#we didn't think it would happen but we're here
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AITA for asking my gf's son not to call me dad?
I (22M) have been dating my gf (24F) for 4 years now. She has a 7 year old whose dad isn't in the picture anymore - he hasn't been since the kid was born. My gf says he was abusive and I think there are some charges against him but as far as I know, nothing was proven. He has other kids too who he does have a relationship with but he doesn't have custody rights with my gf's son so they hasn't been allowed to have a relationship.
My gf and I live together and are both in college. I am going to be a surgeon and she wants to study science but she hasn't decided what to do with it yet. Because we're both busy with that, her son doesn't live with us full time. He stays with her parents during the week. This means that we have to dedicate our weekends to looking after the kid. I didn't really mind this at first but her parents are really pushing for her to look after him during the week now too, which we don't have time for. I hear how that doesn't sound great but the plan has always been that her parents will take care of the kid until she finishes with school. She has classes for 4+ hours from Mon-Thurs, plus she needs to spend a few hours studying every day, then she has labs on Friday for most of the day. I have classes all week for fewer hours each day but next semester I'll probably be doing an internship so I'll have more work to do. Then we pick up her kid on Friday evenings and spend the whole weekend with him. There's hardly any time for us to spend time alone together. I like her son and he's usually fun to have around but both of us are obviously stressed from having no down time so most weekends my gf and her son get into an argument or something and things escalate. I try not to get involved when that happens. Sometimes my gf and I are the ones who end up arguing and in that case, I usually go to my parents house.
Basically, I'm not super involved with the kid. Her parents want us to spend all of our free time on parenting despite originally agreeing that it was better if my gf focused on school. He has a dad who could probably be more involved but my gf and her family don't want him around. I've suggested that maybe it would be a better solution for her son to live with his dad full time, that way she can focus on school and then her career and still have time for herself and for us. I love her but she doesn't really have maternal instincts and she doesn't actually want kids, she has said a lot that she regrets not giving him up for adoption.
Recently, we were out for dinner with my gf's sister and kid, and the kid called me his dad. He's done this a lot and usually I just kind of ignore it, but no one else corrected him this time and I felt like the kid deserved the truth. I asked him then and there not to call me dad because he has a real dad who probably wouldn't like it. He didn't seem upset by it but my gf's sister lost it. She thinks I don't want the kid around and that I'm the reason my gf doesn't spend more time with him. She also thinks this was the first time my gf's son heard about his bio dad. Total conjecture, but she won't hear my side of it. The kid knows I havent been around since he was born so he obviously knows someone else must be his dad. I told my gf I don't think it's fair to let the kid call me dad when he has a real dad out there and she sort of agrees. She told her son not to call me dad anymore and they had a long talk about it. She still doesn't want the real dad involved but that's a whole other battle.
Here's why I think I might be the asshole: I said this to the kid in a moment of annoyance, which probably wasn't the way to bring it up. Like I said, he didn't seem upset by it but I wasn't there for the longer conversation so I don't know exactly. I think he's old enough to be allowed to know about his real dad in a more serious way. It's kind of messed up that he could run into his dad in the street (we live in a pretty small town) and wouldn't know it. I'm not his dad and for the foreseeable future, I won't be responsible for him as a parent because he still lives with his grandparents. I think it's reasonable to say that he shouldn't call me dad. So, AITA?
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dance until we're bones
pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader
summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.
a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier
wc: 17.1k
warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one
Hotch can barely stay awake.
He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point.
It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel.
He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there.
Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always.
Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.”
“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?”
“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”
“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.”
Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”
“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”
“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.”
“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says.
Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”
“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes.
“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says.
“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.”
“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”
“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs.
JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.”
Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.”
-
The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file.
The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene.
It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house.
They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt.
It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control.
All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.
Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics.
They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it.
They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.
Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.
Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything.
First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect.
“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.”
“What has he been charged for?”
“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail four years ago, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”
“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”
“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”
Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”
“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs.
They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind.
The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive.
“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.”
“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh.
Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising.
You.
Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock.
You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford.
“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.
He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.”
Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?”
Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”
“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?”
Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.
“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says.
You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”
You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…”
You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house.
It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all.
Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub.
“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?”
“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.”
“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?”
He nods. “I had a change of heart.”
You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.”
Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”
You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.”
Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Charles area.”
“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him.
“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”
“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”
“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”
And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things:
Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be.
Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school.
“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.
“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts.
“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”
“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says.
You glower at him, but you stay silent.
“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.”
“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”
“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”
He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.”
“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?”
You nod. “He lives with me.”
He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away.
“Why is that?” Hotch asks.
You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too.
“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”
“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going.
“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.”
“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.”
“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?”
Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you.
“Really?”
He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him.
He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her.
And he didn’t even know when she died.
You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad.
“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went five years ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says.
You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb.
“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.
“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.”
Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.”
His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even.
“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.”
Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.”
“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.
“No.”
“Do you want them to?”
“...No.”
You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.”
You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”
“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”
Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”
You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.”
Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you.
“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.”
“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says.
You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.”
Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.”
She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door.
Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again.
“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up.
“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?”
“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.”
“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.”
“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.
“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”
Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”
“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”
Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret.
“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”
Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”
“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”
“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.”
Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case—
He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.
You’ve changed a lot. So has he.
And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him.
That’s the only thing that should be on his mind.
-
“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.”
“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”
“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”
“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!”
Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.”
“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts.
They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”
“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”
You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief.
“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”
You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe.
“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused.
“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”
“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss.
“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”
Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”
“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”
“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”
“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”
“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”
“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”
He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.”
“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.”
“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses.
You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once.
“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”
“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”
“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck.
“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”
“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”
You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.
“You’ve got that right.”
He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on.
“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”
“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”
“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity.
“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”
Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs.
Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world.
“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”
“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.
“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”
“Looks like it.”
You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air.
(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)
-
You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger.
Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it.
You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.
They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing.
All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people.
And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong.
You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you.
Because god— what are the odds?
What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother?
It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years.
It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time.
If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant.
Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”
“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you.
“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.”
“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties.
You wonder what he sees when he looks at you.
“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?”
“Not one for small talk,” you remark.
“I never have been.”
“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.”
You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now.
You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face.
“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”
“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.”
“Rent or own?”
“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”
“What inspired the move?”
“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.”
“And home is?”
“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.”
“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says.
“Sources can lie.”
Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.”
Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.”
He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up.
You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had.
You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened.
“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”
“None of those sound like questions,” you say.
“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly.
“I don’t know,” you admit.
“You don’t know,” he repeats.
“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I don’t ask questions.”
“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it.”
“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.”
Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?”
“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.”
“You didn’t tell him—”
“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?”
He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse.
“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.”
“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.”
“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.”
“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?”
“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.”
“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply.
Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly.
“And you’re wrong, by the way.”
“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken.
“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.”
And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you.
“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.”
“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.”
“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”
“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.”
“...I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least.
“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.”
Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.”
You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.”
“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.”
You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron.
“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“You know th—”
Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.”
The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.”
He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file.
“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”
You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking.
“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.”
“The profile—”
“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.”
“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.”
“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly.
He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this.
For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right.
You have to be right.
The room feels even colder.
Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do.
You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him.
-
Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room.
“She does not like you.”
“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie.
“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.”
“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands.
Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor.
“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.”
“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”
“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.”
“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him.
And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him.
He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things.
“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”
Morgan frowns. “Explain.”
“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”
“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”
“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.”
“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again.
“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.”
“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.”
“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”
“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.
“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.”
Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation.
“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.”
They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego.
“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.”
Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside.
He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”
You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch…
Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore.
Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you.
“They sent a new one in,” you say.
“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”
You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual.
“I can imagine.”
He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off.
“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.”
“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.
He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation.
The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time.
Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks.
When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”
He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”
“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks.
“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says.
She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”
Hotch isn’t sure yet.
But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong.
-
Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier.
It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once.
You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron.
You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s head as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard.
You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you.
It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round.
You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed.
Aaron says your name, and you hum.
“Are you listening?” he asks.
“Of course,” you say.
“Your eyes are closed.”
“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?”
You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly.
“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully.
Your eyes open and you frown.
You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.
It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate.
“Yeah? What’d she want?”
“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”
You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.
“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”
“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.”
“...Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?”
He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”
“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.”
Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?”
“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.”
You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron.
You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction.
But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up.
“Go for it,” you finally say.
He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?”
“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.”
You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you.
“Thank you,” he says.
“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.”
He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder.
“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything.
You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand.
Sometimes you need reminders.
“I love you too.”
-
“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.”
“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs.
Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third.
No one expected this to happen so soon.
The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt.
Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work.
An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation.
Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved.
He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it.
Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press.
Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount.
“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.”
He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”
“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.”
Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.”
“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on.
“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.”
-
The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight.
JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city.
The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information.
“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.”
“What are they?” Hotch asks.
“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says.
“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks.
“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.”
“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”
“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.”
Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.”
“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests.
Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.”
“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?”
“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.”
“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully.
Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.”
“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.
“And?” Hotch asks.
“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.”
Hotch frowns. You?
“You’re sure?” he asks.
“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.”
“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again.
“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.”
“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.”
“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up.
“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.”
“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.”
Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.”
Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died five years ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail last year.”
“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.”
“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.”
“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.”
“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.”
“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.”
“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.”
“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says.
“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”
“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods.
Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him.
“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says.
“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks.
“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.”
And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him.
“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”
“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him.
“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?”
“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.”
“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.
“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?”
He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—”
“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.”
“What would I do without you?” he asks.
“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.”
“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up.
Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him.
Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze.
“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind.
“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.
“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”
And he does.
-
You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear.
Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale.
A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame.
Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner.
It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff.
Of course you have to deal with this now.
Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down.
“You’re already packed.”
You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.”
“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning.
“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask.
His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says.
“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.
“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks.
“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?”
His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.”
“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.”
Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit.
“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—”
“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”
“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him.
“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?”
“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head.
You take the box from him and smile thinly.
“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”
-
You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open.
You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.
“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, “I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”
His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”
“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.”
“They haven’t been back, have they?”
You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail.
Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”
“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests.
“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.”
He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops.
“Did you go to class today?”
“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff.
“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”
“Yes,�� he mocks. “I went to class.”
“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.”
His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”
You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”
“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit.
“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.”
“I agree with you,” he says.
“That’s it,” you muse.
Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up.
“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.”
“...Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.”
“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?”
You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”
“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”
“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”
You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to.
“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”
“I think? I was in jail, so.”
You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.”
“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says.
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”
He frowns. “What’d you say?”
“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.”
“What have they said about me?” he asks.
“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…”
You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.”
You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.”
“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.”
“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.”
“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.”
You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home.
“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”
Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up.
“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”
Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.”
“I’m sorry.”
The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before.
You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard.
Then, there’s nothing.
-
Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is.
The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at.
It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims.
If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger.
His hands tighten on the steering wheel.
“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”
“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters.
“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”
“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?
You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that.
It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him.
It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.
Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that.
Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”
“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?”
“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.”
“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.”
“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”
Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching.
“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”
“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”
“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”
“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up.
“What?”
“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I… I know how important this is to you.”
Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”
“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”
Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night.
And now…
Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not.
“Thank you, Garcia.”
“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?”
For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it.
“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.”
“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.”
“Thank you,” he says.
“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly.
Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him.
“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.”
His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words.
-
It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why.
You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes.
Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs.
Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?
Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—
“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops.
For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze.
“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.”
“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”
“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.”
Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.
You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body.
You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life.
And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now.
“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.”
He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.”
“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?”
“...You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.”
“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.”
“Family’s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.”
“I’ve always believed in you,” you say.
He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”
You shake your head. “That’s not true.”
“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.”
You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises.
“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”
You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother had divorced him by then, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided.
“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?”
“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!”
“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.”
“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”
“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.”
All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to.
Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly.
When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget.
Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out.
You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here.
You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now.
“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.”
“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.”
He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.”
He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.
“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”
Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.”
“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says.
“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”
“Put the gun down,” he repeats.
“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.”
“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.”
“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.”
“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?”
“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.”
He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you.
“Put the gun down,” another agent warns.
“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”
“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think.
“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?”
“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.”
Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave.
“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.”
“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.”
“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”
“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”
“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?”
“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.”
Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.”
“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.”
“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.”
“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.”
“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”
“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.”
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you.
“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.”
You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you.
And then it happens so quickly you barely process it.
There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground.
You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you.
Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him.
Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force.
Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead.
The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake.
Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”
“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”
A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms.
“I know.”
Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment.
“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.”
You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers.
But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron.
“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!”
You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours.
“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.
He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete.
“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.”
And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name.
It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die.
-
You wake up in the hospital alone.
You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you.
The real surprise is that you wake up at all.
Lucas is dead.
He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded.
You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real.
You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life.
You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day.
Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all.
You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life.
And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind.
He was going to kill you.
Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU.
Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner.
The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him.
“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you.
But there’s relief there, too.
He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside.
“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly.
Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.”
“And how long have I been here?”
“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.”
You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”
“How bad was it?” you ask.
Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…”
“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.”
He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.”
Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.
“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”
“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?”
Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”
Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start.
“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.”
“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.”
“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”
“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.”
You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!”
“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.”
“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—”
You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same.
“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper.
You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life.
“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.”
“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues.
“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”
He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number.
“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.”
You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner.
“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.”
“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”
For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…
Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together.
“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.”
“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.”
“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit.
“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.”
“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.”
Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.”
Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.
“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out.
“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume.
“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.
Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.
“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.”
Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down.
“Okay.”
And he stays.
This time, he stays.
#i was truly possessed while writing this i can't understand it#i wrote 15k words in 5 days#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch x reader#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner imagine#sadie writes
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i don't think i really understand pr and what actors should and shouldn't say. why is what oliver's saying so wild?
Hi, it's okay. I'll walk you through it. The tl;dr version is written in bold.
So. PR, or, Public Relations, is the dynamic between the general public (us) and any entity that has interests to protect (in this case, that would be the network + 911). PR teams are designed to ensure the relationship between the public and [their entity] is as harmonious as possible. Happy relationship, happy consumer, happy company.
Because keeping the peace is the intention of good pr, pleasant ambiguity is the name of the game. People can speculate, and people can guess, but no one should ever be able to look back at your words and claim that you've given a definitive answer on anything—good or bad—because definitive statements can harm the entity's bottom line, whatever that may be.
Oliver is very good at keeping the peace between the network and the public. We know this because we have seen evidence supporting this fact for years. He always says a little bit of what everyone wants to hear—he'll keep things vague (plausible deniability) for the sake of the network, while also giving nods of support and encouragement to the fandom without promising anything. You know how he's talked about being cautious and aware of what he's saying in interviews because he knows the impact it could have? Okay, well, aside from wanting to avoid "queerbaiting" allegations, this is part of the reason. PR is a very delicate game and he plays it very well.
Or at least he did.
Right now, Oliver is using binoculars to identify the line, making sure the line is exactly where he left it, and then taking a giant wrecking ball to it. Because now, Oliver is saying things that should absolutely not be said in interviews, or to anyone in the general public, at all. Now, he's elevating the conversation from pure speculation, to actively confirming and placing the blame at people's feet for things that have gone on behind the scenes.
Saying that Buck's Queer storyline was floated years ago? Huge no-no. Why? You were on tumblr yesterday. You can see why. People were angry, and people were hurt, but most importantly, people started to ask questions. We started to look at past arcs, past moments in Buck and in Buck and Eddie's relationship (because, whether you like it or not, Buck's queerness is and always has been tangentially linked to the existence of Buddie) to try and pinpoint when/how his queer arc could have launched. Now. Most of us have been here for years, so we can easily look back at the show and see where it's pretty damn obvious how Buck's Queer arc could have launched, depending on the arc(s), the characters at the time, things that were going on outside of the show (re: Oliver liking Buddie edits before/after the shooting), etc.
But we're not the only ones who are reading these interviews. Other people—casual fans, new fans, people who don't give a damn at all and are just clicking around on the internet—are going to look at these interviews, they're going to look at the things Oliver is saying, and they're going to have the same questions that we had. When could this have happened? And, more importantly, why didn't it? To keep it simple: everyone is going to start looking a little closer at the man behind the curtain, and the network does not want that.
Now, sure, it could be argued that, "hey, 911 isn't with FOX anymore, so maybe Oliver is allowed to say these things." But that's not really how it works. Sure, he might have a bit more leeway (as in, a microscopic, so-small-it-might-as-well-be-insignificant amount of leeway) to say whatever it is he wants, but this isn't the first time a major transfer/acquisition has occurred, and there are safeguards in place (such as NDA's—Non-Disclosure Agreements—which often do not expire for years post-acquisition, depending on the entity they're protecting) to prevent him from harming FOX's bottom line. So, that reasoning rings hollow. Especially because, now, it's not just FOX he's pulling into the fray either.
In the article that dropped today, he openly acknowledges this thing between Buck and Eddie in Season 7. And at this point, we're well into ABC's era. So the fact that he's saying, "I went to Tim and asked if there's something I can play with when Eddie says he's going on a date"—that's odd behavior from him. Not necessarily bad, just odd. And after years of toeing the line, the question that has to be asked now is why? And, more importantly, why now?
Does this mean that Buddie is going canon? Not necessarily (and, before anyone freaks out, I'm not saying it's not going canon either; I'm just saying this isn't an indication). But The Buddie Problem, at least, in the way Oliver is addressing it, is something the Higher Ups would want to keep quiet for as long as possible, for whatever reason. Maybe because they intend to go forward with it. Maybe because they don't. But the fact that he's cracking the shades open and letting light through is deeply fascinating.
But, despite all this, it's important, also, to realize that, even with demolishing the good PR line he's always walked so carefully, Oliver still isn't promising us anything. He's still treading carefully regarding how we, Buddie shippers, will interpret his words. He's not claiming Buddie canon is a go and it'd be remiss to think that's the implication here when it's not. He's not that stupid, and he's not that cruel. But all of it is very curious.
So that's why a lot of us are looking at each other, and then looking at Oliver, wondering what the hell he's doing. Because he knows better, and we know he knows better. We know he's very good at playing this delicate game but right now, he's making moves that are... intriguing... to say the least. And it's not just him, even though he's the main culprit. 9-1-1's move to ABC—and this entire press junket since 7x4—has been rife with sensitive information being released to the public, starting with Lou's untrained self revealing that it was supposed to be Eddie and Tommy that were going to get together, and circling back around to... literally every single word Oliver has uttered in the past three weeks.
So. It's odd! As you can see. So I'm sitting back, and I'm waiting and seeing because something is happening behind the scenes, and I don't know what it is (and I don't even think it's bad!) but it is still very much happening. So.
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La Cosa Nostra- pt 11
cowritten with @schemmentis
Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10.
Summary: Melissa's pissed with recent news, the Feds are back at it, and you go to a place and person to find some comfort.
WC: ~2.05k
At this news, Melissa quickly slips into the seat on the other side of Dom's table. “Are ya crazy? I told you they've already torn this place to shreds, and you want to bring the money in through here?” She hisses as she leans more into the middle of the table. “Listen, losin’ the salon is already bad enough. You know what it did to Y/N when you took her off it.”
“That didn't come from me, Mel. I just had to deliver the message. You know that.”
“I don't care who it came from. You knew, and you did it just the same. Now you have the coglioni to sit here and say we should run it through here. I already ain't gonna forget the slightin’ of my wife, youse know that- the lot of you. You wanna tell me I gotta run this shit through my restaurant? Then tell me. Don't act like this is some proposition, Dominic. Tell me what to do, and I'll handle it. ‘Cause you and I both know how this shit works, but I am tellin’ you,” Melissa points an index finger at the man across from her sternly. “Right here, right now, I am tellin’ you; this fucks up my restaurant and youse all are gonna have a much bigger problem than the fuckin’ Feds, capisce?”
Dominic's face remains neutral, though there is an amused glint to his eyes as his palm shifts along the head of his cane. He nods quickly and respectfully to Melissa. “We want things to go well even more than you do, kid.” He says softly.
Melissa leans back in chair, arms crossing over her chest. She raises an eyebrow, silently urging him to say what he needs to say.
“We'll work out the details on our end. You only have to make sure you're here when the money comes through. Simple as that.” Dom says. He sighs when Melissa still merely stares at him expectantly. “Sí, sí. We're telling you this is how it's gonna work from now on. Clear out a spot in the office in the back. Nobody else needs to know it's anythin’ different than a regular shipment comin’ once in a while. None of it happens if you ain't here. This is big, Lissa. They're trustin’ you.”
“Like they trusted my wife?” Melissa spits out as she pushes herself out of the chair. “Texts only. They call and wake up my girls while they’re sleepin’, I'll take one of my bats to their kneecaps.” She adds on her way past Dom in his seat to storm back toward the kitchen.
You raise a brow as you watch your wife storm into the back and Dominic starts to slowly make his way out. You grab one of the other servers milling about, silently asking them to keep an eye on your girls while you go check on the redhead.
When you get into the back, she’s slamming her fist into the linoleum counter where they prep the food. Her hand is already bruising, and you take her fist gently into your own.
“My love,” you whisper as you hold her hand in yours.
“Let me go,” she hisses.
You shake your head, refuting her request. “You’re hurting yourself. You know I can’t let you do that.”
“I don’t give a shit,” she grumbles as she starts to curl her other hand into a fist. You grab the other one before she can even think about causing damage to that hand.
“Melissa.”
“They’re usin’ the restaurant as their new front,” your wife tells you quietly. “Said that it’s what we have to do, and they trust me… that we’re in the clear because the feds saw how busy we are and that we bring the girls around here, so it has to be safe.”
“I’m not letting you do this,” you tell her. “And I’m not letting them put the girls in danger.”
“We don’t got an option, Y/N. I told Dom I would handle it,” Melissa sighs as she leans against you. “And I will. You just… take care of the girls. No matter what happens.”
“Melissa, don’t talk like that- like you’re gonna die.”
“I’m just being realistic. You did the same when they were using the salon,” your wife says softly. “We both knew that if something happened, I’d have to keep the girls safe. But now, it’s on me, and I know that you’d do the same if something were to happen. We don’t have a choice.”
“Fuck,” you whisper again. “Shit.”
“Get… get the girls out of here, and tell them that I’ll be home late tonight,” your wife runs a hand over her face. “I have to make it work here.”
“No,” you say softly. “I’ll… I’ll get someone to come pick them up so I can help you.”
“Y/N,” Melissa grits out. “Go. I can handle this.”
You give her a look, one that tells her she doesn’t have to do this- that you’ll handle it. You don’t want to have her be the one in danger.
But she just shakes her head and insists you get the girls out of here- just in case Dom did give the two of you up, and he’s setting you up for failure. The girls cannot watch their mother(s) go down.
You cradle her face in your hands, kissing her a few times. “No more punchin’ things, hey? Can't have you bustin’ up those pretty fingers more than you already do.” You whisper. “I'll take care of the girls. You do what you gotta do.” When she nods, just a little, you kiss her one more time before finally turning away.
You gather your girls with a thank you to the server watching them for you.
“Mam! We have to wait for Mommy!” Cat is insisting as you walk with both your girls out the front door.
“Auntie Val needs Mommy's help tonight, sweetheart. So, we're gonna go home and make sure everything is cleaned up and nice for her, okay?” You speak to your girls though you're glancing around the parking lot on the way to your car.
You take note of Dom's car pulling out but don't see any cars with sirens or lights careening into the lot afterward. You carefully buckle your girls into the backseat. When you're shutting the back door after making sure they're both safe, you look around again on the walk around to the drivers side. There's nothing different or out of the ordinary. No sign of agents or officers. Which means Dom has only done exactly as he said he did.
You slip into the driver's seat, throwing your seatbelt on. You swallow as you carefully pull out of the spot and towards home. Dom telling the truth is maybe worse than if he had flipped. They're really putting this on Melissa and Twelve Tables. Part of you despises it. The amount of risk it puts on your wife. You know it intimately. The other part, the part that grew up in all this and doesn't know anything else, that part is proud as hell. It isn't anything to turn your nose up at to be entrusted with the process of mafia money. It speaks volumes. Volumes that equally excite and terrify you.
Danik and Shaw are back at the precinct, contemplating everything that Dominic told them- that you and your wife had nothing to do with the murder of Bobby. He told them that even if you did have something against the man, you could never do anything- you rescue wasps because you don’t have the heart to kill them despite the fact that your wife is always screaming at you to kill the damned demons. They go over the fact that you bring your twins into your restaurant, you take the girls to church with you, you always are on time to get the girls to and from school. If you were a part of the mafia and mob that dealt with things pertaining to ordering hits and murder, you wouldn’t be such dutiful mothers.
But they also know that you never brought the girls into the salon- they’ve only ever seen the two girls with you at the restaurant. And that is a bit suspicious in their eyes. So, they plan to head back to the salon the following day.
When they get there, you aren’t there- which is unusual. You’re almost always there, and they know that. Instead, Tony is out on the floor with the other stylists. But you are nowhere to be seen; your car isn’t even in the lot. And it isn’t in the lot because you’re somewhere else.
You’re sitting in the sanctuary of your church. After dropping the girls off at school and leaving your wife to her restaurant turned mafia front, you go to the one place where you can find some sort of solitude- because even now your home reminds you of everything happening in your world.
There’s no service today, so you find yourself sitting in the back pew by yourself, looking up at the ceiling. You’re speaking silently to whatever God is out there to please spare your family from all of the heartache that you can only imagine is in your inevitable future. Finally, you bow your head, and you begin to weep silently.
You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel someone slide into the pew next to you and wrap an arm around your shoulder. Your eyes pop open in surprise, and when you look next to you, Barbara is sitting there.
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t ask why you’re here and not at the salon or at the restaurant. She doesn’t mention that she knows what the two of you do outside of your legal businesses. No- she sits in complete and utter silence as she holds you gently. And you can’t do anything about it. You can’t explain why you’re here in a puddle of your own tears, not without giving away what she already knows to be true. So you don’t say anything. You just continue to cry out your fears and worries over everything while clinging to the shawl that Barbara has draped over her shoulders. And when you pull away, you let out an ugly, choked out laugh.
“You probably think I’m crazy.”
“Crazy? For coming to the one safe little corner of the earth where you can feel anything and do anything and not be judged for it?” the woman asks you. She shakes her head silently. She takes your hand in her own, and together the two of you pray. You don’t realize that she is praying for the same thing that you are, but she is. The two of you silently pray that you’ll somehow get yourself out of this mess- that your family will be able to return to some sort of normalcy- or better yet turn a new leaf and start a new life where there is no mafia or mob, no illegal businesses that put everyone in harm’s way.
And when you lift your head, hers is still bowed for a few seconds before she lifts it with a quiet, “Thank you, God.” And then, as if nothing happened, she pats your hands gently with her own and goes on her way.
You take a few deep breaths once Barb is gone. Carefully trying to get yourself together. You wipe at your cheeks and eyes, focusing on the distant altar at the pulpit. You sit in the last pew, breathing deep and slow. Staring at the large depiction of Jesus on the cross behind the altar. Slowly, you feel the serenity you were hoping to. You don't know that praying will do anything, actually change anything, but it's at least felt like getting it off your chest. In a way that doesn't jeopardize your family or anyone else. You suddenly understand Barbara's devout faith. You can't say that will ever be you but you get it. You make the sign of the cross over your head and chest as you finally rise from the pew and slowly make your way out of the quiet church.
TAGS (and let me know if you want to be added!): @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld
#abbott elementary#abbott elementary fanfiction#abbott elementary fanfic#mel#melissa schemmenti fanfiction#melissa schemmenti fanfic#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti
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Hey boo!
I've been obsessing over this song and I feel like you would be able to create an amazing smut piece from it.
I would, of course, love it to be Hook or Ricky, but any wrestler could work.
Main Masterlist ♡ Wrestlers Masterlist ♡ Hook Masterlist
LIKE YOU MEAN IT (18+)
Hook x f/Reader
Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.
Warnings: Smut under the cut. P in V. Unprotected sex. Outdoor sex
Gifs and photos do not belong to me: 1st gif @junglehooks
Requested by @wwenhlimagines . I hope you like it.
Tyler - Hook
Red wine and roses
Sugar-coated
Your carousel spin me round
Round, round, round
The two of us were sitting on the balcony of our hotel room. Looking up at the night sky, we could see the stars clearly out here tonight.
It was a perfect night. The moon was shining down on us, and I swear I saw a shooting star, but that could have been just my imagination as her pussy was squeezing my cock just perfect way.
My hands gripped her hips as she leisurely moved up and down atop of me. Her hands gripped my shoulders to steady herself.
We both know we
Don't want us, oh we
Inside, we're screaming so loud
Loud, loud, loud
I am biting the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning loudly, not wanting to alert anyone who may be out here, looking up at the night sky.
I didn't want them to see her, how I should only see her, but she was making it hard for me to stay quiet.
"Come here." Was all I said as I placed my hand at the nape of her neck and brought her lips to mine for a heated kiss.
The two of us moaning into the kiss, finally being able to make some type of noise.
When the horns start playing, and you can't stop shaking
The bloodlust runs to your cheeks
Then your mind starts racing, and your bones start aching
It's time to let him know what you need
"Tyler, I need you." She whimpered against my lips as she pulled back, her pace slowing down even more.
"I'm right here, baby." I told her as I sat up and started to kiss and bite her neck, working my day to her chest.
"Please." Was all she said.
"I got you, baby."I pulled my cock out of her, I flipped us over so her back was now on the lounger. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I wrapped her legs around my waist.
Fuck me like you mean it (like you mean it)
Make me believe it (me believe it)
Walk the wire, it's alright
I gripped my cock and slapped it against her pussy, making her shiver. She knows what is going to happen. "Be quiet for me, baby, and I'll reward you."
She didn't have time to cover her mouth as I slammed into her, fucking her hard and fast.
She was biting by shoulder, trying to keep quiet, and I swear she broke skin, but I didn't care.
Not with the way her whole body was gripping me oh so tightly.
Love me like you need it (like you need it)
'Cause I can feel it (I can feel it)
Take it higher, show me why
I fucked her all over this balcony, just not caring anymore if we got caught. I fucked her through each orgasm I was able to pull from her body.
I knew she was getting tired, as she slumped over the table, but never once said the safe word.
She wanted me to fuck her until she passes out or says our safe word.
Keep my composure
I think it's over
Her cherry lips knock me down
Down, down, down
We are now on the lounger once more, her atop of me as I fuck up into her. Our bodies were sweaty, but I just need a couple more minutes. I am so close. So very fucking close.
Take it slower
Getting closer
But then, she lets out a sound
Sound, sound, sound
But then, it was like a dam burst inside of her. She cried out my name loudly. It seemed to echo in my ears.
Her body went stiff, as her pussy squeezed my cock for the final time tonight.
She collapsed against me, just as I groaned her name, trusting sloppily into her as I came.
The two of us hold onto one another as we catch our breaths.
I bring my lips to hers and gently kiss her, and she tiredly kisses me back.
Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @faerieofthenightcourt @tahiri-veyla @crowleysqueenofhell
#aew#all elite wrestling#reader imagine#reader insert#female reader#hook aew#hook imagine#hook smut#hook fic#hook fanfiction#hook x reader#hook x y/n#hook x you#hook x female reader#hook x f/Reader#wrestler x reader#wrestler x female reader#wrestler x f/Reader#wrestler smut#wrestler imagine
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‼️NIGHTBRINGER HDD CH. 3 SPOILERS‼️
masterlist | events | ch. 2 | ch. 4
mc stop being the most important person ever: challenge impossible
damn is this how the boys acted before they got to the devildom the first time ??? i see why they love mc so much, especially lucifer. family is the most important thing to him, it's why he acts the way he does and it's why the celestial war happened in the first place. being clouded with this much tension as a family had to have been extremely emotionally strenuous for him, aside from the frustration that comes from rowdy younger siblings
and it was obviously just as bad for his little brothers. they couldnt understand why lucifer was pulling away from them so much. and caused trouble to get any kind of attention from him, to keep him from holing himself up in his room and drowning himself in paperwork
it probably especially hurt mammon to see lucifer like this. his big brother who wants afraid of anything suddenly afraid of addressing his own feelings and fears of his family falling apart
i would like to let it be known that i was not AT ALL being serious when i picked the "can't we talk it out" option...why are we talking to a clump of glass petals ??
why am i even questioning anything that happens in this game anymore ????
BYE THIS IS SO UNSERIOUS i love it here. not obey me pulling a spiderman no way home and acting like i wouldn't catch on
and mc asking "can't we just gang up on the bitch" has to be the FUNNIEST thing ever i love them 🫶🏽 just like me fr
mammon would literally never say that. not those words at least. he respects and looks up to lucifer way too much to that. and satan wouldn't say that. the old satan would say what mammon said if we're being honest...and the new him would find a more respectful and less snippy way to say it while still getting his point across
every almost negative vision is really just lucifer's nightmare. not having the love or care or mutual respect that families are built upon is like nit having a family at all. we already know how luci feels about family. like i get that it's supposed to be funny but when you think about it in context with the game's events, this is actually really sad ???
this is also SEVERELY ooc. like i'm not crazy right ??? mammon does not use his powers like that for something as petty as a lackluster insult, and satan would come up with a much better insult than that
all jokes aside, i couldn't ever see the boys acting like this. ever. under any circumstance. even early on in the 1st game, it wasn't this bad. they butted heads and were emotionally constipated, but they still acted like brothers
i feel like the flower is showing them the worst versions of themselves, not just the way things would be without mc. bc things were relatively ok without them before. they werent the best, but they survived and didn't kill each other for millenia before mc came into the picture
fighting back the urge to go on yet another big brother mammon tangent...fighting hard
...no way they used the power of friendship to fix the situation AGAIN
now i didn't trust or particularly care for raphael in the og game, but that's mainly bc of the way he was talked about by the characters well before his appearance and the fact that he seemed standoffish. i like this raphael, and i want more
but depending on where we are in the timeline and which timeline we're in, this could be michael
oh they big mad
satan being angry is a no brainer
but beel? he's the textbook definition of a gentle giant. a himbo if you will. he goes out of his way to be gentle with everyone and everything that comes his way because he knows his strength and how easy it is for him to overuse it on accident
baby don't play when it comes to his family. just like his big brothers
#obey me#obey me nightbringer#obey me spoilers#obey me nightbringer spoilers#nightbringer spoilers#obey me hdd 2024#happy devil day 2024#obey me lucifer#lucifer obey me#obey me mammon#mammon obey me#obey me levi#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me asmodeus#obey me beel#obey me bezebub#obey me belphie#obey me belphegor#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me mc#satan obey me#obey me michael#obey me raphael#beel obey me#beelzebub obey me
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Maggie, Maggie
#1 Do not take my theories to Neil! None of them, nohow!
#2 Big fat spoiler, which I suppose I should have said on my previous theories, but hey. Big fat spoiler!
Here we go, I think I know something new.
I've seen a few blogs where people have suggested that Maggie is Jesus 2.0. I didn't think so at first, but now I do. Maggie is Jesus 2.0, and Crowley and Aziraphale damn well know it. Here's my evidence:
See this post about how I think Crowley and Aziraphale are hiding something. Hiding someONE? Yeah, I think so. Who the hell would they be hiding? Who would an angel and demon who averted Armageddon be hiding, especially if they are expecting a second go 'round? The BIG one, as Crowley says? Fucking Jesus, that's who. Okay. Now we're cooking with gas.
Maggie is clothing-coded as both a demon and an angel. Y'know, much like Adam is described in Good Omens the novel. "Part demon, part angel, all human."
Maggie is a bit of a goodie two-shoes. "Never was that sort of teenager, never wanted to drink, no judgment." Oh, yeah? A little better than other people, are you? Not in a hoity-toity way, just, a little better than others. A little.
Loved that record store since she was a baby, huh? How did she remember it since she was a baby? Much like Adam remembered the other two babies he was in the hospital with, as described in Good Omens the novel. "You never forget your first friends."
Maggie calls Aziraphale an angel. Not as if she knows, but as if she subconsciously knows. If she is Jesus 2.0, I don't think she's come into her powers yet.
Aziraphale expects her to be able to sense the archangels when they come to ask about Gabriel and the 25 Lazarii miracle. And the whole time he's asking her about the record, he's looking out the window very nervously, repeatedly. I've seen a few people note that a car horn sounds and he looks at it anxiously, and that does happen, but he is anxiously looking out the window the whole time. What is he watching for? In case someone notices him talking to Jesus, maybe? And when she doesn't understand what he's talking about with the archangels, he shrugs it off and refuses to explain, as if he has suddenly remembered that of course she won't be able to sense them, not yet, anyway.
The ball: Not only does she want to stay behind and help without knowing what's going on (very brave and generous), she invites the demons in by mistake, AND Aziraphale can't miracle her to go with Crowely and forget all about this. He tries in a bit of a panic, then gives up, as if he's remembering that oh yeah, he won't be able to miracle her, she's freaking Jesus.
That's why "miracles don't work like that." It's not that Aziraphale can't miracle people to fall in love, it's that he can't miracle Jesus. At all.
That light in her record store. You know, the one that looks EXACTLY LIKE ADAM'S LIGHT in the first season? You know, the one that I can't find a picture of right now. Because of course I can't.
The main reason Crowley and Aziraphale are so nervous about Gabriel showing up is because they are scared he is spying on them and will notice Jesus. The audience assumes Gabriel is scary enough on his own, and pay no attention to the fact that A/C are trying to keep him clear of noticing ANYTHING out of the ordinary.
Nina is Mary Magdeline.
The question that I do have is: What did Maggie do that had the same power as a 25 Lazarii miracle?? Because my entire theory revolves around Crowley and Aziraphale knowing -- or suspecting? Or searching for and being closer than even they know? -- that Maggie is Jesus, or will be; Saraqael being in on it; and them hiding whatever the BIG miracle was actually for and the audience assuming they are hiding the Gabriel miracle -- which they are not, although they are ALSO hiding the Gabriel miracle.
#good omens#good omens 2#good omens meta#good omens analysis#ineffable mystery#good omens fan theory#good omens maggie#maggie good omens#oh my god#no really#good omens spoilers#good omens season 2#go2#go2 spoilers
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Ruby: Not that I'm bored, but why can't we just use an airship to take these supplies out to Amity?
Penny: The components for Amity’s construction are far too heavy. All that weight would require precious dust we should be saving for the launch itself. And the Grimm that will come after.
Ruby: It just makes for a long, very long supply run.
Penny: At least the tundra is scenic.
Ruby: Totally.
Penny: Ruby! I just wanted to say how excited I am to be working with you in a professional capacity. As friends!
Ruby: Me too, Penny.
Penny: Relationships are so interesting. And varied.
Ruby: Speaking of friends. Have you been able to make any new ones? Since, you know...
Penny: Now that I’m the official protector of Mantle I don’t really have a team any more. General Ironwood says I don’t have time for friends.
Ruby: Oh uh… how do you feel about that?
Penny: I feel like I wish I could do both the things I need to do, and the things I want to do. Is that normal?
Ruby: That’s about as normal as it gets Penny.
Penny: Ruby...
Ruby: Penny.
Penny: You first.
Ruby: Uh, okay. I talked to Ozpin the other day. We talked about making you one of the maidens. My team and I discussed how you were probably built with that in mind. I just wanted to make sure it was okay with you, though.
Penny: I understand your worry, Ruby. But I am more than up for the task. Either spring or fall, I don't really mind.
Ruby: Well, okay if you're sure. What was it you were going to ask about?
Penny: I was going to ask how you were with your relationships, Ruby. You asked after mine after all. It seems like something a friend would do.
Ruby: Well what did you mean?
Penny: Well you have had a boyfriend now. What was that like?
Ruby: It was uh good.
Penny: I've never had a boyfriend of my own. I've never talked to the General about it, either. Or my father.
Ruby: I wasn't very good at talking to my family about it either. Romantic stuff that is. It took me forever to tell Yang and by the time I did… well I didn't so much as tell her so much as she caught us.
Penny: Caught you?
Ruby: We were just kissing. I mean, it was going places if I had my say in it but we were just kissing when she walked in on us. She found out that way.
Penny: Going places? Had you and Jaune been places before then?
Ruby: A handful of times.
Penny: Ruby! That was scandalous of you. What happened next?
Ruby: Yang pulled him off of me and slammed him into a wall.
Penny: So… he was on top of you, then. And your sister just ripped you apart.
Ruby: I'd been trying to wrap my legs around him but...And Jaune just sort of stood there looking dazed. It wasn't because of being slammed into the wall. He's fairly robust. He was just sort of out of it because we'd been kissing. I might be a good kisser. You could, like, see it.
Penny: Ruby! Do you mean… his…?
Ruby: Through the hem of his pants.
Penny: Was he… was he large?
Ruby: I think so. Not so much until he was inside. If that makes any kind of sense. Then it seemed like he was huge but in a good way. A really awesome feel good kind of way.
Penny: Ruby!
Qrow: Is everything alright up there!?
Ruby: We're fine!
Ruby: Penny are you… are you built, down there?
Penny: I'm designed to one day have children. If I so choose. With the right upgrades as pregnancy goes on. My father thought it was important.
Ruby: He told you?
Penny: Oh yes. He gave me the talk. He thought it was important that I have the freedom of expression that having children is. The eggs are from donors which were engineered. And I don't quite have a monthly cycle. But other than that things are roughly the same.
Ruby: You don't have a cycle? Brag about it, you queen.
Penny: Ruby!
Ruby: How roughly the same are we talking about here?
Penny: Ru -by ! The same enough.
#rwby#rwby incorrect quotes#jaune arc#ruby rose#lancaster#penny polendina#qrow branwen#motion sickness
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no one follows me from the 911 fandom so i feel mostly safe in whining to the abyss about this, so like i feel bad for not caring as much about buck's bi rep at face value... i can appreciate that buck - as a stereotypically masculine guy, who is for all intents and purposes the main character of a procedural prime time show - coming out as bi is a big deal, and i appreciated the set up with tommy. it was fun/fine. as a bi person, as someone who wants the world to get better - it makes me happy in an intellectual sense.
but for me, as a viewer of 911 the show - i don't really care. emotionally, in the context of the story it didn't do anything for me. tommy is (mostly) a random guy who showed up and buck realizes he's bi and now they're dating, but there's nothing to draw on earlier - and if it's a stepping stone, then i'll love it wholeheartedly in hindsight but if buddie doesn't happen - i just don't quite know how to feel other than like, detachedly glad we got a queer relationship for someone like buck.
and full disclosure, i wholeheartedly admit to being an eddie girlie, but even if eddie had gotten the storyline with tommy - i don't think i would've had a super strong reaction?
like yeah, i appreciate rep and of course it matters, but what would feel revolutionary for me is to take this relationship thats been implicitly on screen - to basically look at all these queer fans and be like, okay, yeah, you were right. all this subtext you've seen in a dozen other mlm ships over the years is valid. you aren't crazy and it's not gross or weird to make it REAL. you aren't rabid. (not counting the people who send weird hate to women actors just trying to do their jobs) and god - more than that, i'm just here for the fuckin STORY of it. tommy is fine. lou is lovely and i'm plenty interested to see where the buck and tommy train goes, but i don't have investment in it, not significant investment anyway, and i don't think i will? i mean, we're 7 seasons in. i can't get all in with tommy and buck at this point, i've been frothing at the mouth for another ship. and you brought me THIS close just to swerve at the last second.
so while i get that canonizing buck as bi is a big deal - it is always going to feel hollow for me personally because the story is what i'm here for. the relationship. the depth of it. and tbh i just want to see something beautiful and unintentional building in the background and have it fuckin happen for onceeee.
just sometimes i feel like i'm missing something, because i see the like... level of reaction some people have just to the bi-ness of it, and for me - if there's not a satisfying story, then, i don't have many emotions about it. i've gotten plenty of bi characters over the years, and very few of them felt fully actualized in the story being told around them.
#buddie#911#i don't wanna tag this as too many things bc i feel like ppl would hate it and#i'm not out here trying to ruin anyones good time#but also its kinda something i wonder if other people feel#or if i'm just weird#911 abc
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Fanfic about Poppy, Viva, and Velvet?
Great minds think alike! I had another friend request a little something between Poppy, Viva, and Velvet! @fairytypingg
Poppy and Viva friends with Velvet seems kinda out place, especially with Velvet's character being the way it is. But I think the little happiness that Poppy and Viva bring might be just the thing to help her.
We Got You
"IM FINE! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE VENEER!" Velvet marched into her suit, and shut the door.
"Vels!" Her brother attempted to run in after her, but the door was locked. He jiggled the knob, "Vels, please, talk to me."....Silence.
She had been on edge recently, well, not recently, more like when they got out of prison...actually...when they were in prison. Veneer had made every attempt to talk to her, to have her open up to him about things that were going, about their next steps together....but she's completely shut him out.
With a heavy sigh, Veneer retreated.
"The twins were set to call Vacay Island their home for the next couple of months. Bruce and Brandy have allowed them to work and live in one of the suits. Veneer enjoyed it, he felt like he was finally doing something right, something good. Velvet felt different. So many emotions were building inside of her, so many questions that needed answers.
What would happen to them when they were done with their community service? Where would they live? The Trolls didn't really care for them. She hated how Veneer was always after them, always seeking their approval. They were always judging them she knew, but they didn't know it, they didn't know anything.... Velvet noticed...It was the first thing she noticed: Veneer was sick again.
"Hey Vellie!"
Velvet rolled her eyes at the sound of an annoying little Troll...Poppy. She just ignored her, just like she always would. She continued to clean he tables at the resort.
"You know I'm going to get you to hang out with me and Viva! We're always looking to add another sister." The little Troll chimed.
"I don't want a sister." Velvet said coldly. Another annoying voice piped up next to Poppy.
"Uh, of course you do! Who wouldn't want a sister!" Viva exclaimed.
"I have a brother. I'm good. Now can you PLEASE leave me alone." Velvet's tone was flat. Poppy tilted her head as she took a good look at the Rageon....Sadness, worry, fatigue...That's what Poppy saw. Velvet was trying to hold everything together, Poppy knew there was something beneath the service that was really troubling her. She opened her mouth to say something...
"Hey guys!" Veneer came in holding a tray. He sported a dark blue vest with a black rolled up sleeve button up underneath. Black skinny pants were worn beneath his torso. "Guess whose the new waiter around here?" He did a full turn to show off his new look.
"Meow! Vels doesn't your brother look so handsome!" Viva chimed.
"Ugh." The Rageon rolled her eyes as she moved on to the next table. Veneer followed her hesitantly.
"You know, we get off at the same time. Oh! Let's go snorkling before it gets dark!" A smile spread across his face. Poppy looked at Velvet to study her response. The Rageon's expression was left unchanged.
"Seriously, you're asking again? " She replied without turning to look at him. "Go get the drinks to serve! Or you're fired." With a defeated look, Veneer retreated into the kitchen. Velvet could feel the eyes of the two small Trolls piercing her from behind.
"Why don't you ever want to hang out with him? Us, I guess I understand. But he's your brother. I'd give every chance to always be with Poppy." Viva explained. Velvet remained silent. Viva turned to her sister, hoping for some support.
"Velvet, is something else going on? I don't mean to always pry, but I always hear Veneer trying to open up to you...You just seem to...always shut him out. You know you....you can talk to me...You can talk to Viva! Girl to girl." Poppy tried her best to express her feelings of concern for the Rageon. One thing she learned about being queen, was how to read people, how to know when someone was sad, afraid, holding back.
"What goes on with me is none of your business. I just want to do my time and get out of here..."
CRASH!
The three girls turned their heads towards the sound of breaking glass coming from the kitchen. Velvet was the first to run in: Veneer was on the floor, struggling to get up, broken glass all around him.
"Vennie!" Viva attempted to go to his aid.
"Stay away!" Velvet was the first to his side.
"My bad!" He attempted a smile. "I-I slipped." Liar, Velvet mused. She could see the weakness in his arms and legs, how they went limp, how he struggled to find his strength to stand.
"Don't lie to me, Ven." She demanded. Her brother fell silent as she struggled to help him to his feet...his legs continuing to give out.
"How can we help you? Vellie, please tell us what to do." Poppy begged.
"YOU CAN LEAVE US ALONE!" Velvet screamed. She latched one of Veneer's arm over her should, struggling, she began to lead him away towards their suit.
"Vels!" Viva called out after her. But the Rageon ignored any kindness and any help that was thrown her way. A feeling fell at the pit of Viva's stomach as she watched the twins march off. "Poppy, I can't help but feel that something is wrong...Something is terribly wrong."
"I know Viv....me too." Poppy stretched and reached for Viva's hand.
Poppy and Viva continued to replay that moment in the kitchen throughout the rest of the day. They couldn't think right, couldn't eat. Velvet was always tough in the surface, but something told them, deep down, there was a little girl crying for help, crying for an answer to all their problems.
How would they know? Because they were that little girl at one point. Viva leading the group of surviving Trolls after the Bergen attack, living 20 years thinking she had lost her family. And Poppy...She made it seem like being queen was all cupcakes and rainbows, but she learned that it wasn't, but she knew her kingdom couldn't see her weak...she had to always be strong no matter what she felt. They wanted to tell Velvet that it was okay to be vulnerable sometimes...but how could they? She'd always close them off.
Poppy was headed off to the rooms of the resort that were specifically for Trolls. She had a warm tea in hand to help her calm her nerves and thoughts. That's when Viva came running down the hall.
"Poppy! Hurry come here!"
Without a second thought, Poppy dropped her tea and followed her sister.
Viva lead her outside the door of a suit. Inside, they could hear the sobs, the small little cries. Poppy held her hand over her mouth as her heart broke.
"Who is it?" She asked.
"I....I saw Vellie walk out of her suit. I followed her hoping she'd want to talk. She walked in here...That's when I heard the cries." Viva responded with saddened eyes. The Troll sisters took a moment before making up their mind. Nodding to each other, they pushed open the door that was luckily left slightly open.
The cries grow louder as they walked inside the suit. All lights were off, the only thing illuminating the room was the moonlight shining through the window. The girls followed the sound....That's when they found Velvet hunched in a corner.
She held her knees tight, her face buried in them. Her shoulders shuddered with every cry she made...
"Vels." Poppy whispered as she made her way to the Rageon.
"Go away..." Velvet said in between her cries.
"No! That's enough of you trying to push us away!" Viva said sternly. She made her way up to Velvet's knees, placing a small hand on her fingers. "Talk to us. Please."
"We want to be your friend Velvet. We've wanted to be your friend since you guys arrived to us." Poppy explained.
"I don't want friends."
"Maybe you think so now....but you DO need people who care for you. You have your brother, and we want to be there for you too." Viva said.
Upon the mention of Veneer, Velvet's cries grew severe. Poppy and Viva enclosed around her, laying their hands on her, embracing her as much as they could.
"Velvet....please." Poppy pleaded once more as she embrace the Rageon in her small arms. They allowed silence to pass between them, they allowed Velvet to just be vulnerable....to cry. This was something she had held in for so long...
"He's sick." Velvet finally spoke. "Veneer is sick again....and I don't have the money to help him." The Trolls looked at each other, a horrified expression in their eyes...This is what she had been hiding for so long.
"...I wish you had said something sooner." Viva exclaimed as she continued to hug her.
"Why? There's nothing you can do."
"How do you know? Vellie, you only know your little world, the world inside Rageous. You have no idea how big the world is....and you have no idea how many options there can be to help your brother." Poppy joined Viva on Velvet's knees, together they lifted the Rageons head so she could look at them. "We care for Vennie as much as you do....We want to help you."
"Please, Vellie. We know how it feels like. We know how it feel's to try and have it together! You don't have to go through this alone. Let us be there for you. We got you." Viva added.
Through teary eyes, Velvet glanced back and forth between the two sisters...There was no lie in their voices. She could see they were looking at her not with pity, but with genuine concern. Velvet really never allowed for anyone to see her vulnerable...especially her brother. She always wanted to be the tough one, the strong one...but maybe with these girls she could be. Velvet hugged her knees tighter...
"....okay...." She said softly. No more words were exchanged, no more words needed to be exchanged. Viva and Poppy drew closer to Velvet, this time hugging her face, hoping that she could feel their love and care for her.
They had her.
#trolls band together#dreamworks trolls#trolls 3#velvet and veneer#trolls veneer#veneer#velvet trolls#velvet#fandom#velvet and veneer trolls#trolls viva#trolls poppy#queen poppy#trolls 3 veneer#trolls 3 velvet#veneer trolls#trolls velvet#trolls fanfic#fanfic writing#fanfics#fanfic#fanfiction#answered asks
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hi.
you're on a rock floating in space.
pretty cool, huh?
some of it's water.
fuck it, actually most of it's water.
i can't even get from here to there without buying a boat.
it's sad.
i'm sad.
i miss you.
how did this happen?
a long time ago, actually never, and also now, nothing is nowhere.
when?
never.
makes sense, right?
like i said, it didn't happen.
nothing was never anywhere.
that's why it's been everywhere.
it's been so everywhere you don't need a where.
you don't even need a when.
that's how every it gets.
forget this.
i wanna be something.
go somewhere.
do something.
i want things to change.
i want to invent time and space.
and i know it's possible because everything is here and it probably already happened.
i just don't know when to start.
and that's exactly where it started.
whoah, i paused it.
i think there's a universe now.
what's it made of?
quarks & stuff
ah, that's a thing.
in a place.
don't like it?
try a new place.
at a different time™.
try to stick together, because the world is gonna get bigger.
and emptier.
but it's not empty yet.
it's still very full, and about a kjghpillion degrees.
great news!
the quarks are now happily married, in groups of three called a proton or a neutron
and there's something else flying around too that wants to join in but can't cause it's still too
HOT
great news!
the protons and neutrons are now happily married to each other.
and some of them even doubled up.
great news, the electrons have now joined in
congratulations, the world is now a bunch of gas in space.
but it's getting closer together.
and it's getting closer together.
and it's getting closer toge-
it's a star
new shit just got made!
some stars burn out and die.
bigger stars burn out and die with passion, and make some brand new, way crazier shit.
space dust
which allows newer, more interesting stars to be made, and then die, and explode into
even crazier space dust
so now stars have cool stuff around them, like rocks, ice, and funny clouds, which can make some very interesting things.
like this ball of flaming rocks for example.
holy shit, we just got hit with another ball of flaming rocks.
and it kind of made a mess.
which is
now the moon
weather update:
it's raining rocks from outer space.
weather update:
those rocks might have had water inside them, and now there's hot steam in the sky.
weather update:
cooler temperatures today, and the floor is no longer lava.
weather update:
it's raining.
severe flooding alert:
the entire world is now an ocean.
volcano alert:
that's land!
there's life in the ocean
what?
something's alive in the ocean
oh cool, like a plant or an animal?
no, a microscopic speck.
it lives at the bottom of the ocean and eats chemical soup, which is being served hot and fresh, made from gnarly space ingredients left over from when it was raining rocks or whatever.
oh yeah, and it can do that.
it has secret instructions written inside itself telling it how to build another one of itself.
so that's pretty nifty, i would say.
tired of living at the bottom of the ocean?
now you can eat sunlight!
using a revolutionary technique, you can convert sunlight into food
taste the sun
side effect: now there's oxygen everywhere and the sky's blue.
then the earth might have been a snowball for a while, maybe even a couple of times.
it's a sponge.
it's a plant.
it's a worm, and some other types of weird strange water bugs and strange fish.
it's the Cambrian explosion
"wow, that's animals and stuff"
but we're still in the ocean, hey, can we go on land?
no
why?
the sun is a deadly lazer
oh okay.
not anymore, there's a blanket
now the animals can go on land.
come on, animals, let's go on land!
nope, can't walk yet.
and there's no food yet, so i don't care.
ok, will you learn to walk if there's plants up here?
maybe, said some bugs, and fish.
ok, so i can go on land, but i have to go back in the water to
have babies
learn to use an egg.
i was already doing that.
use a stronger egg.
put water in it.
have a baby, on land, in an egg.
water is in the egg.
baby, in the egg, in the water, in the egg.
works for me.
bye bye ocean
and now everything's huge.
including bugs.
wanna see a map of the land?
sure.
oh fuck, now everything's dead.
just kidding, here are the survivors.
keep your eye on this one because it's about to become the dinosaurs.
here's another map of the land.
yeah, it broke apart, don't worry about it, it does that all the time.
here comes a meteor.
and the dinosaurs are gone
it's mammal time, here come the mammals.
look at those breasts.
now they're gonna dominate the world and one of them just learned how to grab stuff.
and walk.
no, like, walk like that.
and grab stuff at the same time.
and bang rocks together to make pointed rocks.
"ouch"
and set things on fire.
"yeouch"
and make crazy sounds with their voice.
"gneurshk"
which can mean different things.
that's a human person
and now they're everywhere.
almost.
ice age
what, you can walk over here?
cool.
not anymore
well i guess we're stuck here now.
let's review.
there's people on the planet.
and they're chasing their food.
fuck it, time to plant some grass.
look at this.
i control the food now.
now everyone will want to be my friend and live near me.
let's all build houses except mine is bigger because i own the food.
this is great, i wonder if anyone else is doing this.
tired of using rocks for everything?
use metal.
it's underground.
better farming was just invented, in a sweet dank valley right in between these two rivers.
and the animals are helping.
guess what happens next
more food.
and more people who came to buy the food.
now you need people to help make the food and keep track of the sales.
and now you need houses for people to live in and people to make the houses, and now there's more people and they invent things, which makes things better and more people come and there's more farming and more people to make more things for more people and now there's business, money, writing, laws, power.
Society
coming soon to a dank river valley near you.
meanwhile, out in the middle of nowhere, the horse is probably being tamed.
why is all my metal so lame and lumpy?
tired of using lame, sad metal?
introducing
Bronze
made with special ingredient tin from the far lands of tin land.
i don't know, my dealer won't tell me where he gets it.
also, guess what?
egypt
meanwhile, out in the middle of nowhere, they figured out how to put wheels on a horse.
now we're getting somewhere.
also
china
and did i mention
indus river valley civilization
norte chico
the middle east is getting more complicated, maybe because it's in the middle of the east.
knock knock, er, clop clop.
it's the people with the horses.
and they made an empire.
and then everyone else copied their horses.
greeks
ah look, it must be the greeks, er, a beta version of the greeks.
let's check in with the indus river valley civilization.
they're gone.
guess who's not gone?
china
new arrivals in india, maybe it's those horse people i was talking about, or their cousins or something
and they wrote some hymns and mantras and stuff
you could make a religion out of this.
there's the bronze age collapse.
now the phoenicians can get down to business
also, can we switch to a metal that's a little easier to find?
thanks.
look who came back to israel, it's the twelve tribes of israel.
and they believe in God
just 1 though, he's got like a ten step program.
here's some huge heads.
must be the olmecs.
the phoenicians make some colonies.
the greeks copy their idea and make some colonies.
the phoenicians made a colony so big it makes colonies.
here comes the assyrian empire.
never mind, it's the babylonian- median-
it's the Persian Empire
"wow, that's big"
ah, the buddha was just enlightened.
who's the buddha?
this guy, who sat under a tree for so long that he figured out how to ignore the fact that we're all dying.
you could make a religion out of this.
oops, china just broke, but while it was breaking, confucius was figuring out how to have good morals.
ah, the greeks just had the idea of thinking about stuff.
and right over here, alexander just had the idea of conquering the entire persian empire.
it's a great idea.
he was great.
and now he's dead.
hopefully the rest of the gang will be able to share the empire evenly between them.
knock knock, it's chandragupta, he says get the hell out of here.
will you get the hell out of here if i give you 500 elephants?
ok thanks, bye
time to conquer all of india
or
most of india
but what about this part?
that's the tamil kings, no one conquers the tamil kings.
who are the tamil kings?
merchants, probably
and they've got spices
who would like to buy the spices?
me, said the arabians, swiftly buying it and selling it to the rest of the world.
hey, china put itself back together again, with good morals as their main philosophy.
actually, they have three main philosophies.
out here, the horse nomads run wild and free, and they would like to ransack your city.
let's check the greekification levels of the greekified kingdoms.
greekification overload!
bye, said the parthians.
bye, said the jews.
hi, said the parthians, taking over the entire place.
heyyyyyyyy, said the romans, eating the entire mediterranean for breakfast.
thanks for invading our homeland, said the jews, who were starting to get tired of people invading their homeland.
hi, everything's great, said some guy who seems to be getting very popular and is then arrested and killed for being too popular, which only makes him more popular.
you could make a religion out of this.
want silk?
now you can buy it from china.
they just made a
brand new road to the world
or you can
get there on water
sick! new trade routes! said india, accidentally spreading their religion to the entire southeast.
hmm, that's a good place for an epic trading kingdom.
there goes buddhism traveling up the silk road.
i wonder if it'll reach china before it collapses again.
remember the persian empire?
yep, said the persians, making a new one.
axum is getting so powerful they would like to build a long stick.
has anyone populated madagascar yet?
let's do it together.
china is whole again
then it broke again
still can't cross the sahara desert?
try camels.
hell yeah! now we've got business
said the ghana empire, selling lots of gold, and slaves
hi, i live in the roman empire, and i was wondering
is loving jesus legal yet?
no.
actually, ok, sure, said constantine, moving the capital way over here to be closer to his
main rival
don't worry about rome, it won't fall.
it's the golden age of india
there's the gupta empire, not chandragupta, just gupta.
first name chandra.
the first.
guess who's in rome?
barbarians
what's a barbarian?
non-romans, said the romans, being invaded by non-romans.
r.i.p., roman empire, er, actually just half of it, the other half is just fine, but it's not in rome anymore so let's give it a new name.
the mayans have figured out the stars
oh and here's a huge city, population: everyone
the göktürks have taken over the entire eurasian steppe.
great job, göktürks.
how's india?
broken.
how's china?
back together
how's those trading kingdoms?
bigger, and there's more of them
korea has 3 kingdoms.
japan has a kingdom, it's the sunrise kingdom.
deep in the arabian desert, on the top of a mountain, the real god whispers in muhammed's ear.
so he goes down to the cube where everyone worships gods and he tells them their gods are all fake.
and everyone got so mad at him that he had to leave town and go to a different town.
you could make a religion out of this.
and maybe conquer the world as well.
the roman empire is long gone, but somehow the pope is still the pope.
plus there's
new kingdoms all over europe
i wonder if there's room for moors.
here's all the wisdom.
in a house.
it's the baghdad house of wisdom.
just in time for the
islamic golden age
let's bring stuff to the coast and sell it, and become the swahili on the swahili coast, said the swahili on the swahili coast.
remember this tiny space you have to go through to get from here to there?
someone owns that now.
wanna get enlightened in the middle of nowhere?
the franks have the biggest kingdom in europe, and the pope is so proud that he invites the king over for christmas.
surprise! you're the new roman emperor, said the pope, pretending to still be part of the roman empire.
then the franks broke their kingdom into what will later be called france and not france.
but the northerners, or just norse if you don't have much time, are exploring.
they go north, from the north to the northern north.
and they find some land.
two types of land.
and they name them accordingly.
they also invade some other places, and get called many names, such as vikings.
there's the rus.
the kievan rus.
are they vikings?
i don't think so, said the kievan rus.
ok, fair enough.
the pope is ready to make some more emperors.
of the "roman empire".
the holy roman empire.
it's actually germany but don't worry about it.
new kingdoms.
christianize all the kingdoms
which brand would you like?
mine's better.
mine's better.
mine's better.
time to conquer england, said william.
it's a bird, it's a plane
it's the seljuk turks
aah! said the byzantine empire who's getting so small and almost doesn't exist anymore.
we need help!
they need help, so they call the pope.
hey pope, can you help us get rid of the seljuks?
maybe take back the holy land on the way?
come on, i know you want to take back the holy land.
yes, i do actually want to do that.
let's do a crusade.
crusade
they did many crusades, some of which almost didn't fail.
but at least the italians got some sweet trade deals.
goodbye mayans.
hello toltecs
goodbye toltecs.
hello mississippi
look at those mounds.
there's the pueblo.
i always wondered how to build a town in a cliff.
guess who's here?
khmer.
where?
here.
and pagan is there.
vietnam unconquered itself, korea just became itself, and japan is so addicted to art that the military might have to take over the government.
china just invented bombs, and typing.
and the mongols just invaded most of the universe.
nice going, Genghis!
i bet that will last a long time.
some of the islamic turks were unaffected by the mongol invasions because they were busy invading india.
is it tonga time?
i think it's tonga time.
i just found out where the swahili gets all their gold.
look at this chad.
means "lake".
there's an empire there.
right in the middle of
Africa
the king of mali is so rich he's going on tour to let everyone know.
wow, that guy's rich, everyone said.
the christians are doing a great job reconquering iberia, which will soon be called spain and not spain.
please remain christian.
we will check in later to see if you're still christian when you least expect.
whoops, half of europe just died.
ming
china's back, yay!
hey khmer, time to share.
new kingdoms here and there.
oh, look who controls all the islands.
it's the mahajapit.
majahapit.
mapajahit.
mahapajit.
mapajahit.
majapahit?
oh, italy's really rich, time for them to care a lot about art and the ancient classics.
it's kinda like a rebirth.
here's a printer.
let's make books.
so you think you can conquer the byzantine empire?
yep, said the ottoman turks.
nice job, ottoman turks.
whoops, you missed a spot.
don't forget to ban europe from the indian spice trade.
what? that's bullshit, said portugal, spiceless.
well i guess we'll have to find another way to india
wait! said christopher columbus, probably smoking crack.
if the world is round, let's go this way to india.
nah, don't worry, we already got this, said portugal.
so chris goes to spain.
hey spain, wanna hire me to find india by going around back of the world?
no.
please?
no.
please?
no.
please?
ok.
so he sails into the ocean.
and discovers more ocean.
and then discovers the indies.
and japan.
let's draw a line to decide who gets which half of the world.
the aztec and inca empires are off to a great start.
i wonder if they know that europe just discovered their continent?
the habsburgs are marrying into so many royal families they might have to start marrying each other.
move over lithuania, here comes moscow.
ivan wants to make russia great again.
move over timurids, maybe go invade india or something.
persia just made persia persian again.
let's make it the other kind of islam.
the one where we thought the first guy should have been the other guy.
hey christians!
do you sin?
now you can buy your way out of hell.
that's bullshit.
this whole thing is bullshit.
that's a scam.
fuck the church.
here's 95 reasons why, said martin luther, in his new book, which might have accidentally started the protestant reformation.
you know what would be magnificent, said suleiman, wearing an onion hat?
what if the ottoman empire was really big?
which it is now.
what if russia was big? said ivan, trying not to be terrible.
portugal had a dream that they controlled the entire indian ocean, including the spice trade.
and then that dream was real.
and spain realized that this is not india, but they pillaged it anyway.
damn, said england and france.
we gotta start pillaging some stuff.
then the dutch revolt and all the hipsters move to amsterdam.
damn, said amsterdam.
we gotta start pillaging some stuff.
question 1: can you get to india through north america?
no, but at least there's beaver.
question 2: steal the spice trade.
that's not a question, but the dutch did it anyway.
sugar
guess where all the sugar's made?
in brazil.
stolen
and the caribbean.
and it's so god damn profitable you might forget to not do slavery.
the next thing on russia's to-do list is to get bigger.
britain and france are having a friendly discussion about who should control the entire world.
more specifically, ohio.
then it escalates into a seven year discussion, giving prussia a chance to show austria who's boss.
but what about britain and france, did they figure out who's boss?
yes they did.
it's britain.
guess who's broke?
also britain.
so they start taxing the hell out of america.
fuck you, says america, declaring their independence, and fighting for it.
and france helps them win, now france is broke.
and britain'll have to send their prisoners to a different continent.
wait, if france is broke, why do the king and queen still wear such fancy dresses?
let's overthrow the palace and cut all their heads off! said robespierre, cutting everybody's head off until someone eventually got mad and cut his head off.
you could make a reli- no, don't.
haiti is staring to like the idea of a revolution.
especially the slaves, who free themselves by killing their masters.
why didn't we think of this before?
wait, who's in charge of france now?
me
said napoleon, trying to take over europe.
luckily, they banished him to an island.
but he came back
luckily, they banished him to another island.
there goes latin america, becoming independent in the latin american wars of independence.
britain just figured out how to turn steam into power.
so now they can make
many different types of machines and factories with machines in them so they can make a lot of products real fast
then they invent some trains.
and conquer india and maybe put some trains there.
hey, china! said britain.
buy stuff from us!
nah dude, we already got everything, says china.
so britain tried to get them addicted to opium.
which worked, actually.
but then china made it illegal and dumped it all into the sea.
so britain threw a hissy fit, and made them open up five cities and give them an island.
britain and russia are playing a game where they try to stop each other from conquering afghanistan.
also, the
sultan of oman lives in zanzibar now
"that's just where he lives"
india just had a revolution, and they would like to govern themselves now.
nope, said britain, governing them even harder than before.
technology is about to go crazy
the united states finally figured out whether slavery is good or bad.
it's bad, they decided.
and then they continued manifesting their destiny, which is to kill the rest of the natives and take their land and maybe kick out the mexicans too.
i know, let's rape africa, said europe, scrambling to see who could rape it the fastest.
they never got ethiopia
britain and france are still hungry.
they never got thailand
the united states ran out of destiny to manifest, so they're looking for more.
hawaii
cuba
wait, spain controls cuba.
well, blame something on them and go to war!
what should we blame on spain?
let's blame the maine on spain.
so they blame the maine on spain.
now we're in business.
to celebrate, they kick panama out of panama and make a canal, connecting the two oceans.
britain just found oil in the middle east.
it makes cars go
china is so tired of being bossed around that they delete their old government and make a new, stronger government, which is accidentally weaker and controlled by a guy from the previous government.
europe hasn't had a war since the last war.
so they start world war 1.
look at those guns.
it's gonna be a great war.
so great we won't need a second one.
after it's over, they blame germany.
russia went on strike and the workers overthrew the government.
now everyone's paycheck is the same.
communism
in the soviet union
the arabs revolt and britain helps.
now the ottoman empire's gone so we can give the
jewish people a place to live
hopefully the arabs won't mind.
let's cut the cake, said sykes and picot, carving up the remains of the not-so-ottoman-anymore empire.
except turkey, turkey makes a brand new turkey
and then the saudis conquer arabia.
it just seemed like the right thing to do.
hello?
yes, it's the 1920's calling.
let's get in the car and drive to a party and listen to jazz on the radio and go to the movies.
the economy's great and it'll probably be great forever, just kidding.
germany's back, featuring hitler, the angry mustache model.
and he's mad at the jews for existing.
japan is finally conquering the east, and they're so excited they rape nanking way too hard.
they should probably just deny it.
hitler's out of control.
so the international community tackles him and then tries to explain why killing all the jews is a bad idea.
but he kills himself before they could explain it to him.
that's world war 2
bonus round!
pacific showdown.
united states vs. japan.
fight!
finish him
let's unite all the nations and have some
world peace
seems legit.
hi, i'm gandhi, and if britain doesn't get the hell out of india, i'm gonna starve myself in public.
wow, that worked?
bonus, now there's pakistan.
actually two pakistans.
one of them can be bangladesh later.
the jews and the arabs finally figured out which one of them should live in the holy land.
me, they both said at the same time.
let's divide up the land so everyone's happy.
sike, they both get angrier
look out china, there's a new china in china.
what's on the menu?
communism!
no thanks, said the other china, escaping to an island.
i wonder which one is the real china?
there's the korean war, korea versus korea.
nobody wins, then it's on pause forever.
let's meet the sponsors.
oh, it's the two global superpowers.
they're having a friendly debate over which economic system is good, and which one is an evil virus of Satan.
and they both have atom bombs.
fight!
wait, no, that would be the end of the world.
let's just keep it cool and spy on each other instead.
and make sure we have enough atom bombs.
i'll race you to space.
now let's make some more countries fight themselves.
europe is tired of pillaging other continents, so the continents they were pillaging are tired of being pillaged.
so here's a new map, with new countries.
now you can't tell who they're being pillaged by.
the united states finally decided whether racism is good or bad.
they decided it's bad, and the world agrees.
south africa might need another minute to think about it.
let's check the world population.
whoa.
okay.
technology's better too, that might keep happening.
the soviet union decides to relax a little, and accidentally falls apart.
europe makes a union, so now they can all use the same money, except britain, because they don't feel like it.
let's check the mail.
surprise, it's on the computer.
whoops, someone just attacked america.
i bet they'll remember that.
phone call.
surprise, it's in your pocket.
wanna learn everything?
surprise, it's on the computer.
now your phone's a computer, which is in your pocket.
whoops, the economy just crashed.
don't worry, the big banks won't fail because they're not supposed to.
surprise!
flying robots.
with bombs.
wanna print a brain?
some people have no friends.
some people have no food.
the globe is warming
and the ocean is full of plastic
let's save the planet! said everybody, not knowing how.
let's invent a thing inventor, said the thing inventor inventor, after being invented by a thing inventor.
that's pretty cool.
by the way, where the hell are we?
#Bill Wurtz#history of the entire world#i guess#thanks letterbox for this#and thanks random person who commented the entire script of history of the world i guess#honestly i just wanted to put it somewhere so i dont lose it
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6 months in...
Have a teen Cassandra, Devin and Charlie.
Today makes 6 months since I've been posting, and about a year that I've been playing with my rotational save. I'm so happy to finally have people to talk to about my sims so this post, much like my 3 months post, is here to say THANK YOU
Thank you first and foremost for caring about what I have to share into the void. I really didn't think my little stories would gain any followers beyond the people I migrated here from Spoutible with. After all they're sims living simple-ish lives, making their families with less drama than the average story on here. And no tidying up filters or edits. Somehow you welcomed them into your dash and I'm extremely grateful. Thank you for every single like you give. For those that comment, thanks for the chats. For those that want to comment, I promise not to be scary. For those that don't want to comment or don't have time, guess what? I still appreciate you being on this journey with me!
On behalf of my sims, thank you for accepting them. Thank you for understanding they fall all over the map. They have different body builds, genders, romantic attractions, sexual attractions, woohoo drives, are neurotypical and neurodiverse as well as having different moralities (I have an evil sim and a good sim now? Can't remember if they've ever talked but they certainly know of each other). I'm trying to add in more ethnic/cultural diversity where I can but with long lifespans it can take a while.
Between you and me one of my biggest tumblr fears is getting to part 3 of a household only for someone to comment "These ones are so boring, get back to blah blah blah", but... that hasn't happened? Somehow I've been extremely lucky and landed in the part of tumblr where none of you post mean or rude things on my posts. For this I am incredibly thankful.
Thank you for accepting me being me, and everything that entails. Including days where my IBS keeps me from being overly literate. All the cute cats I have no choice but to reblog. Understanding I have no idea how to play tag properly. Not cutting me off for an excessive love of puns and shoving song lyrics into tags. For including me with the boops, virtual flower bouquets, and asks where I can't seem to give a short answer.
Thanks to you for not minding me commenting on your posts. Extra thanks for reblogging the content and stories you enjoy to broaden my horizons.
So until later today (or your tomorrow) when I introduce which household we'll be heading next I decided to do something different. I have on my external harddrive screenshots from when I decided to start writing alongside my sims gameplay. There was some weird happenings way back when so have a flashback or three.
What's that? A couple of you have followed me in the past three months and haven't seen my cat? Let me remedy that! Here she is with one of her two favourite blankets.
EDIT: I'm super nauseous today and will probably be off tumblr while my IBS settles and I have to take her *points above* to the vet because her arthritis meds have her off her food and I want to make sure we're doing what we can to keep up her food intake because she's a delicate 12 year old lady.
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Fallen {Chapter Twenty Eight}
Alastor x (Fem)Reader
Warning: Kidnapping, Violence (Vox hits reader), Threats Of Dismemberment/Torture (nothing actually happens tho)
A groan left me as the world finally came back into view, maybe a bit too fast, I shut my eyes tightly and tried to fight off the nausea I felt. I inhaled deeply a few times before slowly opening my eyes again.
I was somewhere I didn't recognize, it looked like a empty room. Nothing but a door ahead of me, and a small window on the wall to my right. It was the only thing lighting the room.
I tried to move, but was quickly stopped by a slight tug. I furrow my brows and look up, my arms had been raised above my head, and my wrists tied together by cuffs, held up by chains that were securely tied to the hooks in the ceiling.
I gasped sharply, it was muffled however, by the rag tied against my mouth. I tried my wings next, but the joints were cuffed as well, preventing me from flapping them.
My breathing became forced and erratic as panic finally set in fully. I tugged harshly at the chains, trying to free myself, but it was of no use.
My legs felt weak as well, I tried to move them, but they were about as useful as my arms, despite not being tied down.
What the fuck was happening!? Where was I!?
Suddenly the door to the room opened, and in walked a familiar looking overlord. "You awake?" He asked before flipping the light switch on. "Good...Now we can get to know each other." He approaches me and crouches to my level.
"I know we've met before. But I think we should start over, we're gonna be seeing a lot of each other from now on so..." He chuckles darkly.
"The name's Vox, nice to meet you."
"Aw, don't look so scared." Vox said with false pity. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Not yet anyway." He smirks. "I'm just gonna keep you here until your little boyfriend shows up. That asshole has been screwing around with me for too long. It's about time I put an end to that radio fucker, and you, are just what I need to do it."
I furrow my brows, I was worried of course and no doubt scared for my own safety. But now I was angry too.
"Wanna say something?" Vox tilts his head, he reaches for the rag at my mouth and pulls it down. "Go ahead then."
"You think just because you kidnapped me, that Alastor won't tear you apart?" I ask. "You underestimate him, if you believe that." Vox laughs at my words. "If he doesn't want you loosing a few limbs, he will come here and behave. If he doesn't, well, that'll be one thorn out of my side."
"Don't you dare hurt him. I don't care what happens to me, you can do whatever you want, but do not hurt Alastor." I say, tugging at the chains slightly.
"Oh, I don't need anything from you. Though, my associate might. I'm sure you've heard of him, and I'm sure you know how popular his films are." He could only mean Valentino. Oh god...I would rather die...
"You won't get away with this. Alastor will come here and rip you limb from limb. And telling from this kidnapping act, you like to play cheap. I bet that's why you're doing this. You can't match up to Alastor."
Vox delivered a harsh slap to my face after that. I failed to hold back a yelp as my head was forced to the side from the blow. I could feel the sharp sting blossoming in my cheek.
"Keep talking shit, and I won't be so forgiving next time." He stood up fully and looked out of the window. "I tried to get that dumbass hell hound to bring you here. But I guess he fucked off somewhere."
Hell hound? Did he mean Liam? Liam was in on this? I guess that would explain why he was at the hotel in the first place.
"Anyhow! I feel like we should start moving things along now. I'm sure he's noticed you're gone, so, how about we give him an idea of where you are. Speed things up, you know?"
"Let's see...maybe I could send him a finger or two? Or maybe one of those pretty eyes of yours?" He grins wickedly. I tried not to let my fear show, but it was clear by the shaking of my hands and shoulders. Vox's eyes trailed down. "That'll do."
I follow his gaze, my eyes falling upon my necklace. I gasp and try to move away as he reached down. "No! No, stay away!" I yelled. "Relax, will ya? I'm just taking the necklace. What? Did he give it to you? How cute." He says bitterly before grabbing at it. "No!" I cry just as he ripped it from my neck.
And just like that, my true form was revealed...
"What...the fuck!?" Vox exclaims.
If I wasn't panicked before, I definitely was now. My true form, my angel wings on display for Vox to witness. This wasn't good. This was the absolute last things I wanted to happen. What would he do to me now that knows? I couldn't look at him, I kept my eyes glued to the floor as I drew ragged breaths.
Vox then began to laugh.
"Fucking really!?" He cackles. "Well no wonder he likes you so much! You're an angel! Oh that's priceless!"
Vox's laughter died down slowly. He crouched back down and grabbed my chin, jerking my head up to face him. "You are both so fucked..."
"Alastor!" Mimzy shouts, before dodging a person being thrown her way. "Damn it Alastor! Calm down, you're making a mess of things!" She calls up at the now titanic sized radio demon. Tendrils grown from his back, were the cause of the randomly tossed objects and unfortunate demons in the way.
This had been going on for several minutes. He was beyond frantic, beyond worried. He wasn't thinking clearly, he was far too distraught for that.
"Don't you tell me to calm down!" Alastor yelled back. "Y/nis missing!"
"Well you're not gonna find her all worked up like this! Get down here and use your head!" Mimzy demanded. Alastor knew she was right, though it didn't make him any less frazzled. He did as she said however, and returned to his normal form.
Now it was just them in the empty longue. Alastor did feel a little bad about causing such a commotion in Mimzy's lounge, of all places. He let his anger and worry get the best of him, and it controlled his every movement. Blinded him from what was going on around him.
He was so upset by this...and he was scared...
"Where could she be?" Alastor's voice cracked slightly. "She wouldn't have just left on her own..." Mimzy didn't like seeing Alastor like this. She was worried too, but she knew it was nowhere near what he felt. "Isn't there any way of contacting her?" She asks.
"You know I don't own a cell phone. She doesn't either..."
Mimzy narrowed her eyes. "Isn't she from the modern era? Why doesn't she have a phone? You know what, never mind. Let's just stay calm and focus alright? Is there any place she might go to that you know of?"
"Other than the hotel, no." Alastor answers. "Alright, let's start there." Just as Mimzy said that, her phone rang. She looks at it then to Alastor. "Speak of the devil." She answers it. "Hello?"
'Hey, Mimzy? Is Alastor with you?' It was Charlie on the other end. The two had exchanged numbers the last time Mimzy had visited the hotel, to see Alastor.
"He is." Mimzy tells her.
'Well, a package showed up for him here at the hotel. It's pretty weird looking...We didn't want to mess with it. But I think it's from VoxTek, which is why it's weird. Alastor isn't really tech savvy you know?'
Mimzy hold the phone away from her to speak to Alastor. "It's Charlie, she says you have a package at the hotel, from VoxTek."
The loud screech of a record skipping made Mimzy wince. Before she could get a word in, Alastor had sunken into the shadows and disappeared. She sighs before speaking into the phone again.
"He's on his way. A word of advice, when he shows up...stay out of his way."
Rage couldn't even begin to describe what Alastor felt the moment he opened that package. It was small, small enough to hold the necklace along with a few white feathers inside.
Vox knew...and now, Alastor wanted nothing more than to rip his soul apart, for even daring to lay his filthy hands on his beloved.
He should have known. Of course it was that bastard. Of course he would do something like this. Alastor swore right then and there, that he would invent a whole new form of pain, when he got his hands on that flat-faced motherfucker.
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3.109 My place in this world
Mama called and invited us over for dinner that night, so Sophia and I discussed whether we would share our news when she inevitably asked us about her grandchildren. We knew she could handle it, and would offer to help any way she could, but we decided to keep it to ourselves for the moment. I didn't enjoy keeping secrets from my mother, but letting the world in felt like defeat at this stage. Sophia had only just begun the treatments. She could be pregnant by tomorrow. It wasn't time to worry everyone, especially when they weren't suspicious yet.
But to both of our surprise, we got through the entire evening without one question or comment about babies. Not even Alessia, who was even nosier, said anything. Without a story to fabricate, we ate in a semblance of peace with our secret between us, hoping one day this would be a distant memory added as a footnote in our story.
Back at home, I caught Sophia sneaking out of the bathroom as I headed for bed. She froze like she got caught stealing when she spotted me, but then the disappointed took over. I sighed, not because I knew what she did in there, but because of her tenacity. I loved how she wouldn't give up despite how much it hurt. But I didn't want her to end every day disappointed if these treatments didn't work, so I grabbed her by the hand and led her into our room.
"It's okay, you know. Maybe it takes a while for it to take effect."
"Or maybe it won't work for me."
"Don't say that. It'll work. And even if it doesn't, it's not the end. We'll just move on to the next thing. Regardless of how it happens, very soon, we'll have our baby, and we'll be in our new house, and everything will be great."
She sighed, nodding in agreement, but I could tell she struggled to believe.
"Is it bad that I hope we don't have to adopt? Does that make me like my parents?"
"Not at all. I think everyone prefers their own blood. It's natural."
"It's just that... You have all these beautiful family ties. There's only me. I don't want my existence to be just a blip on the radar, here one day and gone the next, forgotten and unimportant. I want to leave a piece of me behind so my life matters!"
I couldn't hold it together anymore. The dam broke, and tears flooded my face. I hated how much those idiots who birthed and raised her affected her life. She arguably was the best sim to ever walk the earth; The star in my sky; The light in my darkness; The gummy bear in my pancakes! No one else mattered to me quite like she did.
"Sophia, you do matter! You matter to me! You matter to this family! My life has been a thousand times better because you're in it! And when we're finally able to hold our child, whether it's ours or not, you'll matter to him too! Her. Whoever! You're gonna love the hell out of them, and they'll think you're the best sim on earth. Right?"
She nodded through her tears.
"Yes. I love it so much already! I haven't even met it yet."
"Exactly. Don't worry. It'll happen."
#ISBI challenge#sims 4 story#sims 4 gameplay#adolting#adolting gen 3#luca winston murillo#sophia aguilar#emerald pope#alessia amina murillo#tw: infertility
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ILY FP 258
I can't believe we're actually passed episode 250 lmao I Love Yoo is truly the never ending story (affectionate). I appreciate how much of the story we really get to dig into at this pace and while I know a lot of people have long-since dropped it, I imagine the rest of us (those reading this post because why else are you here?) also appreciate it. And that's what is even more refreshing about this episode - if refreshing is even a word we can use to describe it. Getting the extra scenes from other characters, a look at their lives and from these glimpses, what we can glean in the unsaid between the lines.
Can you believe I used to prey on Kousuke's downfall? There's so many posts of me talking about him from a different view, believing that the only way he could grow and develop and make the changes necessary to make him a better person was for him to crash and burn, to fail so significantly that he would be forced to pen his eyes to reality. But here we are, me, fervently swaddling him up like a baby and shoving him into my pocket because GOD he needs to be protected.
I don't even remember when it was, that my view on him began to shift, when I went from "he's interesting but awful" to "GOD THIS IS MY SON AND I WILL FIGHT EVERYONE YOU HAVE TO GO THROUGH ME" but.... lol there's no going back!
That's enough rambling, let's jump in.
There is something so painfully devastating about every time ILY confirms to us something we have long-since known or suspected through nuance, foreshadowing, reading between the lines, etc: That Kousuke isn't Rand's biological son, that Shinae was at the formal for Gun Kim, that Kousuke has been manipulated his whole life. Nothing in this episode regarding Kousuke is actually new to us. We have known, and talked about, for months and months long before the confirmation reveal that Yui drugs Kousuke - that he has been manipulated by her his entire life, that she orchestrated his life to manipulate him into situations she could take advantage of. It's the way she spoke about Rand's affair around Kousuke, the way she commodified Rand's love so Kousuke became convinced he'd never earned his father's love, the way she spoke of their family vs others and convinced him from such a young age that everyone was out to get them, to destroy them, and that he couldn't let them get close, couldn't let them near - and how Nol was very much a target planted in his mind.
But it's the fact that he is speaking of this and acknowledging it! Until now, Kousuke has heavily lived in denial. Again, we know this. We talk a lot about the chasm between reality and the reality he believes in. We talk a lot about how Kousuke couldn't face reality, even though on some level he knew everything he believed and was told was not quite true not quite real, but that he was so afraid of the truth, he couldn't do it. Kousuke admitting that he's been driven by fear and envy explains everything about him, and why he could not accept the only unwavering unconditional love he was offered.
A few weeks ago I saw a video on instagram of this father talking about a conversation he had with his daughter, who was feeling a little uncomfortable with her friend group. A new girl started to play with her and her best friend and she said she wasn't exactly jealous, but that maybe it was that she was afraid that there wasn't enough love to go around. Her dad had to explain to her that love is not like a pizza - it's not finite, a limited amount that could be taken and hogged by someone else. But Kousuke never learned this. His father's love was commodified and he was made to fear this other kid who he mistakenly believed knew a version of his father he'd never been privy to. He never learned that love is finite, that Rand could have enough love for the both of them, and feared that Nol would hog it all - that he WAS hogging it all because whether or not it was good or bad, Nol received more attention that Kousuke did. And that speaks VOLUMES about how Kousuke sees Rand, what he thinks of their relationship. In his mind, he is still unworthy, that he's not noteworthy enough.
This part gets to me so badly. We, as omniscient readers, know that Rand has tried his best, but that Yui runs a spectacular interference with which he can't compete, largely because of the roles their family have placed them in - Rand the busy businessman, Yui the mommy homemaker. But no matter how hard he tries, it isn't good enough. Rand tries to reach Kousuke, but the manipulation and paranoia are so far gone that the times Rand does have the chance to convey his feelings, Kousuke can't even believe it, because he thinks he's not good enough to deserve that love, that he hasn't fully qualified for it yet. And despite that, Nol, who Kousuke feels hasn't done half of what he has to deserve Rand's love, gets the attention. It doesn't matter that it's negative attention, that Rand barks at Nol, that Nol feels Rand hates and regrets him, because ultimately, it's still more than Kousuke receives. And worse, to him, every time Rand is busy reprimanding Nol, he turns away from Kousuke to do it.
I want to make it clear that this is a deep trauma point of Kousuke's. He's never learned healthy love and the only person who gave him healthy love was someone he was set to fear and fight. Something I think about a lot is the flashback to Kousuke, in the bushes, watching Nessa and Nol's display of warm affection, before Yui appears literally looming before him. In that moment, he witnesses something he's been deprived of. "We're not like other families"'. He's told from a young age he shouldn't compare himself to those healthy families, to warm and affectionate relationships that he will not cultivate in this household. From such a young age it is normalized, that they aren't like others, that they are cold and distant. From a young age, he's made to stuff down his feelings, his tender wants and desires, in order to earn them. To be a good little boy who makes his parents proud. To make his father look his way.
There's also something about the way he says "I've been a good boy" that echoes Shinae learning she's been manipulated by Yui, devastated and angry and yelling about how she's been a good girl so why do these things keep happening to her, all she wanted to do was help her dad. Two people who, from a young age, felt they had to be so obedient, so good, to not be a burden, and despite following the rules, despite doing as they were told, despite trying to be whatever version of "good" they believed in, the world still beat them up and mistreated them. The world still punished them.
As Rin in our discord server pointed out, though, to some degree, Kousuke is very much a person who can - and does - act out, when he's emotionally high-strung. He's a volatile man, and it's largely to do with the fact that he's been drugged to placate him for so long. He never learned emotional regulation, he never learned how to deal with high-stress situations or to face conflict or to own up to things. This is something that some readers who hate Kousuke and expect him to act a certain way because of his age are missing. You don't just learn these things with age. You learn them with experience and Kousuke was deprived of the opportunity TO have those experiences. He never had to learn these behaviors, and now as an adult he cannot function when overwhelmed.
Idk this whole episode is just heartbreaking. It's devastating. I remember when I was someone praying on Kousuke's downfall and now I want to take it all back ;___; I always believed he had to crash and burn to be able to see the world for what it really was and to face his fears, but this is somehow so much worse.
And even though he's drunk, I don't think he's going to forget all of this in the morning. Rather, I think what he's voicing are things that have been plaguing him since waking up in the hospital. From that moment, we saw him wary and distrustful of his mother, we saw his concern for Nol rising above everything else, but grappling with the understanding that he doesn't deserve to stand in front of Nol anymore. These aren't epiphanies coming to him just because he's drunk; it's more like he's only voicing them because he's drunk. But even when he sobers up, he will probably still be haunted by these fears, these agonies, these truths, this understanding.
How does he face his mother after this? How does he face anyone? He may not even feel like he can trust Jayce - who while very kind to him, is still employed by his family. He may not even feel like he can trust Hansuke (though I really hope that's not the case).
He's so miserable and it genuinely hurts to have him lay it all out for us - everything we've known and suspected, like how it was so painfully clear he WANTED Nol's friendship, their brotherhood, but feared it, didn't believe that there was enough love to go around, that there could only be one of them and that even if it was for good or bad reasons, Nol cast him in the shadow. And all these years, watching as Nol, as Yeonggi, grew into this person who sounded so very much like this unknown version of their father, someone funny who makes others laugh, someone goofy, someone so boyish in the ways Kousuke was never allowed to be. Watching as he gathers friends, while Kousuke, so unlikeable, is wanted only for his money, for his status, for the clout.
He doesn't even know WHO HE IS! Questioning his own traits he's believed of himself, wondering if this is even him, if these parts of him are real or does he just act it, say it, pretend it, while trying to fulfill a role he was shoved into. That makes me feel SO deeply sad, because it's something I've been anticipating for so long: Kousuke wondering WHO he really is, how much of him is real and how much of it is the result of manipulation.
And that moment that he catches himself and says no no that's offensive and rude you can't be like that. ;AAA;
For him to admit how much he envies others, how much he craves the kind of connection others have, the kind of family others have, to feel that love and warmth that he's been deprived of, forced to endure this solitude because, as he believes, he didn't get the good parts of Rand. And what will happen when he learns that Rand isn't his father? That he never stood a chance to inherit any of those traits. Kousuke has operated on this belief that, if he tries hard enough, he can earn the things he craves, but I fear learning about his parenthood will make him think that no matter how hard he tried, he would never earn that, because none of it was ever him, could have gone to him.
I think this is where Shinae, in the future, will come in. I feel so very strongly that she will be someone who helps Kousuke to see that this isn't true, that these kinds of personality traits aren't something inherited, but rather something learned. For him to one day realize it's the paralyzing fear that holds him back, not his genetics. Of course, I acknowledge this will still take a lot of therapy but...
Something else very remarkable to me is the way Kousuke recognizes Shinae in Shinhye, because their eyes "feel the same" and he opens up to her - on some level, whether or not he is consciously aware of it, Kousuke knows, or maybe just wants to, that he can trust Shinae. That she is someone who is safe. He even knows how she feels about his mother. I don't think we'll see a lot of Kousuke and Shinae's friendship until we're passed our timeskips, but it makes me feel a little hopeful about it, that she'll be able to reach him, because she feels like someone who is safe. It's the way he sees Nol in her and wants to try to have that do over, a relationship with someone who has unconditional love for him. It's the way he knows he mistreated Nol, that it was wrong, that he took it all out on this kid he was so afraid of because he had no other outlet, and he wants to do better but knows that there's nothing to salvage anymore.
But also, it just makes me hope more and more that in the future we WILL see a reconciliation between the brothers. As I say every time, it doesn't mean they have to become brothers or friends, but I just want them to see each other fully. Kousuke knows what he did to Nol. He doesn't deny it, even if he might not say it out loud unless he's drunk. But Nol is still so in the dark. Yujing is trying to tip him off and make him aware of it, but I hope one day when Nol realizes it, when he finds out that Kousuke, too, was Yui's victim, that he wasn't the only one, that Kousuke was made to fear Nol's love, he might.... understand. I'm saying understand here loosely because I don't want people to get the idea that I mean Nol will forgive him and Kousuke will be justified, but rather that Nol would be able to understand why Kousuke felt that way, and move on. But I can't help but hope that it will lead to an understanding, a reconciliation, where maybe they can try to be in each other's lives.
I think it's also interesting that Shinhye was somewhat honest, even if she wasn't very forthcoming, with Kousuke about her own family. It sounds like her mother has been gone for a long time, that she's been on her own the whole while, and I think it reinforces the idea that she believes both that Simhan is her father and that he rejected her, that he didn't want anything to do with her. It lines up, too, with how she feels that he wouldn't react well if he saw her (although I think she credited that to looking like their mother). In the same way that Shinae has felt abandoned and cast aside by their mother, Shinhye probably thinks their father never tried reach out, to find them, to maintain a relationship with her. Or perhaps it's that her mother fed her lies about him, made her believe him a different type of man, made her believe there would never be anything of their relationship to salvage. And given that she's the one who Kousuke opened to, it makes me think that there must be some kind of parallel there; the way she mentioned her own mother feels like maybe her mother, too, was a manipulative - or at the very least, dishonest - person.
I don't speculate a lot on Shinhye because frankly I don't think I know enough about her to really try to talk about her, but I do think that it's very likely there's some kind of connection between Shinhye and the Hirahras or Gun. To be clear, I don't believe she's working with Yui at all. I think it's more like... Alyssa isn't the only girl who has been trafficked by Gun. What's the likelihood that Shinae and Shinhye's mother was? Given her history, the gambling addiction that was so egregious her reputation haunted Shinae and chased her to a new neighborhood and school, was she seeking money somewhere else, somewhere more dangerous? Is that part of why they had to change their name? There's so many questions left about them, and I look forward to learning more about her, but, much like with Alyssa, I think it will take time and be dropped in little tidbits like this - things to read into and try to glean something from.
And maybe we'll see more of this duo in the future? It would feel a little weird to give them this one single run in, but I'm not entirely sure. Quimchee likes to keep us on our toes. After all, Minhyuk and Shinhye have also had only the one run in. Still, I think it would be interesting to watch, if Shinhye ever felt.... I want to say maybe compelled? to dig in more to Kousuke, ever feel a kind of kinship. I don't think she'll open up to him at all, but rather, maybe she'd keep going back because a. he's wealthy and there's more she can nick from him (assuming he doesn't realize she stole anything while in his apartment, if he even remembers any of this) and b. wanting to gather more intel.
Like I said though, she's hard to read so I don't want to cling too hard to any ideas and, instead, sit back and enjoy the show.
#ILY Brainrot#ILY FP#ILY Spoilers#I Love Yoo#Kousuke Hirahara#Shinhye#idk what to tag her as because we know she isn't known as Shinhye anymore#and because Simhan and their mother never married AND she was from a previous relationship Yoo isn't even her family name#so I can't really use Shinhye Yoo lol#alas#anyway this episode was DEVASTATING and quimchee said it's the beginning of the sad episodes meant to happen in March#literally said 'It's all downhill from here'#which I take to mean til the timeskip#BUCKLE UP BABIES WE'RE GOING FOR A BIG CRY SESH ;______;#i gotta say tho this episode didn't even make me cry - i guess because none of this is new and I've been bracing myself for it#Kousuke is so fucking wet cat it agonizes me ;_____;#I could write a whole essay on how Yui destroyed him and Nol in one fell swoop#i think a lot about precocious little Kousuke who tried so hard to be a good little boy and rushed through school because he wanted so badl#to hurry up and catch up to his father and join him in the workplace#all the opportunities he lost#the way he tried to fit himself into a personality a person he never picked out but just believed would get him what he wanted#he lost himself in the process#or maybe he never even got to know himself#i think too a lot about Kousuke who played piano and gave it up when he came to believe it wasn't important to his dad#that it didn't garner the attention and praise he seeked#so he dropped it to better mold himself into someone he thought Rand WOULD be proud of#FUCKING DEVASTATED#I'M GOING TO JUMP OFF THE ROOF SOBS
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ideas: i didn't really think of him being underwater but they deserve to have drama by crying there too so i just think you could say something about the composition being denser than water or w/e. proteins
i'm always like good thing he didn't try to exit asap via swimming in ciao alberto But What If He Did lol. just swim Somewhere else along the coast, maybe panic about [money??] & whether somehow this ruins school for luca, whether he can get in touch w/o it being On Sight b/w him & all marcovaldos, consider just kind of trying out other places, traveling after all...fascinating considering the other povs on the issue like: now there's the paguros to sympathize w/a kid vanishing, luca however in a somewhat more novel position there, giulia's throwback to alberto being a bit perplexing lmao, kind of thinking the best massimo could do is have a prewritten letter for luca to give to alberto If Possible, conveying something like i know you didn't set my livelihood on fire on purpose but even if you did i'd want you to stay. and luca in a position to do all of "maybe give the island fun facts so someone can check if he's there" & "wait & hope alberto can/does get in touch" & "have a lot of feelings"....not even the context of what this drawing is about necessarily, just tacking it on here anyways. ahead of time i went "heh now i Know they're gonna have it get little Real here b/c it's really about alberto wanting the security of feeling he can 'earn' a sustained relationship" then the short cleared & i was lying completely dead on the pavement
#luca 2021#pixar luca#alberto scorfano#love when like ''yeah ofc you Could guess approx what would happen; b/c of The Themes & things following them''#but then like of course it still manages to Surprise. feels apt when like ppl doing some savvy media analysis can Guess along w/the film#like oh we're gonna fight here we might have our secret revealed here yep. then get caught off guard by alberto but 110% surprised by luca#even as ofc it all makes sense & is cohesive w/those Themes that have been unfolding; not just breaking w/the material to Surprise us#but still unpredictable. the whole movie being so vignettey (god bless. i live) allowing for a lot of that too like just Stuff Can Happen#someone can guess alberto's dad is not in the picture really but you could think oh he's been killed by humans. No lol...#or massimo lost an arm to sea monsters. but no. oh my god & this is how i realize i didn't draw alberto's arm scar hang on lol#okay there it is. here we go gays (me turning in for some rest at 8:15 am)#oh i read this picture book in the internet archive abt like A Parent Expressing Unconditional Love via conversation w/a child. hang on#''even if i did something awful'' by barbara shook hazen; i did think of it here. let me obtain a quote for effect...#[but what if i did something really truly awful?] [like what?] [like playing ball in the living room after you told me not to & breaking#the vase daddy gave you for your birthday even if i didn't mean to & it was an accident? would you still love me then?]#[i love you so much i'd love you if you Did mean to & it wasn't an accident. / but i might also be mad & yell things like 'i've told you a#thousand times!' & 'this is the last straw!' & 'i've had it with your disobeying!' & send you to your room with no dessert... / ...& cry a#little & pick up the pieces.] [i'll help.] [but i still love you no matter what; no matter how mad; no matter how awful. & i always will.]#so long as it's commitment to Actual support which; massimo already On That even before realizing like oh bereft And you're of the sea.....
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