warm smile, “I’ll say hi to mom and dad for you.”

Everything that kept you standing left your body, your knees giving out on you as you crumpled to the ground. You didn’t even feel the pain of your knees scraping the sharp concrete, all you saw was your brothers stupid smile as he walked toward death itself.

You looked down to the gun, your shaky hands slowly reaching for it before you looked to your brother one last time. Tears rolled down your face as he nodded once to you and smiled for one last time.

“Go.”

Gritting your teeth you snatched the gun from the ground and made a mad run down the street. You ignored going to his friends house, you ignored anything you had ever known. The only thing you knew how to do right now is run.

You made it about two thirds down the street before you heard a loud bang ring from behind you. Whipping your head back you felt warm tears re-enter your eyes once more as you screamed your brothers name into the night sky. Your world was slowly crumping apart and you weren’t even sure if you minded. You almost wished you could crumple away with it.

But you couldn’t. You had people counting on you. You had people dying for you so you could make it this far. You weren’t about to let them die in vain because you were weak.

You were going to survive tonight.

Gritting your teeth you turn away and ran down the street once more, leaving behind everything you’ve ever known towards your new future.

After about five minutes of running you had wondered why you hadn’t run across anybody. Not that you minded, but with probably thirty minutes in to this cursed night, something seemed definitely off.

You ignored the strange feeling until you saw a large cement wall come into your sights. Narrowing your eyes you kept running forward until your mind froze, body slowing down into a jog.

You had run the wrong way, this was the end of your neighborhood which was gated, you swore you were running towards the entrance. Stepping back from the wall you shook your head in denial, this couldn’t be happening.

You spun around when the sound of footsteps were heard, the same three masked people walking towards you. That’s why you didn’t see anyone coming, they were taking their sweet time because they knew you were running to a dead end.

“Well well well, the last (L/n) alive.” One of the people said, registering it as a man which was confirmed when he lifted the mask from his head.

Biting your lip you backed up into the wall, keeping a vice grip on your gun as they cornered you in.

“You know I could get a lot of money for you kid, there’s a lot of angry people that want revenge for what your daddy did to them..” The man hissed down to you, his words only boiling the blood inside you.

“My father did nothing wrong! He was only trying to protect my family, you know he didn’t do this to hurt any of you!”

The sound of a gun cocking back silenced you, feeling your body shrink back against the wall as he narrowed his eyes in a dark stare on you.

“And that’s exactly why I’m going to be the one to kill you, because you believe the same thing as your bastard of a father. I’m not letting anyone have the satisfaction to take away the one thing he loved most.”

Gritting your teeth you fired at two of the figures beside him, one of them getting struck in the arm while the other moved out of the way quickly. You continued to shoot with everything you had left, effectively getting down one of the figures until he gun clicked signaling it was out of ammo.

Before the unmasked man could move forward you dashed low attempting to swipe at his stomach until his hand wrapped around your wrist, swinging it back around your body until your knees collided with the ground and your arm was behind you unable to move.

It was then you realized that this was it. These were your last breathing moments on your planet. For eighteen years you lived a live people would dream of. You had good friends, good connections, and a good family. But in your last thirty minutes of your life you had to watch your family be murdered. It wasn’t the end you wanted, and it wasn’t the end you expected for an average girl. But you would be damned if you let these bastards see the satisfaction of you crying in your final moments on Earth.

You felt the cool metal of the dagger push against your neck, the feeling of the blood from your past enemies drip down your skin, “Any last words child?”

Gritting your teeth you slowly turned around enough to narrow your eyes to the man and flash a toothy grin. You noticed more masked people had shown up, about ten but you didn’t care, you were going out with a bang.

“Fuck you.”

What should’ve been heard in the next five seconds was the sound of metal slicing across your throat. The sound of your scream filling the air as you crumple to the ground and be removed from this cruel world.

But those noises didn’t fill your ears at all.

The sound of a gunshot going off is what you heard first, suddenly heavy weight falling on top of you as you crumpled to the ground. Grunting loudly you shimmied from underneath the weight, noticing the unmasked man unconscious above you, blood staining the back of his shirt.

Looking up with wide eyes you noticed five new individuals before you, each of them attacking the masked people before you.

One of them had black loose hair, looking male to you. Along side him was another boy with from what you could see navy hair. They were having no problem shooting at the masked victims while a large boy with buzzcut hair was knocking them out with his bare fists.

Your eyes shifted over to a small boy.. or maybe girl? Their hair was light blue and rather long, but they were also dressed in boy style clothes. You didn’t want to assume but at this point you didn’t care, whoever they were they were kicking ass. They moved with a purpose, taking out every masked person with swiftness.

The last person though stood out to you the most. You were sure if it was his bright red hair or his shining golden eyes that held nothing but trouble. You were so busy observing all of them that you hadn’t even noticed the red headed boy walking towards you.

“Hello Mrs. (L/n), if you wouldn’t mind it would be safe for you to come with me.”

His tone was as smooth as velvet, but something about him felt off. Not untrustworthy you would say, but not exactly a safe aura.

You crawled backwards slowly, gritting your teeth as you swallowed dryly while looking the boy up and down.

“Karma-san it’s best we start heading out now, you know these guys had friends and it would be best if we took them on with everybody here.”

Your eyes flicked to the boy with light blue hair, your eyebrow raising at his words before the large boy on the other side spoke up.

“Nagisa’s right quit beating around the bush and giving her a choice! Just pick her up and let’s go!”

Your eyes widened at this, quickly narrowing towards the man who said it which didn’t go unnoticed by the red haired boy before you.

“Shut your mouth you giant dunce!” The boy, who you assumed was named Karma, shouted back towards the large boy before turning back to you.

For a second you swore you saw his eyes soften, just in the slightest as he lowered down on his toes as he held out his open palm.

“Look I know you’ve had a shitty night but we can get you to safety so.. do you trust me?”

Your eyes widened at this. How did this guy know what happened? How come it seemed like he knew who you were? How did you even know him?

At this point you had no reason to trust him, but you also didn’t have a reason to not follow him. You’ve escaped death more times than you could count tonight, and you still had eleven hours left of this living hell. You were one to believe in fate, so maybe.. just possibly, this boy was here for a reason. And for some reason in your heart, you felt you should trust him.

Slowly you reached out your palm and grasped onto his palm, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you bit the inside of your cheek, “No, I don’t trust you.”

Karma seemed taken aback by this, but he soon began to chuckle as his lips curled into a smirk. 

“Good, cause you shouldn’t.”

[lovemesomesurveys]

survey by xflirtykaosx

Alphabetti Spaghetti (2/3) F o r e v e r - y o u r s - F Do you fancy any celebrities? If so, who? Alexander Skarsgard. 

Do you watch any FBI shows? Which ones? Nope.

Have you ever been to a festival? Which one? Yeah, a couple local ones.

Do you have a fireplace in your house? Yes.

Do you have a hot flask? I do not.

What decade were you four in? The 90s.

Do you like the TV show Friends? I never got into it like everyone else seemed to.

Do you like the feeling of cat fur? If petting a cat, sure. Not when it’s all over my clothes.

Go girl, go; G Do you have a back garden? No.

Do you have a gentle touch? Uhh I don’t know.

Do you like girly programmes like Gossip Girl? Not that one in particular, but I like other shows some might consider “girly.”

Do you ever use gloves? If I need to for some reason.

Do you prefer gold or silver? I like both.

Are you a greedy person? What makes you greedy? I’m sure I can be in some ways.

Have you ever seen a gypsy? No.

Hold on honey, I'm here. - H Do you have any bad habits? What? I have a lot of bad habits. One is face picking, which I’ve been doing more lately due to stress and anxiety. :/

Do you know anyone called Helen? No.

Have you ever watched a documentary about Hitler? Probably for school.

Do you put hm in a lot of your survey answers? I thought you said “him” and was referring to Hitler and I was like uh, no?? Anyway, yeah I do say that a lot.

When was the last time you went to hospital? What was it for? For myself, it was back in September 2012 for surgery.

Do you like HP (Harry Potter)? Who's your favourite character? Yeah. I wasn’t a hardcore fan, but I did enjoy the movies. 

Do you spell it honey or hunny? “Honey.”

Are you afraid of this Swine Flu Hype? I was. That was a big thing at the time. We had no idea COVID would be coming, though...

In the end we all die broken. - I Have you ever been to Ibiza? I took a pill in Ibiza actually to show Avicii I was cool. Ha, if you know, you know. Anyway, no, I have not.

Do you take ice in your soda/fizzy drinks? I don’t care for ice to be honest, but if I get a drink from a restaurant or fast food place I’ll just say light ice. I never use ice otherwise.

Who do you think is a complete idiot? Me.

Do you often wonder what if? Only all the time.

Have you ever seen an Igloo? I haven’t.

Do you get ill often? Yes.

Do you ever imagine you were not human? What did you imagine you were? No, not seriously. Only when surveys ask what animal you’d be or something.

Do you like sexual innuendos? Not really my thing.

What is your IQ? Above average. Those things don’t really mean much, though.

Do people often call you irrational? Not that I’m aware of.

Do you think the name Isis is pretty? Sure.

Do you get itchy eyeballs? Yeah. Gotta love seasonal allergies. 

Do you know what ix stands for in roman numerals? 9.

Just breathe baby, breathe. - J Have you ever been in jail? No.

Do you like JD (Jack Daniels)? Nope. Or any alcohol. 

Do you get jealous easily? I haven’t felt jealous in a very long time.

Do you tell a lot of jokes? No. I very, very rarely tell jokes. I don’t even recall the last time.

Do you finish school/college in June? I graduated college back in May of 2015.

Kiss me, kill me, thrill me. - K Do you know a girl called Karla? I did in middle school.

Did you watch Kenan and Kel? I haven’t in a long time, but yeah I did.

Do you prefer kisses or hugs? I mean, it depends. Although, right now I’m not feeling up for either. I just feel gross.

Do you like Korn? I liked a couple songs.

Do you like watching films with Kung Fu in them? No.

Lessons learnt the hard way are the best I've ever had. - L Do you like Lady Gaga? I like a few of her songs.

When was the last time you had lemonade? I’m not sure, but I know it’s been quite a long time.

Do you ever lie to save your own skin? It’s happened.

Do you think llamas are cute? Sure.

Do you use Lol a lot? No.

Do you think you are lucky or unlucky? Well, I don’t believe in luck.

Melody in my heartstrings. - M Do you like Mac and Cheese? Yeah.

Do you ever eat at McDonald’s? What's your usual? Not often, but if I do I’ll either get their breakfast burritos and hash browns or a Big Mac and fries.

Do you like Medieval games like 7elda? Nah.

What's on your mind right now? What I want to try and eat for lunch. 

Is money in your opinion, the root of all evil? It’s part of it.

Do you like Mr and Mrs the show? I don’t know what that is.

Do you read murder mystery books? Which ones? Yes. That’s all I’ve been reading for the past couple years. I’ve read a ton.

Do you find Mystical stuff fascinating? That’s never really been my thing.

Nobody loves me, what a change. - N Do you know the name of your local shopkeeper? We don’t have those here.

Have you ever been called nerdy? Yeah.

Are you you truly a nice person? I think so, but it hasn’t shown the past few years because I just feel like I’ve been hardened and more shutoff due to reasons. 

Do you overuse nouns in your sentences? I’ve never thought about it.

Do you know anyone personally who is a nurse? No.

Only you - it always has been. - O Do you obey authority or deliberately disobey it? I think I’m pretty law-abiding. 

Is there anything in your room that is an Octagon? What is it? *shrug* I’m not spending time looking for something.

What odor can you smell in the room you're in now? Nothing at the moment.

Do you get offended easily? I think sensitive would be a more fitting word. <<< Same. I’ve always been sensitive, but damn it’s been bad.

Have you ever been to Ohio? No.

Do you ever say Oi? Not regularly, but yeah I’ve said that.

Do you spell it OK or okay? “Okay.”

Are you older than the number day you were born on? Yes.

Have you ever watched the film the Omen? Nope.

Name one thing you always have taken for granted? It’s just crazy looking back when I thought things were bad and it was nothing compared the last 6 years. It doesn’t seem nearly as bad now and I’m like damn, I’d take that over this.

Have you ever had an operation? On what? I’ve had several.

Do you like things in a set order or doesn't it matter? I need some order.

Do you have a habit of overreacting? Ohhh, yes.

Do you think Owls are nice? I don’t know.

Do you know what an Oxymoron is? I do. 

Have you ever tried Oyster? No, and I have no interest in trying it.

[mischiefandmystics]

LFRP: Sun’ra Zhawn

B A S I C S .

FULL NAME: Śūn'ra Yatā PRONUNCIATION: SHoon-ra Ya-ta ALIAS: Sun’ra Zhawn NICKNAME(S): Blu, Sun, various epithets from various people AGE: 25 BIRTHDAY: 16th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon ETHNIC GROUP: Miqo’te/Keeper of the Moon NATIONALITY: Meracydian LANGUAGE(S): Common, Huntspeak, some sign language  SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Open to interpretation  ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Open to interpretation  RELATIONSHIP STATUS: In a relationship with Maril Hawker, but still a ho HOME TOWN/AREA: An island off the coast of the main Meracydian continent CURRENT HOME:  N/A, wanders and has several hideouts throughout Eorzea PROFESSION: Bandit, Street Pharmacist, Chef, Back Alley Surgeon

P H Y S I C A L .

HAIR: Cotton candy blue and pink, thick, coarse, and with the slightest of waves EYES: Bright, intense, and vivid violet in color. Almond shaped and often with constricted pupils FACE: Sharp, symmetrical, and expressive with a round, wide nose LIPS: Full, soft, and usually smirking COMPLEXION: Deep russet brown BLEMISHES: N/A SCARS: Rare, faded, but heavy around the hands and knuckles. There are none of any particular note or story. TATTOOS: Clan markings on his face HEIGHT: 5′8 WEIGHT: 162 BUILD: Muscular, athletic, compact, and broad shouldered. DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Clan markings, hair color, intense stare, facial and ear piercings ALLERGIES: N/A USUAL HAIR STYLE: Cut short or chin length at most, no particular style, left to do what it wills. USUAL FACE LOOK: Prone to sharp toothed grins, teasing or taunting glances, and focused, unblinking stares. USUAL CLOTHING: Fitted leather and cloth, or loose linen pieces in either black or bright and vibrant colors. COMMON ACCESSORIES: Black choker, fingerless gloves, gold bracelets, and gold sunglasses(if during the day)

P S Y C H O L O G Y .

FEAR(S): Dying ASPIRATION(S): Longevity in banditry, general hedonism, and to grow and synthesize the most potent drugs with the cleanest highs. POSITIVE TRAITS: Charming, Truthful, Diligent, Loyal, Creative, Patient, Astute NEGATIVE TRAITS: Unabashedly Evil, Excessively Violent, Cunningly Manipulative, Largely Unpredictable  MBTI: ENFJ-A  ZODIAC: Sagittarius TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine-Choleric  SOUL TYPE(S): The Warrior & The Sage ANIMAL(S): The Wolf & The Crocodile VICE HABIT(S): Murder, Fogweed, Sensation Seeking FAITH: Agnostic GHOSTS?: Unsure AFTERLIFE?: Unsure REINCARNATION?: Unsure ALIENS?: Yes POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Vaguely anarchist leaning, but otherwise unconcerned. EDUCATION LEVEL:  Homeschooled and private tutelage while young, various forms of apprenticeship after leaving home, and continues to study and practice his trade and interests as an adult.

F A M I L Y .

FATHER: Zai’zi Routak; Alive MOTHERS: Śūn Yatā; Alive SIBLINGS: 14 sisters and 4 brothers EXTENDED FAMILY: Various aunts, cousins, nieces, nephews, etc. PETS: A nutkin named Chip, a mameshiba named Bombo, and a war panther named Jean-Baptiste Sevigny. NAME MEANING(S): Fifth son of Śūn Yatā   HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: N/A.

F A V O R I T E S .

BOOK: The medical journals pertaining to anatomy and physiology from Maril’s library.  DEITY: Sophia HOLIDAY: Valentione's Day  MONTH: July SEASON: Summer PLACE:  Mor Dhona WEATHER: Sunshower SOUND(S): The cacophony of active voices in a crowded room, the rhythmic breaking of waves against the shore, and the sharp, surprised, intake of breath by a person once stabbed. SCENT(S): Petrichor, blood, medicinal herbs, and burning wood. TASTE(S): Sharp, hot, and spicy peppers, bitter and sour tastes like lemons, and the savory and rich flavor of spiced cinnamon. FEEL(S): Textures that are sticky or tacky like blood, or gritty like sand, or rough like calloused hands. ANIMAL(S): Coeurls, Nutkins, Dogs NUMBER(S): 16 COLOR(S): Red, Blue, Pink, Purple, and Yellow

E X T R A .

TALENT(S): Cooking, mathematics, sleight of hand, hand-eye coordination BAD AT:  Drawing, hiding emotions, magic TURN ONS: Competence, violence, passion, assertiveness, risk-taking, vulnerability TURN OFFS: Spinelessness, arrogance, dishonesty HOBBIES: Botany, singing and songwriting, playing guitar, stalking people, exploring ruins TROPES:  It Amused Me, Sadist, Pragmatic Villainy, No-Nonsense Nemesis, Because I’m Good At It, Machiavelli Was Wrong, Even Evil Can Be Loved, Even Evil Has Loved Ones QUOTE(S): N/A

T R A I T S .

extroverted / in between / introverted disorganized / in between / organized close minded / in between / open-minded  calm / in between / anxious disagreeable / in between / agreeable cautious / in between / reckless patient / in between / impatient outspoken / in between / reserved leader / in between / follower empathetic / in between / apathetic optimistic / in between / pessimistic traditional / in between / modern hard-working / in between / lazy cultured / in between / uncultured  loyal / in between/ disloyal faithful / in between/ unfaithful

P O S S I B L E   H O O K S .

Drug Dealer: Śūn’ra is a drug dealer, and a fairly good one at that. He has his own distinct wares to offer, but will also make the effort to procure whatever a client desires beyond his normal fare. This is however, with the exception of Somnus as he refuses to deal with that particular substance in any capacity. Still, if one is looking for a quick fix, or a reliable long term supplier, he is always happy to provide.

Banditry: What Śūn’ra considers as his main “job”, is the thing he’s been doing the longest, and what he finds himself to be really good at. He has been known to take advantage of the Ala Mhigan refugees outside of Ul’dah, the Doman refugees who once made their temporary home around Mor Dhona, the various downtrodden in Gyr Abania, and generally any random, lightly armored person or persons on a dark road in and around the various housing districts. If you want to be a victim, a hero, a like-minded individual, or simply heard curious, ominous rumors of people being robbed and/or murdered in the dark, feel free to explore the possibility.

Hired Hand: As he’s generally always on the search for or considering the potential of the next thrill, Śūn’ra tends to keep his ear to the underground when it comes to offerings of various “unsavory” jobs. Whether you need an assassin, a torturer, a kidnapper, or someone to shake down those indebted to you, he’s generally up for the task. Additionally, while the Keeper himself has no grandiose plans for mass destruction, conquest, or the like, he’s more than happy to help those who do - for a price, and for as long as going along with his employer’s ambitions is more thrilling than the escapades of those attempting to put a stop to them... 

Dungeon-Diving: Śūn’ra has found that he rather enjoys heading into various dungeons and ruins in search of relics to either keep for himself or to sell for overinflated prices. The threat of monsters, voidsent, and other ne'er-do-wells amuses and excites him. It is possible to run into him alone, scoping out a location for possible treasures, or to convince him to join your own expedition.

General Evil-doing: In simplest terms, Śūn’ra finds evil things to just generally be more fun than good things. He’d like to meet others of a similar mindset, and isn’t shy about tracking such individuals down if he catches wind of them.

L O O K I N G   F O R .

I am looking for both short and long term RP with villainous contacts, friends, and business collaborators for various dubious plotlines, one shots, and experimental campaigns. Ideally something long term, with characters willing to get their hands dirty and not prone to passivity. 

Rivals, enemies, and people to thwart and be thwarted by. It’s not fun if he always wins or gets his way. People who are able to stand up to him and hold their own are wanted too. Doesn’t have to be long running as I am open to heroic one shots as well.

Pretty much anything. There’s a wide world of RP out there to be had, and various types of plotlines. I’m always open to hear things out, and even if I’m not super into something, we can shape it into something that works well for the both of us. Śūn'ra as a character has a wide variety of interests and hobbies, and not everything has to be about violence or mayhem(though that is the main focus), so please, if you have an idea, let me know!

C O N T A C T .

Here! On Tumblr!

In game via: Sun’ra Zhawn@balmung

@ffxiv-crystal-rp​

[terapsina]

what you gon’ do (when there’s blood in the water)

Summary:

“You’re going to put all the red, red rubies back inside her chest or I’m going to bleed them out of you instead.” Alice singsongs, eyes pointedly sliding sideways.

Batwoman is unconscious and bleeding out in front of her clinic, with something that looks like the length of an arrow sticking out of her stomach. So Mary's got a homicidal villain and a potentially dying vigilante on her hands and… wow, she really regrets not drinking that fifth cup of coffee.

/or/

The obligatory ‘Mary finds out Kate is Batwoman in the most stressful manner possible’ fic.

---

ao3

---

Most times Mary doesn’t mind having long days, she would never have made it through almost two and a half years of medical school, let alone added running an illegal clinic to her resume, if she couldn’t cut it on four hours of sleep and power naps all over the place - well, if she could add that to her resume without promptly landing across the desk from her head of the Crows step-father as he just sat there... and stared, silent and furious, or worse... called her mother.

But most days aren’t today. And today she’s been up since 4 am because of an attempted bombing at a housing complex in the poorer part of Gotham. The bomb itself hadn’t hurt anyone - Mary heard that apparently Batwoman had jumped on it, taking the brunt of the explosion with her body armor - but the evacuation had caused a panic and there’d been a stampede.

Which meant that those hurt that had the means probably went to Gotham Central Hospital. And those without health insurance who couldn’t afford to pay two thousand dollars or more for a broken arm, went to her. So yeah, it’s 2 am of the next night and she’s running on four cups of coffee and one ten minute nap six hours ago.

She considers if she needs another cup to get through getting home but decides that would probably bite her once she’s in her nice warm bed, lying on her Egyptian cotton sheets and can’t close her eyes.

Mary’s actually almost out of there when there’s three neat knocks on the metal doors of her clinic. Mary stops in place, - her bag almost over her shoulder - and groans aloud. Or sobs, it might have been a sob.

She drops the bag and walks for the door, reaching it, she lightly hits her head against the cool metal before gathering enough strength of will to actually open the door.

If no one’s dying she might kill them herself.

-or - and she might just be spit-balling here, a hysterical corner of her mind chimes in - she might be the one who’s about to die.

The person on the other side of the door is Red Alice and tonight she’s really seemed to have earned her name, because she is covered in blood.

Mary opens her mouth for what promises to be the loudest, most high pitched, blood curdling scream in her arsenal when Alice moves and slams her palm over Mary’s mouth, the other one lands on her throat, squeezing - just slightly but Mary gets the message.

“Quiet like a mouse, my dear. Cats are on the prowl and we don’t want them on our tails.” Alice snaps at her, eyes flashing.

Gasping and trying to think past the terror, she tries to remember where she’d put the gun Beatrice - the mother with no insurance and a son with a severe peanut allergy - had given her after the last time Alice had directed her attention toward Mary. But it’s locked inside the drawer of her desk, and her desk is in the other room. There’s no way she’s getting to it before Alice does whatever she came here to do.

“What... what do you want?” Mary rasps out as soon as Alice’s left hand leaves her mouth - her right is still dangerously close to a carotid artery. She doesn’t want to think about exactly how fast Alice can go for one of those knives she likes to play with so much any time she drops a video message for Gotham.

“You’re going to put all the red, red rubies back inside her chest or I’m going to bleed them out of you instead.” Alice singsongs, eyes pointedly sliding sideways.

Mary’s eyes follow her and land on a second person she hadn’t noticed in her initial terror over seeing Gotham’s most wanted. Though the fact that the woman who’s slumped against the wall a few feet away is wearing all black might have helped conceal her in those first moments, now though Mary can’t look away from the shock of red hair lying in a mess around her masked head. The identity of the body is unmistakable.

Batwoman is unconscious and bleeding out in front of her clinic, with something that looks like the length of an arrow sticking out of her stomach. So Mary’s got a homicidal villain and a potentially dying vigilante on her hands and... wow, she really regrets not drinking that fifth cup of coffee. 

Mary’s mind is blank with confusion, - exhaustion - the scene just doesn’t make sense. Since the Batwoman’s appearance months ago there’s been dozens of reported clashes between her and Red Alice in the news. 

“Why would you want me to save Batwoman?” She asks, her heart - which had already been running - feels like it’s just picked up even more speed and is well on the way to beating its way out of her chest. 

She tips a bit forward to get a better look, still careful of Alice’s uncertain motives, and the door she’d opened moments before slides open a little wider. She knows that Alice says something then but she doesn’t hear it past the buzzing in her ears, the light from the doorway has moved and landed on the lower half of Batwoman’s face.

“Oh, God.” Mary gasps and pushes Alice away, no longer caring about the threat she brings to her. “Kate!”

In a moment she’s on her knees beside her sister, assessing the injury. Penetrating trauma to the upper right abdomen. She’s breathing but Mary can’t get at her pulse, the armor that somehow hasn’t protected her from whatever happened is instead getting in the way of Mary’s attempt to get at a pulse point. She doesn’t like how cold her face is to the touch though.

“Kate!” Mary tries to rouse her, slapping her lightly at the cheek. “Kate, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?”

There’s no response. All her years at med-school have taught her how bad that is. Kate needs a hospital, she needs... she- Mary takes in the picture Kate makes and falters. She can’t take Batwoman to a hospital, which means she can’t take Kate to a hospital. Because if Kate is Gotham City’s new vigilante then the moment she gets identified she’ll get arrested, and getting arrested will get her killed.

For a moment Mary doesn’t know what to do and then her eyes land back on the murderer on her clinic's doorstep.

Alice is standing frozen, looking at Kate with a dazed expression, like reality isn’t really sinking in yet.

Two months ago this woman sent someone to kill her. And Mary would like nothing more than to get as far away from her as possible but right now she’s the only person around who can help Mary save Kate. Which is clearly a sentiment Alice shares or she would never have brought her here in the first place.

Smothering all other instincts Mary does what she has to.

“Help me get her inside.” She orders.

Alice doesn’t react, still staring at Kate.

“Alice.” Mary tries again.”We need to get her inside, Alice! Alice! Beth!”

That seems to have finally done it, because she lurches down to her knees to grab Kate by one of her arms while Mary goes for the other. Together they hoist Kate to her feet and start dragging her inside the building.

“How do you take this off?” Mary asks a minute later as soon as she has hastily disinfected the surface of the table she’s planning to put Kate on. First though they need to get her out of that armor.

As soon as Alice starts undoing something behind Kate’s back Mary joins her. They manage to free her from the costume without jostling the arrow too much and then finally Mary can see what she’s dealing with.

Kate’s pulse is steady but weak, which indicates she’s gone into Hypovolemia but she’s not quite in danger of her heart stopping. Yet. She needs a blood transfusion.

First things first she grabs two pairs of surgical gloves and throws one toward Alice. “Put those on!”

“Bossy.” Alice says and tut-tuts at her. Normally that would call for a more involved response but she follows her instructions so Mary just throws a hurried glare at her and lets it go.

As soon as their hands are covered by the latex gloves she pours some more of the disinfectant over them and then guides Alice to place her hands over Kate’s abdomen, carefully encircling the arrow in a way that makes sure it doesn’t move.

“Put pressure there.” Mary says and turns to run toward the back of the room to get her blood transfusion kit, she falters as she remembers Kate’s blood type. She doesn’t have any B negative blood and she’s fresh out of the O neg. She spins back around. “What’s your blood type?”

“What?”

“Your blood, do you have the same type as Kate?” She snaps, irritated at the delay of this conversation. At any other time she’d be far too terrified to yell at a known killer, right now she’s far more terrified of watching her si- watching Kate bleed to death.

“Yes. I think so.” Alice says.

“You think so, or you’re sure?” She asks, voice harsh, she’s moving again taking the kit and starting to unpack it so that if she gets the answer she needs she’s ready to do her job at once.

“I’m sure.” Alice says and her voice hardens with certainty. “We got tested in school. B negative?”

Mary exhales in relief and moves to insert the needle in Kate’s arm. Then she does the same to Alice and tries not to think too much about it.

Saving Kate’s life first. Figuring out how to survive the night in case Alice still plans to finish the job she started by sending her ax-happy boyfriend after her? Later.

---

The next half an hour had turned into a hectic rush of removing the arrow from Kate’s abdomen - which luckily hadn’t penetrated as deeply as Mary had feared - and replacing her lost blood with Alice’s before it became too dangerous for the donation to go on, and Mary was forced to replace the blood with a saline solution.

Getting the arrow out might have turned into more of a struggle than it would have been if the arrowhead had gone out her back but at least it had avoided piercing any of the major organs. It hadn’t actually even nicked her large intestine which is good because Mary doesn’t think she could have fixed that.

She’s already done more tonight than she’s entirely comfortable with doing inside the sub-par facilities available, actually. Or, you know, with still having a year and a half of medical school left to go.

And Red Alice is still only a few steps away from her.

Though at least now that she’s donated so much of her blood to Kate she should be woozy enough that Mary might be able to knock her out if the situation calls for it.

And Kate is stable.

Which means Mary’s mind is pulling back from the emergency mode of ‘Kate is dying’ and switching gears to ‘Kate is Batwoman’.

Which she hadn’t told Mary. Despite the fact that they’ve spoken more in the past two months than they had in the past five years combined, or the fact that Mary had thought they might actually have been starting to build the relationship she’d given up on ever sharing with her, or the fact that Kate knew Mary’s big ‘go-to-jail-if-ever-found-out’ secret but at no point even hinted at her own.

A secret that Alice obviously knew. Because of course she did, because somehow a mentally unstable villain was more trustworthy than Mary.

The feeling blooming inside Mary’s chest is ugly and unfair, there’s a dozen other reasons for why Alice might have found out Kate’s secret, it’s also a feeling Mary’s very familiar with.

She’s been envious of Beth for almost twelve years. Not because she wanted to steal the affection Kate had always held like a torch in wait for Beth to come back, - or because she wanted to replace Beth - but because she’s always wanted to share in that affection.

Because she’s never heard Kate call Mary her sister. Not even her step-sister. Even when Kate had cause to introduce someone to her it would never be: ‘This is Mary, my stepsister.’ it was always ever and only ‘This is Mary, our parents are married.’

It had never failed to make something sharp twist inside her chest.

Enough. She needs a distraction from this pointless carousel of feeling not quite good enough, so she turns away from Kate and moves toward the discarded pieces of the suit that was left at the side of the room once they’d gotten it off Kate.

Something about the front of it catches Mary’s eye. The black armor isn’t pristine with one hole on the suit’s frontal side like she’d guess would be the case if it got hit with some kind of armor-piercing arrow - are those a thing? Because she’s heard rumors about Star City.

The suit looks damaged, bent inward and cracked in something almost like a spiderweb pattern. There’s jagged almost melted looking spots on it, especially around the lower torso. It looks as if... - her mind jumps back to what she’d heard from a few of today’s patients, about Batwoman jumping on top of the bomb.

“What exactly happened?” She asks before she can think better of attracting Alice’s attention.

“What always happens.” Alice says from close behind her. Mary forces herself not to jump out of her skin. “A lucky shot by a pathetic mouse on a bad, sad, mad day and the bat fell down. Oh well, you live, you learn, you chop a few heads tomorrow.”

Alice is a bit unsteady on her feet but not as much so as Mary might have hoped, and that intense focused stare is back on her face. The focus entirely on Mary.

Mary knows not to flinch. Besides, there’s something almost familiar about Alice’s eyes, they’re angry and wounded and lonely. She sees Kate in them, which she guesses means she’s seeing Beth in them.

She’s just not sure if that’s very good or very bad.

“What are you going to do?” Mary asks. Or starts asking because there’s the sound of a broken glass pane hitting the floor and shattering from a room above them. The building is abandoned. That’s why it’s perfect for Mary’s purposes. Somehow Mary thinks it’s too much to hope that some homeless animal has found itself wandering onto the property.

“Oh. I love a mouse trap.” Alice says as she throws back her head with a smile. Then she grabs Mary’s shoulders and pulls her closer. “Go make sure Katy-Kate is all tucked in and hiding behind the Bat, okay? I’ll be right back.”

And then she’s gone.

The first thing Mary does is pocket the thing she’s been trying to get her hands on without being observed for the past half an hour. The second thing she does is go for the costume. There’s no way Mary has enough time to dress Kate back into Batwoman but she doesn’t need to put on her the whole thing, just the mask. And that she does quickly enough.

Kate looks ridiculous and Mary mourns the fact that she doesn’t have time to take a picture - not that she could anyway, with all these hackers rising up from shadows recently, both the villainous type and the plain gross ones.

She’s finished by the time the ominous silence that’s been covering the clinic since Alice left, gets broken by something heavy and soft hitting something wooden.

She leaves the room and then knocks a closet filled with clean linens over the doorway, quickly she makes sure it’s jammed in place so that if anyone tries to move it to get inside at Kate, Mary will be able to hear it. Then she runs toward the sounds of laughter and smashing glass and breaking furniture from one of the inner rooms. Which tells Mary she probably knows where Alice and their uninvited guest is.

The room the fight is taking place in is the one where Mary had moved all of the too damaged furniture coming with the building. It wasn’t a neat place to begin with and now it looks like a hurricane has gone over it. 

Alice is grinning, teeth bared and trying to remain standing by one of the walls. She’s also pale and breathing too hard, the blood she’d donated clearly finally catching up with her. There’s one of Mary’s scalpels in her hands and a smashed lamp by her feet.

The man is with his back to Mary on his knees, arm bleeding. And he’s reaching for the hunting crossbow by his feet.

Mary doesn’t so much think as react as she grabs the closest heavy object at hand - another old lamp that wouldn’t turn on - and smashes it over the guy’s head.

He drops like a particularly heavy stone.

“Are you okay?” Mary asks on reflex and lets the lamp fall out of her hands to the floor.

“You know, I think I might be starting to like you.” Alice says at her, though her smile hasn’t lost its savage look, there is however a hint of actual interest in her eyes. Mary shudders, she’s not sure if that’s actually better. Then Alice’s eyes go back to the unconscious man Mary’s guessing shot Kate, and all hint of humanity drops from her face like she’s a snake shedding the skin that doesn’t quite fit. She takes a step for the man, the scalpel in her hand twisting around with a play of fingers and Mary panics.

“No, stop!” Mary says and rushes to stand in front of Alice. “You don’t have to kill him. He didn’t see Kate. I’ll have some guys drop him off somewhere in the morning and make an anonymous tip. He’ll be arrested, he’s not a threat anymore.”

“Really now? And how will you do that, he’s gonna wake up any minute now. And we can’t have that, now can we?” Alice says, eyes still intent on her target.

Mary’s face hardens, her hand going into her pocket. Then she turns around - turns her back to Alice, a panicked voice in her head adds - and drops to her knees to inject the liquid from the syringe she’d been hiding, into the man’s bloodstream.

“He’ll wake up when I want him to wake up. And no one’s murdering anyone inside my clinic. It’s off limits.” She says and gets back to her feet.

Alice just stares at her, her lips pressed in irritation, the look on her face that of a child that’s being told there’s no sweets for dinner.

“Fine.” She snaps. “I’m not going to kill him here.”

“Good.” Mary says, dropping from her protective stance. Relieved that she doesn’t have to risk her life to protect a man that almost killed Kate. Her eyes move down to the scalpel Alice is still playing with. “Can I have that back now, please?”

“No.” Alice says and tilts her head sideways, looking at her with thoughtful eyes. “Mine now.”

She opens her mouth to argue but then closes it, all things considered a scalpel is probably the easiest of the stuff she’d used up tonight to replace and she doesn’t want to risk setting Alice off.

“Be a dear, tell my sister I won’t always be there to pull her wings out of the fire. And don’t sing to Daddy’s crows, I wouldn’t want to have to come back.” She says and makes the scalpel vanish into one of the pockets of her blue coat, before twisting dramatically on her heel and starting to walk out of the room and away from both Mary and the room Kate’s still in.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Mary yells toward Alice’s turned back and almost adds how Kate’s her sister too. What holds her back is not so much the potentially suicidal results of those words as the fact that Kate would probably disagree. 

She wouldn’t say it, Mary knows that much at least, but she’d think it and that’s painful enough.

After Alice is gone Mary turns around toward the knocked out and drugged man and sighs. “Now, how the hell am I gonna move you?”

---

It takes another hour before Kate starts stirring.

In that time Mary has managed to drag the man into the room and wrapped up his bleeding shoulder - though she’s left him on the floor by one of the walls, which as far as she’s concerned serves him right... even if it had more to do with there being absolutely no way for her to lift him up onto one of the old spring-mattress beds than anything else.

She’d also taken off Kate’s mask again now that the threat of her being identified as Batwoman was over, and made herself that cup of coffee she’d decided against before she’d been so rudely interrupted from going home.

She hears Kate groan and walks over.

“Drink this.” Mary says and passes Kate a glass of water as soon as she opens her eyes and starts trying to get up. Then she puts an additional pillow under Kate’s head to help her stay upright. “You’re dehydrated.”

“Mary?” Kate asks, shaking her head as soon as she’s downed the water. “What are you- what happened?”

“That guy over there shot you with an arrow and then Alice brought you to me.” Mary says, nodding toward the man in question. “I patched you up.”

It’s then that Kate’s face flashes with fear and Mary has to look away. “You don’t have to worry, I’m not going to tell anyo-”

“Did Beth hurt you?” Kate interrupts Mary’s attempt to assure her that she wouldn’t betray Kate’s secret.

“What?”

“Beth. Alice. She didn’t try to hurt you did she?” Kate asks, real worry coloring her voice. Mary just stares at her, chest tightening with something painful but... not.

“Oh, no. I mean she kinda scared me half to death at first 'cause Red Alice and all that blood, duh, but- no, she didn’t hurt me.” Mary says and consciously stops herself from reaching up to rub at her neck, Alice hadn’t really choked her, though she knows her skin well enough to know that by tomorrow there will be visible bruising there anyway.

“Good.” Kate says, but her eyes are still running over Mary like she’s cataloging every hair out of place, just to make sure it’s true.

Mary doesn’t quite know what to do with Kate’s uncharacteristic reaction. So instead she changes the subject.

“Yeah,” she says and her eyes slide sideways to the unspoken elephant of the room. “So, don’t take this the wrong way but I really need Batwoman to not be here by the time it starts getting light outside.”

She sees Kate flinch from the corner of her eye, as she too finally notices the Batwoman costume and maybe only now puts together all the pieces to realize exactly what Mary knows now.

For a moment Kate says nothing. Then she looks like she’s weighing something and coming to a conclusion. 

“It’s okay. Luke can come pick me up, honestly I’m pretty sure he’s already freaking out, I wasn’t exactly supposed to go on a patrol yesterday. The suit’s kinda of a mess right now. ” Kate says with a shrug and then visibly regrets it as she winces and clutches at her stomach. “I just hadn’t thought it was so much of a mess it would let a low speed projectile through.”

“Yes, I’m guessing that’s what happens when people jump on bombs, Kate.” Mary quips back dryly.

“Yeah,” she says, “about that.”

“We can talk about that later.” Mary says and then hands her another glass of water and two tablets of pain medication. “Drink that down. I’d give you some for later but you can afford to buy your own, and I’m already running low.”

“What about him?” Kate asks as soon as she’s followed Mary’s instructions and nods toward her would-be killer. “He’ll tell the cops where he’d tracked me to to cut a deal, or he’ll tell his friends.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, I’ve got guys in prison.” Mary assures her.

“You’ve got guys in prison.” Kate says, a wry twist to her mouth.

“It’s not what it sound like, okay? It’s just that, well, for some of them I’m the closest thing to health insurance their families have, so I’m like... officially off limits.” Mary says and feels an embarrassed blush rising to her cheeks.

“Wow.” Kate smirks.

“What!?” Mary can’t help snapping, irritated and recalling all the times Kate made her feel smaller just by looking at her.

“My little stepsister really is the Meredith Grey of Gotham’s underground.” Kate teases her fondly, though her smile has slipped a bit and then drops completely at the sharp breath that catches in Mary’s throat. “What?”

“Nothing, you’ve just never- it’s nothing.” Mary says, swallowing back the sudden and inexplicable tears threatening to build up and drop down her cheeks. She feels like Kate has just punched her in the chest, except somehow it’s simultaneously the warmest feeling she remembers having.

---

The next time Mary sees Kate is a day later when she shows up at Mary’s apartment carrying takeout from the Mexican place around the corner.

“I thought we should talk.” Kate says when Mary opens the door.

“You should be in bed.” Mary disagrees but lets her in, honestly she was kind of expecting her to come around, especially after she read today’s front page article.

“I’m fine.” Kate says.

Mary rolls her eyes and snorts.

“I sewed up your stomach yesterday, you needed a blood transfusion. You’re really not.” She guides her to the living room to sit down on the couch. For a few minutes there’s a semi-comfortable silence as Mary sets up the dinner Kate brought over onto the table.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was Batwoman.” Kate says as soon as Mary has sat down beside her and started on her quesadilla.

“It’s okay.” Mary says but doesn’t quite meet Kate’s eyes, she’s not lying but it still kind of stings. “I wish you would have trusted me but I get it.”

“It wasn’t about trust, Mary.” Kate says. “I didn’t want to put you in unnecessary danger.”

“Well can you not put yourself in unnecessary danger either, please? I’d rather avoid as many future visits from Alice as possible.” She says and unconsciously starts playing with the colorful silk scarf around her neck.

“So I take it you saw the article.” Kate sighs.

Mary’s eyes flicker toward the newspaper with a grimace.

“You mean the one about how Red Alice broke into police holding and killed a suspect found through an anonymous tip before he could be questioned? Yeah.” She says, a stupid guilty feeling bubbling inside her chest cavity. “She said she wasn’t going to kill him at my clinic, I should have guessed she meant that literally.”

“It’s not your fault, Mary.”

“Right.”

“It’s not, you shouldn’t-” Kate says and then freezes, eyes zeroing in on Mary’s hand, the one running nervously over the scarf covering her neck. “What’s that?”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Mary tries but isn’t all that surprised to receive back a glare, so she sighs and removes the scarf hiding the bruises in the shape of a hand-print.

“I though you said Beth didn’t hurt you.” Kate whispers, voice upset.

“She didn’t... much. I was gonna scream so she-”

“That’s not an excuse, Mary.”

“I know. It’s just that all things considered this time went a lot better than last time, There were no axes for one.” She tries joking to lighten the mood, it doesn’t seem to work. “And she said she might actually be starting to like me now.”

If anything, Kate looks even more worried at that.

“Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too.” Mary nods, it had felt like Alice had forgotten about her in the past two months and now she has a bad feeling that’s no longer going to be the case.

Feeling like she needs to move on to a lighter subject she winds the silk back around her neck and grins a bit forcefully at Kate.

“So, you’re Batwoman then, how did that happen?”

---

After that, their dinner is pretty uneventful. Kate fills her in on that whole vigilante business, though Mary’s pretty sure she’s still keeping something back. She doesn’t fail to notice how in Kate’s retelling of finding Batman’s secret lair she never actually mentions any specifics.

But they do talk and it’s not that different than it’s been since Kate had come back to Gotham and they’d started actually hanging out sometimes, like how actual sisters might. They jump through topics, covering criminals Batwoman has taken down and patients Mary has patched up, the local barista Kate has been flirting with and the fellow med-student who's been hitting on Mary. She mentions the message Alice had wanted to convey to Kate and then they move back on to some lighter subjects when Kate's mood plummets.

Eventually it’s getting late and Kate starts getting ready to go home... well, hopefully home. Or at least not out to patrol the city. Kate’s definitely not healthy enough for that yet and Mary doesn’t see how the Bat costume could have possibly gotten fixed this fast.

But before Kate can leave, Mary impulsively jumps forward to hug her. Squeezing her older stepsister for all it’s worth - though she’s careful not to put pressure near her abdomen. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

“Mary?” Kate says but doesn’t try to pull back, which means Mary doesn’t feel like she has to either. It's not the first hug Mary's ever shared with Kate but it's the first one where Kate hasn't initially frozen, which puts this as the best hug she's ever gotten from Kate.

“Yeah?”

“I know I’ve never said this, and that I should have but I’m gonna say it now. I’m glad our parents married each other. I’m glad that we’re family.” Kate says and squeezes Mary back.

“Well, duh.” Mary says and covertly tries to wipe away the tears before Kate can get the chance to see them. “I’m awesome.”

[asrasotherbottom]

it is i, the fat!mc anon, glad that u liked my nice little message and im BACK with another ficlet scenario - in the beginning of julian's route he has to tug up mc's clothes to examine the eel bite/use his curse mark right? and a self-conscious mc might be Panicky but then he carries on as though he wasn't disgusted and maybe they confront him about it when they're in the garden and booyah time for him to charm and tell them how beautiful he finds them. hopefully u can work with this ❤️

hello god is that you its me amy.  (im gonna pull a bunch of dialogue from the game itself for the scenes) 

this got L O N G (1261 words) bless anyone who actually reads this. Content warning: i got #Real with the fat body anxiety so, keep yourselves safe. 

————————————————————–

The searing pain shot through their body as they laid back, barely conscious. They were still mildly incredulous that Julian was able to half carry them into the alleyway, but their nerves about it quickly subsided when the pain hit them at full force. 

“Let me see that bite.” Julian’s voice roused them to consciousness once more. They bobbed their head before realizing everything that would entail. The pain was excruciating but what would Julian think seeing their body like that. They couldn’t bear to suck in their stomach or tense it at all, nor did they have time to dwell on that thought much longer. 

“I’ll have to take that as a yes.” Julian slid up their shirt, his hands working nimbly over their abdomen. They stared at the stars, trying hard to focus neither on the pain nor on how disgusted Julian likely was, not with the blood and the bite, but with their body.  

“The bleeding won’t stop, damn.” As Julian peeled his gloves off, they noticed his murderer’s brand, dark pink against his pale skin. They shuddered as his cold hands pressed into their abdomen, barely registering the pain. Their thoughts ran over and over in their mind about if he truly thought they were worth helping, what he was thinking that he had to touch their fat stomach, how disgusted he was. They held still, continuing to struggle to stay conscious despite their racing thoughts. 

“Deep breaths. This will only take a minute or two.” After a moment the pain subsides, and they felt themselves relax for a moment, nearly forgetting what was going on around them. 

“Why are you helping me?” 

“Shouldn’t I? You’re injured. Surely you don’t think I’ll let you bleed out on the street. Now, are you feeling any better?” They were reassured that he wasn’t so disgusted he’d let them bleed out in the street. They nodded softly. 

“You’re lucky, believe it or not, those were vampire eels. One bite can bleed a man dry in minutes. The Count was fond of such pets.” They noticed the familiar looking magic mark glowing on his throat, staring just a moment too long. 

“Ah. Do you recognize your master’s handiwork? This was his parting gift to me. A curse.” The fresh blood collecting under his clothes drew their attention. They absentmindedly patted the matching spot on their own body that was still slick from their blood. The emotions of Julian seeing them like that came flooding back while he explained that the mark allowed him to take others’ wounds. 

“It won’t last. It never does.”His grin is undercut by the look of pain in his eyes. 

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Julian’s face flushes as he pointedly avoids their gaze. “I”m just glad you’re alright.” They both hear the guards a moment later, and Julian swiftly pulls them into an alleyway, pressing his body flush up against them. They could feel his warm blood on their body, for a moment they panicked at the thought of what he must be feeling pressed up against them, but quickly shook those thoughts from their head. There were far more pressing matters at hand. 

Julian looked at them with pain in his eyes, quietly uttering their name as if to say something, but they were interrupted by the guards. 

“Not the time.” Julian grabbed their hand and broke into a run. They kept up as best they could with him, their lungs burning in the cool air. Despite the open wound on his abdomen he was still fast and nimble. They worried that they wouldn’t be able to keep up and get him caught, what he would think of them then. 

Seeing a garden out of the corner of their eye, they tug hard on Julian’s hand, veering him off to the side. He helped them climb over the gate; they landed with a thud on the other side. The embarrassment they felt that he had to lift them twice tonight caused their face to flush even more than from the exertion. He followed after, landing gracefully on his feet. 

They try hard to muffle their hard breathing, but the garden is deadly silent save for the two of them. 

“Look at this place, ha, that was some quick thinking on your part. Looks like you’ve a knack for discovering hidden beauty.” Julian had already caught his breath and was wandering around the garden. 

He wrapped his arms around a statue. “Dangerous looking brute, eh?” “I like a little danger.” Their voice was steadying as they walked over and surveyed the statue. 

“It seems you’re full of hidden depths. But tell me…do you really mean that? You’re certainly brave, its true, but do you know what you’re getting into?” 

“Do you?” Julian’s eyes widened at their sharp retort, he stumbled over his words looking for a response, but coming up short. “Why…why aren’t you disgusted with me?” He looked taken aback for a moment, they couldn’t tell if the pain in his eyes was from their words or his still bleeding wound. 

“Why, why would I be?” Julian’s brows furrowed as he leaned back against the wall. They gestured vaguely at their body, but Julian’s expression didn’t change. 

“How hard it must’ve been to lift me those times, or when you had to touch my stomach for the bite?” They shuddered, pressing a finger into their soft abdomen as a visual for him. 

“Do you really think so little of me?” His words stung their ears as he spoke them. His voice was quieter than it as before. They hadn’t meant it like that. 

“Its not that its just…I always assume the worst. It hurts less that way.” To their surprise, a small smile graced Julian’s lips. 

“We’re alike then, you and me. Assume the worst and then when the worst happens…at least your hopes weren’t up.” His face falls by the end of his sentence, his gaze cast towards the ground. They cradled his cheek in their hand, bringing his gaze up to meet theirs. 

“What if I did get my hopes up this time? That maybe, since you didn’t hate what you saw, what you felt-” They were cut off, softly, by Julian. 

“Not just “didn’t hate”.” 

“What?” 

“I didn’t just “not hate” what I saw…what I felt.” Julian pulled them closer to him, one arm around their waist. Again they could feel the warm blood from his torso against them, but he seemed unfazed. Julian’s eyes searched theirs, looking for something that neither of them could quite put into words. As they pressed into his wound, he bit his bottom lip gently. 

“Dare I say I think you’re stunning?” His voice had more confidence than they expected from the blushing, soft doctor in front of them. They gazed at him in wide eyed wonder, feeling a blush creep across their cheeks. “Or that I wished my hands could skim across your body again.” His hands sunk into their sides as he slid them down their stomach. They bit their lip gently before craning their neck up, catching him in a kiss that neither of them seemed to expect. 

“Dare I say I think you’re worth getting my hopes up for?” Julian’s eyes no longer held any pain as they looked at them with open adoration. Before they could respond, a voice rang out through the night. 

“Guards!” They pulled back from him, looking for a way out. 

“Time to go.” He grabbed hold of their wrist, and whisked them out of the garden.