#and he knows it but is so terrified of feeling

[willowser]

dynamight is clearly trying to go unnoticed in the grocery store, but you recognize him, anyway, despite the mask and low-pulled hat. knowing makes you feel even worse about approaching him—because you'd be too afraid to, otherwise—but you're not sure what else to do at this point.

you lean in close to him as he's standing in front of the produce, poking through the same bin.

"ooh, we need to get an onion, too, remember?"

he startles enough away from you that you can feel the foundation of your last ditch efforts crumbling. even beneath his hat, his light eyebrows pull down hard, gaze narrowing, and on the other end of such a fiery glare, you're reminded exactly why you've never wanted to meet him before: he's terrifying, handsome as he is.

"hah—"

you smile at him and hope it looks real, squishing into the space he's created even though your hands are shaking. "the guy by the juice followed me all around the store from the parking lot and i don't know what else to do." you widen your eyes, and you want to look, you do, but your facade is hanging on by a thread. "please help me."

dynamight swallows, and you hope his expression only seems so guarded because you're so close; enough to smell his subtle yet sharp cologne, to see the dark blonde wisps of his eyelashes. when he blinks, they brush against his mask, feather-light.

"okay," he nods once, and the gravel of his voice makes your stomach turn in some teenage way, that has your cheeks flaring.

(this is really not the time to be getting shy.)

he doesn't look towards the juice either, thankfully, and instead adjusts his stance, leaning into you in return, large and wide and formidable enough to nearly shield you from view. "an onion, huh? think we got one at home."

you can feel the warm press of his body against your own and it has you releasing a breath that had been trapped deep in your chest, has tears stinging behind your eyes. the sharp pain in your sternum lessens, and when you feel his hand come up to sit, carefully, against your lower back, dynamight murmurs,

"y'r alright,"

and you are.

#✿ thoughts: bakugou #wrote this in a flash i'm at work okay love you byeeee

[robotsandramblings]

sorry the quality isn't the best, but i wanted to torture myself with zoomed in shots of Crosshair's expressions while Omega is trying to convince him of her recapture/Tantiss plan. 🥺(S3 E11)

#crosshair #the bad batch #he looks horrified and terrified and like he's literally in pain #and i think he's trying desperately to poke holes in her plan even though he probably already knows it's their best shot #in hindsight it makes SO much sense #this poor man fears Tantiss like nothing else and now Omega wants to go back there. which also means he'll have to go back there and...god #no wonder he's freaking the fuck out #on her behalf and his own #star wars #R&Rgif #OUCH FEELS

[carmsgarms]

I just can't get Halsins confession scene out of my head. The way his voice is so quiet and soothing, the sound of the crickets in the background, his big eyes round and full of fear but he's pushing through it because tav is worth it.

He's travelled everywhere and seen things it would take lifetimes for other people to see but you - you helped him find himself again. A third (or more) of his life has been spent dealing with politics and curses, defending nature and currying favor with Silvanus to protect his childhood friend - you're the first person who truly gave him the freedom he wanted, you're the one who helps him find a purpose after *350 years* of wandering and dealing with other people's problems.

And he is *terrified* of fucking this up. Every word he speaks has been practiced carefully, recited, every angle considered, he is upfront, honest, and forward.

Halsin isn't a risk taker, he has a history of waiting for things to happen, biding his time until the right moment. It's how he wound up in captivity for 3 years, got captured by goblins (likely also planning on biding his time until the right opportunity) because he doesn't really feel time moving the way others do. What's a few months or years of captivity?

Until he meets you. You're a risk he's willing to take. He doesn't want to wait anymore. He wants to know now if he can dare ask for more. You have quite literally changed his life and turned it upside down, and for the first time in literal centuries, he can make choices for himself and this is the choice he wants to make.

He doesn't fall in love easily but he has fallen and he's fallen HARD

#hes just so 🥺 #halsin #bg3 #halsin thoughts #halsin analysis #halsinalysis

[gglitch1dd]

Anger and Misunderstandings Pt2 of 2

DILF Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Context: An anon had asked me what if we had Angry Dilf Izuku but one of his kids disrespected reader, like what happened with angry Dilf Katsuki. Sorry for losing your question Anon.

[PART 1 OF 2] [Midoriya Izuku Masterlist]

This was a very interesting one to write considering the fact that Izuku grew up with basically a single mother and we’ve never seen him seriously punish the boys..

Note: Disrespect, previous arguments, angst, effects of bullying and feeling left out. Happy ending.

"YOU SAID WHAT TO MOM AND DAD?!"

Asahi winced as he sighed. He put his head in his hands. "I know."

"No I think you DON'T know." Toshinori emphasised as he stood in front of his younger brother, Kane at his side, standing as a mediator with his hands in his pockets. The blond teenager was also surprised by the events that Asahi had just expressed. Toshinori sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "And this is why we need to start beating kids again." Kane let out a humoured scoff. "And you've been here how long?"

They sat in their grandmother's apartment, Inko having gone out to buy groceries. Asahi lifted his head up to look at his brother. "A week." He revealed. "Mom came to pick me up Sunday night but I told Obaasan that I wanted to stay with her for longer so she told mom she'd look after me."

Toshinori nodded. "Okay, that might be the smartest thing you did in the past three months." He answered. Toshinori put his hands together. "Forgive me brother, but I have to be blunt with you." He warned as he took a step forward closer to his brother. He took off his slipper and raised it. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING!?" He swatted his brother in the head with his slipper.

"OW!" Asahi raised his arms to protect himself from his antics.

"WHO THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE TALKING TO!? YOU SWORE AT MOM!? ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?! AND HOW THE HELL COULD YOU SAY THAT TO DAD!! FOR THE SMARTEST KID I KNOW YOU SURE DO STUPID THINGS! YOU DUFUS!" Toshinori shouted as he swatted his brother with his slipper hard.

"OW! CAN YOU CUT IT OUT!"

"DID YOU CUT IT OUT WHEN MOM ASKED YOU TO!? NO!" Toshinori shouted back at him with a pointed look. "IF MOM AND DAD WON'T BEAT YOUR ASS, I'LL DO IT FOR THEM!"

"OW! THAT'S NOT FAIR! YOU HAVE ONE FOR ALL, YOU CAN KILL ME YOU KNOW!"

Toshinori scoffed as he slapped his brother on the back side of the head. "Mom and dad won't mind! They can always just make another son!" He shouted.

Kane let it happen for a few seconds, feeling that it was rightfully deserved. You were the closest thing to a mother to him, and so rightfully so, he thought Asahi deserved a good beating, but maybe that was the Bakugou in him talking. "Alright Toshinori. The little shit gets the drift." He stated putting a hand to Toshinori's shoulder.

Toshinori huffed as he stopped his assault on his brother, putting down his slipper and slipping it back onto his foot. Asahi carefully lowered his arms, seeing that he was in the clear. He put back on his glasses with a frown at having to undergo such assault

Toshinori scowled down at his brother in disappointment. "What possessed you to speak to mom that way?" He asked lowly. "She does nothing but give her everything for us. She devouts her entire life to her sons and here you are treating her like trash." Asahi looked down away from his brother swallowing down the heavy pill as he fought back tears. "And I don't think you understand just how goddamn lucky you are."

Asahi paused as he flicked his gaze up to his seventeen year old brother. His eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"Asahi." Toshinori let out a breath. He tried to find the words for it. "I don't think you understand just how much dad loves mom." He tried to explain to his younger brother. "Now don't get me wrong, dad loves us to bits. He'd do anything for us. But dad is the terrifying ability to cut off all emotions when it comes to certain people and Uncle Kacchan and our grandfather were two of those people." He listed on two of his fingers, Kane nodding in agreement. "Dad arguably loves mom more than he loves us. Who can blame him? Dad has known mom for over two decades but he is just getting to know you and who you are becoming. Honestly, I expected a harsher punishment than just 'go stay at grandmas' but I think we both know that that's even more painful."

Asahi looked away from Toshinori not wanting to aknowledge it. Half of Asahi wished that you and his father had just done something, anything else, but send him away was another sort of pain he wasn't sure how to digest. That his dad couldn't bring himself to be around him for a day because of the things he said, it was a terrifying realisation.

Toshinori sighed as his shoulders dropped. "Now tell me why on earth did you disrespect mom." His younger brother didn't answer immediately. "Boy, I will pick up my slipper and-"

"Because it's not fair!" Asahi burst out.

Kane's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Huh, it worked." He let out surprised.

Toshinori's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What's not fair?"

"Life!" He shouted. "Do you know how it's like to be the youngest kid in your grade and be quirkless? People think I'm some weirdo at school!" He motioned to the side. "Kids don't want to be my friends and if they do, it's because I'm the Number One hero's son not because I'm me!" He motioned to himself as fat Midoriya tears fell from his eyes. "I hate it! I can never fit in no matter how hard I try! And it doesn't help that mom and dad are so fixated on you!"

His older brother raised his green eyebrows up in confusion. "On me?"

"Of course you!" Asahi shouted. "You're the eldest son of the Number One hero of Japan! You have dad's quirk! You are constantly praised and upheld as this miracle child and you're so much like dad it leaves me (and I'm not sure about the others) in your shadow!"

Toshinori paused before letting out a chuckle at how rich this was. he put a hand to his face. Asahi paused as he looked up at his brother in shock that he was laughing at him. "Oh you must be kidding, Asahi. I'm the eldest! I'm the experiment child! You don't want to be me."

"Of course I'd want to be you!"

"NO!" Toshinori now adamently denied with a pointed look. "No you don't. Asahi..." He took a moment chuckling to himself, deciding to be transparent here. "I don't think you understand, I have nothing, absolutely nothing other than One for All." He stressed, his face falling of all humour. "You think you want to be me? My entire existence was based off the fact that I was expected to take dad's place as the Number One hero. I'm lucky that I wanted to be a hero but that's also because I've got nothing! I'm not smart enough to get into a good university degree, I'm not passionate enough about anything else to work at it to be good enough to earn a living for myself. All I have is this passed on quirk and the entire legacy of our father resting on my shoulders."

Asahi froze as he looked at his older brother. Toshinori looked at him with glossy eyes but he didn't shed a tear, he just frowned as he looked at Asahi. Kane took a step forward and put a hand to Toshinori's shoulder.

It snapped the other teen out of his daze as he sniffed and straightened up his posture, he put a smile to his face, hiding whatever baggage he held over his head.

"But you..." He motioned over to Asahi. "Man, you should hear the way mom and dad talk about you. The way they praise you. Dad had to spend hours talking to deans in universities around this country to give you a shot and prove how smart you were and that he wasn't just trying to use his name to get you special privileges. Mom always tells her friends about how one day you're gonna do something extraordinary." Toshinori was being honest with his younger brother. "You are more like dad than I could ever be. If he had never been a hero, he probably would have been just like you. So smart and talented without needing to be a hero to prove his worth, which is what he hopes for you."

Toshinori let out a shaky breath as he chuckled.

"So how about you get off your sorry butt and we head back home and you apologise, hm? I'm sure mom would make a good katsudon too! Hopefully dad wouldn't eat it all by the time we-"

Toshinori stopped talking as he looked down at his younger brother who had his arms wrapped around him. Asahi had ditched his glasses and had buried his face in his chest. "Thanks Toshi." He let out lowly.

Toshinori scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "Okay, okay, no need to turn into a sappy piece of brocolli. I didn't do anything."

"He really didn't. He beat you more than he did anything productive." Kane expressed.

Toshinori glared at his best friend. "And why are you even here?"

Kane shrugged. "Just had to make sure you didn't kill your brother. As your mothers favourite son, I can't sit back and let that happen."

"Are you, as a Bakugou, really telling me that your my mom's favourite?"

Kane ignored ignored Toshinori as he looked down at Asahi. His crimson eyes were gentle despite the fact that he always seemed rather monotonous in expression. "Asahi, let me give you a piece of advice." He started. "As someone without a mother and a present father, you are very lucky." He expressed. "Truly. Don't take that for granted."

Toshinori and Asahi glanced at each other before looking at Kane. "Kane, do you need therapy or something?" Toshinori asked. "Like seriously, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Because I swear I've never seen you smile in more than three years."

"CAN WE FOCUS ON THE REASON WHY WE ARE HERE PLEASE?!"

You sat outside reading a book as Koda and Shoyo tried feeding the bunnies. Your two youngest sons, five and seven, were hand in hand as Shoyo tried to teach his younger brother how to do it. Your husband held you back against him as the both of you sat in the hanging cushioned seat. His eyes were closed as he held you against his chest, quiet.

You turned to look up at him, hickeys littered his neck. You kissed his jaw making his green eyes fluttered open. He looked down at you before giving you a gentle smile. He let out a hum as he tightened his arms around you and kissed your neck.

You ran a hand through his curls with a chuckle. "Tired, Mr Midoriya?" You asked him amusedly.

"Only if you go back upstairs with me." He gave the condition that made you giggle.

You gave him a look with a raised eyebrow. "Please." You let out in disbelief. "We have spent more than enough time in the bedroom today." You reminded him.

"Not nearly enough, in my opinion." You felt his lips move down to your own. You couldn't help but smile at the kiss, glad he was having a good time this fine evening as the sun began to set. You kissed him back.

"Mom! Dad!" You both turned to see Hero standing at the sliding door. "Look who's here!"

Stepping from behind Hero was your eldest son as well as his best friend. You smiled. "Toshinori! Kane! Hello boys." You waved at the two of them, not having seen them in person in the past few weeks. However, peaking out from behind was Asahi. Your eyebrows raised in surprise, not having heard from Inko to come and pick him up.

"HI MOM!" Toshinori waved over to you as he came down the steps of the patio to the garden. He walked over to you and bent down to kiss your head. "Evening dad."

"Hey kiddo." Izuku smiled, giving his son a fist bump. "How's school?"

"Fine. Uncle Shinso says hi by the way. Also, what's on your neck?" Toshinori's eyes went into a glare aimed at his father.

You giggled as you turned your attention to Kane. Kane stopped not too far away but his crimson eyes were on you. "Hello Kane." You stood up from where you were seated on top of Izuku.

"Evening, Aunty Y/N." He greeted you with a gentle smile.

You walked up to the now tall boy. Just like Toshinori, he was now taller than you and much bigger too. You put your hands to cup his face making him visibly ease. "Look at you, you're so tall now. How's training been?"

His gaze softened as he eased into your touch. "Just fine." He told you gently. The blond boy was like a son to you and you smiled, happy to know you could support him.

"Can you help me by bringing Shoyo and Koda inside? It's getting dark."

He nodded his head. "Of course, anything for you." He answered honestly, moving to go fetch your two youngest.

You smiled before turning to head back inside, ignoring Toshinori and Izuku's bickering about how much touch was too much, regarding you. You entered your house as you walked to the kitchen. You checked on dinner that was in the two ovens. The smell of lasagne wafted through your kitchen making you smile.

"Mom..." You paused as you turned around to where Asahi was. Fourteen year old son stood by the island counter, his eyes downcasted as he refused to look at you. You noticed that his hands were shaking as he stopped, keeping his distance away from you. "Mom I'm... I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean- I mean I did mean but I didn't intend to hurt you. I just... I hate school and it's been so rough for me and then there's you and dad and Toshinori and it's all just-"

This was the first time you saw your son so emotional. Sometime before the age of eight, Asahi turned rather analytical and fact based. You knew it was just his personality and whenever he did need to talk, he would come to you and talk, but now... now here he was, tears falling from his eyes as he tried to apologise to you.

"And I know dad won't forgive me and I don't blame him but please... please don't give up on me." He finished, closing his eyes.

You gave him a sad smile as you put down your oven mitts and walked over to your second eldest son. You carefully cupped his face in your hands making his eyes open to look at you. You wiped his big tears from his face as you looked down at him. "Asahi, if there's one thing about your father that I know, is that he has a very big heart. Families fight and argue, me and your father do it to, but if there's one things we don't do, is give up on each other. Sometimes we need space but we'll come back stronger. So it's okay." You whispered as you smiled down at him. You saw him try to fight back a sob but you just took off his glasses and pulled him into a hug. You pat his back the same way you used to when he was a baby and that was when the flood gates opened.

You silently chuckled. Midoriya's and their tears.

"Dad."

Izuku was still outside when everyone had gone inside to set the table and get ready for dinner. Izuku turned to look at Asahi. He turned back forward to look at the dark garden. The bunnies hopped into their rabbit house safe from the fears of outside. Angelica-Nina's daughter, just as fiesty as her mom, sat in his lap, her dark black ears with white tips were laying against her back as she loafed herself on Izuku's lap.

Asahi took a deep breath as he walked over to where his father sat on the steps of the patio. "Dad I..." He wasn't even sure where to start. His father's presence had never felt so imposing like now. He swallowed down hard, mustering up the courage. "I know I disappointed you and I'm sorry. What I did and said to you and mom was horrible. I just... it's been so hard at school. I don't have any friends there and I guess trying to fit in made me forget my values. I know that's not an excuse and I'm sorry. I really am. I... I can understand if you're angry at me and if you'd want me to continue staying at Obaasan's place, and Toshinori said I should prepare for a slipper to the head from you as well and-"

"Asahi." The sound of his name from his father made him stop.

Izuku motioned down next to him, tapping the space next to him. Asahi silently listened as he walked over to his father slowly. He sat down beside him. Izuku looked up at the sky and the few stars that sprinkled the sky since they were so close to the city.

Izuku drew in a breath. "I remember many years ago, when I was actually your age, I made my mother cry. And not out of worry or happiness." He revealed. Asahi stared up at him with wide eyes. "All my life until high school, I was quirkless. I was treated below the rejects and I had no friends in school after the age of seven. When I was fourteen a new phone had just came out that I wanted because everyone else was getting it.

The bullying seemed to only get worse considering the fact that I was not as well off as the other kids. So I asked your grandma if I could get that new phone. She said no, because we didn't have the money for it. She was a single mother that had to provide for her and her son. I got angry, mostly due to the fear of being left out. I shouted at her and screamed about how I just wanted to be like the other kids. I will never forget the look on my mother's face when I stopped speaking."

Asahi looked up at his dad seeing something in his eyes he rarely saw. Regret and anger turned at himself. Izuku was always close with his mother so the thought of him actually shouting at her seemed something so out of character of him. "Then... then what happened."

Izuku sighed. "She got me that phone a month later, at the expense of her own self of course." He revealed. "However, I found the receipt and returned it the very next day untouched. It wasn't worth the pain of the one person who loved me." Izuku turned to Asahi, looking down at his son with a gentle smile. "I get it, and I'm sorry that you have to go through that Asahi." He put a hand to his son's back. "I'm sorry that you've been feeling so lonely, but the way you spoke to me and your mother was not okay. You understand that?"

"Yes."

"Good. That's all we've got to sort out. Your mother and I will put you in a new school if you really want." Asahi's eyes widened in surprise. "You're a smart kid so the time you're out of school you can catch up in no time."

Taking Izuku by surprise, his fourteen year old son hugged him. "Dad." Asahi let out muffled. "You're a good dad."

It took Izuku a moment but his gaze softened as he put his arm around Asahi and squeezed. "Thank you."

-Glitch1d

*pushes away the Midoriya family adopting Kane one-shot to the back*

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #mha x y/n #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #dilf izuku midoriya #dilf izuku x reader #dilf midoriya #dilf deku #midoriya izuku angst #izuku x reader angst #midoriya izuku x reader

[talaok]

But Daddy I Love Him

summary: You and Joel shouldn't be together. According to the people in Jackson, he's a bad, cruel, crazy man, and yet... he's all you ever wanted.

Warnings: smut (unprotected p in v), angst, blood, physical fight (?), happy ending (cause of course)

a/n: ive been obsessed with this song since it came out, please just go listen to it

Now I'm runnin' with my dress unbuttoned Screamin', "But, Daddy, I love him I'm havin' his baby" No, I'm not, but you should see your faces I'm tellin' him to floor it through the fences No, I'm not coming to my senses I know he's crazy, but he's the one I want

— — —

"fuck"

"god"

His breath, his hands, his beard, his mouth, his cock

Him

He was all you could feel, he was all that existed,

nothing but him and his intoxicating aura, his manly mist, his sweaty body his strong arms,

Him

Joel Miller

The man you should not want, the man you should be terrified of, that you should run and hide from, 

the terrible, crazy, Joel Miller 

The same one everyone told you to stay away from, your friends, your family, strangers, the entirety of Jackson

And yet he was the only man you ever really wanted, really needed. 

"I missed you so much"

Even your own voice was nothing, it was a phantom of something that existed long ago, something that stopped living every time he was near, every time he would make everything dissipate into thin air with just his presence.

"I missed you too baby girl" he grunted,

oh how he grunts, how he groans, how he moans

nobody does it like him

"missed you so fucking much darlin'"

His voice felt like a prayer, like a sweet invocation to the sky up above, to whomever would listen,

one that countered completely what he was doing, the nothing but sinful way he had you up against the wall, his hands gripping your waist as he thrust his cock in and out of you so fast you might just break.

The bed was right beside you, but that didn't matter, that's how you were

You and Joel, 

like animals, like soulmates, like desperate, desperate lovers

Your minds didn't work the same when you were near, they didn't work at all, one could argue

But isn't that was love is after all?

"oh my god" you moaned, hiding your head in the crook of his neck as one particular deep thrust made you see stars

"I know darlin'" he cooed, only going faster, deeper "I know"

"Joel" you cried, biting down on his skin "f-fuck"

It had only been two weeks since you last saw each other, but it might as well been decades.

They had sent him away.

Nobody liked him in Jackson, not once they'd learned his story, the terrible things he'd done

And when they found out about you... not even his own brother could protect him.

So they'd exiled him. 

But they couldn't keep him away forever, not when he had something to come back for.

"god fuckin' damnit babygirl- you feel so fuckin' good"

Your moans only got higher, your nails clinging to his back like a rabid cat.

"perfect lil' pussy" he growled, his hot breath on your sweaty neck pulling shivers from your body "Perfect fuckin' girl"

"oh fuck" you whined, tightening your legs' hold onto his waist 

"you feel so good too Joel" you promised, breathing heavily in synch with him "You and your perfect cock"

He groaned so loud he sounded like an animal

"might want to keep that pretty mouth shut if you want this to last, sugar"

You didn't know where you found the strength to laugh, but you did

"you're gonna come too soon, old man?"

His hold on your waist pulled you even closer, as you raised your head to look him in the eyes

God, he was handsome

"just might, if you keep saying stuff like that"

but before you could tell him how it wasn't fair, how he did it all the time and you couldn't do it even once, his thumb was on your clit and your eyes were to the back of your head.

"no" he stopped you before you could hide your face from him again "I want to see you"

And as warmth filled your chest and your forehead fell to his and pressure built in your belly, he murmured:

"good girl- come for me, just like that- Jesus Christ-"

And so you did,

You came and moaned and cried, and it didn't take much before he was doing the same, pumping you full of him until he'd given you every single drop.

And then you kissed, he kissed you slowly and gently and in the same exact way that made you fall for him the very first time.

"god I missed you so much" he breathed once you leaned away

A smile from ear to ear took over your face and all you could do was kiss him again

"me too baby" you murmured, as he helped you to your feet

You both smiled like silly idiots as you dressed again,

but neither of you could resist being in each other's arms, so you didn't.

He pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you, kissing the crown of your head once you rested it on his still bare chest.

You didn't get how anyone could hate him,

You swore they wouldn't, they wouldn't if they only got to meet him, the real him, not the idea of him they had painted in their minds.

And so you hummed, breathing him in, clinging to him as he clung to you

Up until the very moment it all went to shit

Again.

"hey honey I just got back I-"

It was sad really, the fact you'd seen this scene before.

The disappointment in your dad's eyes, the fear turning into primal rage inside his iris, his fists tightening, Joel taking a step back

A deja-vu had never felt quite so devastating

"Arthur" Joel tried to speak, but your dad was already on him, his fist had already connected with his cheek

"What did I tell you!?" another punch "Last time was just a fucking warning!" and another

Joel was on the ground

He wasn't going to fight back.

This wasn't how he wanted to handle things

Not this time

Not with you

"I'll kill you this time you fucking disgusting pervert!" you swore you heard Joel's cheekbone crack with another hit "How dare you!?" your dad growled, Joel's bloody face beneath him "In my own home- how dare you take advantage of my daughter you fucking- pig!"

Your eyes were overflowing with tears, the top buttons of your dress were still unbuttoned, and Joel's chest was rising and falling too slowly, much too slowly

"dad"

But he kept going

"dad stop!"

you grabbed his wrist, and the moment his eyes met yours it felt like the word stopped, like it had frozen over.

You caused all that anger, all that pain

But if he just would listen to you...

"y/n"

"dad" your voice trembled as much as your fingers "dad I love him"

You saw his heart break. For all the wrong reasons,

for his poor daughter who was taken advantage of, for the naive, innocent daughter he couldn't protect. For the daughter that didn't exist. Because that wasn't you, that wasn't how things had gone.

"you don't know what you're saying"

His voice was harsh, cruel, cold.

"But I do!" tears ran down your cheeks as you glanced down to where Joel lay, to the cuts and blood coating his face "I love him dad, I really really do"

"You don't know who this man is" he said "The things he's done..." he said with a snarl, as if disgusted, as if the rage was surging from his chest all over again

"I know" you whispered "I know everything- He told me all of it dad, please" you begged "Please just let him go, let him talk"

"I don't need to listen to a word that comes out of this fucker's mouth"

"but dad-"

It was like a bomb went off

"HE'S 56!" he yelled, his grip on Joel's neck tightening "he's fifty fucking six y/n! You just fucking turned 21!" his voice bounced off the walls like thunder, "You're not even half his age!"

"who cares!?" you screamed too now, only your voice was interrupted by sobs 

"I DO!" he roared "Your mom would!" his eyes were wide with urgency, and although he was mad you could still hear the care behind his words "He might have made you think this is ok, that he loves you, but trust me none of it is true" he sighed "He's using you honey, I know it's hard to understand right now, but you- you're young- you don't know-"

Your hand left him, shaking as it went to wipe your tears.

"dad" you said more firmly now "I might be young but I'm not stupid"

"y/n-"

"no" you stopped him "Dad this is the first time I've ever felt this way, like I cannot breathe when he's not close, like I need him more than I need air" you swallowed thickly "And I know- I know it's hard to understand, I know it's easier to just go with the narrative in your head, of the fragile little girl and the big creepy guy, but this-" you took a shaky breath as you glanced at Joel again

His eyes were barely open, he was barely conscious

"This isn't like that" you promised "I- I love him, and he loves me"

"Honey-"

"I'm not done" you stopped him again "I'll never forgive you dad" you shook your head, simply stating the truth "I'll never forgive you if you do this, if you don't even give him a chance to explain, to tell you how things really are"

You saw the conflict in his eyes, the searing pain caused him to hear such words from his daughter, to hear her beg and threaten and speak up all at once,

and yet... yet he couldn't shake off the honesty, the hope lacing your words, your voice, sparkling from your eyes

And so he did the only thing he could,

he agreed, he agreed to hear the full story.

___

That was two years ago now,

and sometimes you wondered if it all was just a bad dream, if your imagination had tricked you into believing some silly made-up story,

but the glares from the people in town always seemed to refresh your memory.

And yes, maybe you would have liked to live a life without people whispering ugly things about you behind your back every day... but then maybe, maybe it was all worth it

For this.

For the child growing in your belly, for the veil on top of your head, for the sound of your dad stifling his sobs beside you, 

for the image of Joel waiting for you at the end of the aisle, for the tears in his eyes, for the smile on his face,

for him, 

for you,

It was all worth it,

Yes, yes it definitely was.

— — —

Now I'm dancin' in my dress in the sun and Even my daddy just loves him I'm his lady And, oh, my God, you should see your faces Time, doesn't it give some perspective? And, no, you can't come to the wedding I know it's crazy, but he's the one I want

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us #joel miller x fem reader #but daddy i love him #taylor swift

[erwinsvow]

what abt shy!reader sleeping over at rafes for the first time?? 😊😊

you'd been so nervous, slathering way too much frosting onto chocolate cupcakes while rafe told you the agenda he'd planned for tonight's date. in between mentions of dinner at this restaurant he liked on the water and stopping to get some ice cream before the outdoor movie, he'd thrown in a sentence that made your heart thud in your chest.

"unless you wanna come watch a movie here. we can eat all this crap you jus' made." you look up, butter knife almost slipping out of your hand.

"watch a movie.. here?"

"yeah. couch's comfy. got enough dessert to get a cavity. you can sleep over. how's that sound?"

it sounded terrifying. this was a milestone, one you needed several days and a new set of pajamas to prepare for. rafe looks down at your worried eyes, knitted eyebrows. you set down the cupcake before you drop it.

"sleep over?" you repeat it softly.

"snap out of it, kid. you don't have to." though the words feel like they should be mean, they're not. spoken with a sweetness you often found yourself wondering came naturally to your boyfriend, or if you brought it out in him. you hope for both.

"no, i want to," you correct quickly, blinking fast. "um, can you bring me home to get my stuff?"

"yeah. before dinner."

you turn back to your cupcakes with a smile, one that he stares at while you finish up. true to his word, he brings you home—you drop off a few sweets for your parents, give your kitten a treat while you pack a quick bag and grab your toothbrush. you don't change for dinner, keeping the pretty dress on until he gets you back into his bedroom later that night.

you've brought clothes to sleep in, but you hover in front of rafe's dresser still, working up the nerve to ask for one of his shirts to wear to bed. you can't seem to find it, deciding just to wear your pajamas, no matter how silly they are, when rafe opens the drawer and pulls out two shirts. he hands you one.

"get changed. m'gonna go change in the bathroom. be right back." you think you'd marry the boy if he asked right now—he seems to know your every thought before you can even finish thinking it, or figure out how to articulate it.

when rafe comes back you're a vision in one of his old frat shirts, playing with your hair while you sit on the foot of his bed.

"ready to sleep?" he asks, and you look up from your knees, smiling at him the way he wish you wouldn't sometimes, the way that makes his chest hurt with the amount of love pouring through your pretty eyes.

"what about dessert?" you ask with a laugh, smiling bigger when he rolls his eyes.

"haven't you had enough? how do you still have teeth?"

"i floss."

"shut up. get in bed." you crawl under his covers, inhaling the way everything smells like him. you lay your head down on one of his pillows, staring when he gets in next to you. "you okay?"

you love that he asks, that he cares enough to make sure.

"yeah. i'm okay."

"good. get some sleep." he doesn't say anything, but he still brings you in close to his chest, head on top of his heart, an arm around you, legs tangled together. when he thinks you're asleep, you hear the quiet sound.

"night, kid."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #this was very sweet and self indulgent #i hope you like it but i feel like i wrote it for me ajwjsfh #love u guys #shy reader

[draconic-desire]

To the Grave (400 subs!)

Yandere Aventurine x Reader

Yet another escape attempt thwarted. How will Aventurine react?

Warnings: Yandere behavior, implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment and affection

The room is cold, and not just because you’re half naked and shivering, clutching at your thin pajamas. No, it’s because the man across from you is radiating an aura more bone-chilling than Jarilo-VI.

Aventurine dismisses the IPC grunts who dragged you in with a wave of his hand. You get a sick sort of satisfaction that it took four of them, plus a senior staff member in a mech suit, to finally restrain you this time.

Your escape this round was spontaneous, but you couldn’t turn your nose at the opportunity when you noticed the guards had failed to lock your door that evening. You’d sprinted out wearing nothing but the ridiculous, skimpy nightwear that Aventurine liked to return to you wearing. You’d made it as far as the outskirts of the manor before you were grabbed and tackled by the pursuing goons.

Hence how you found yourself here, presented to the very man who held you captive against your will.

The room is dead silent. His back is to you, so you can’t gauge his expression, but you notice he’s playing with a single chip, tossing it back and forth between his hands—a tick that you’ve learned means he’s thinking, calculating.

“Did you really think your little stunt would work?” His voice is calm, barely over a whisper, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. Your nails dig into your palms ever so slightly harder, leaving crescent moons in their wake.

“The odds haven’t stopped me before,” you throw back, mocking his own betting lingo.

Aventurine lets out a dry, breathy laugh. “And that’s what makes a gambler. That desperate desire to cling to the hope that the next time will be the jackpot.”

“I’m willing to take those odds if it means a lifetime without you.”

He does not have one of his normal, clever comebacks for that, apparently. He merely flicks the chip one more time and snatches it midair in his left hand, which then moves to settle behind his back.

“Do you have any idea the lengths I go to in order to keep you safe?”

At first, you think you imagine it—the edge of hurt, the crack in his voice. But then you notice his posture, the hand held behind his back, the fist shaking ever so slightly. It’s the same as when he’s making a risky bet, when he’s scared of the next play.

Some of your bitterness morphs to confusion. “Aventurine—”

This time he turns, and his mesmerizing, beautiful, terrifying Avgin eyes meet your own. “You know what to call me.”

“Kakavasha,” you breathe out after a pause. At the sound of his true name, you see him release a breath, some of the ice melting around his eyes. “This isn’t safety, this is a prison. You can’t expect me to…”

Your voice trails off as he wraps his arms around you, one hand caressing your hair while the other attaches to your hip. He buries his nose into your neck, right at the base of your jaw, and you suck in a breath. You still feel the ghost of pain from each previous bite and bruise he’s left on your neck, the marks he uses to stake his claim on you.

He releases a choked laugh, making your knees weak with fear. You brace yourself for pain, for the sting of his fangs as he sinks his teeth into your flesh—

Except you realize he’s not laughing, he’s crying.

“I was so frightened, (Y/n). I thought—I thought you were gone—” Each attempt is cut off with another hitched breath, his grip on you like a vice. “You’re all I have left, the only thing that I can protect. I can’t lose you, too. I’ll give you anything. So please, just…stay.”

Your initial shock starts to bleed into uncertainty. Strings of doubt, of guilt, wrap around your heart. How can you pull away from him, knowing his past? How fate has stolen every loved one from him, leaving him a broken shell that he himself was forced to piece back together? Can you truly blame him for his possessiveness, his need to keep you?

Of course you can, logic tells you. But the lost man—no, the frightened Avgin boy, the last of his kind—who is clutching you with such unbridled affection and sadness doesn’t need your reasoning, he needs your understanding, your compassion.

You sigh, placing your hand on his head and running your fingers through his golden tresses, in the manner you know he loves so dearly from you. “I’m sorry. I—I’m not going anywhere.”

“No,” he agrees, his voice suddenly clear, “you aren’t.”

Something rattles and wraps around your neck with a click.

“Wha-what—!” You scratch at your nape, at the metal fixture that you don’t even need a mirror to identify. No. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t, not after everything he himself has been through, he wouldn’t subject you to the same humiliation and torture—

Aventurine gives the chain attached to the shackle around your neck a light tug. When your eyes lock with his, you see they are void of tears, brimming only with smug victory. The basted fucking faked it.

How easily you had fallen for the mask of Kakavasha, only to be met by the reality of Aventurine, his heart as hard as stone.

You immediately thrash, baring your teeth at him. “Bastard! Liar! Heartless wretch!” You growl when you hear him laugh at that last one. “I will never stop fighting you, not until you are alone, dead, and buried as you deserve!”

“That may be so,” he drawls, “but your willing compliance certainly isn’t something I’m willing to bet on.” He pulls you close by your chain, licking your fallen tear of frustration. “So how about I bring you to the grave with me, hm?”

#yandere aventurine #yandere aventurine x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere #yandere escape #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yanderecore #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere male #aventurine #aventurine x you #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr

[ailithnight]

DPxDC Prompt #8

Danny was practicing shapeshifting with Amorpho when he felt the tug of a summoning and heard the distant words drifting into his mind.

Normally Danny would just ignore it. Or if it seems like this was a group that needed some sense scared into them, he'd shift into his Horror form and terrify them into never pulling this shit again. But then he heard them mention live sacrifices, and Danny just had to step in before that happened. So he let the summoning pull him on through, briefly forgetting he was shapeshifted into a... less than ideal form.

Danny lands in the circle right on top of one of the intended sacrifices, a group of people in weird outfits and, is that guy green? Irrelevant. Immediately Danny on knows something is very wrong. His powers feel muted and far away. His form suddenly feels, locked somehow.

He casts his gaze across the summoning circle and, to his horror, recognizes the binding ritual. These cultists wanted to bind and seal him in one of these mortal's bodies after they were sacrificed. But they fucked up the spell. Or maybe Danny fucked it up by coming in too soon? Irrelevant again.

What matters is the spell went sideways. Instead of locking Danny into one of the sacrifice's bodies, it locked him into his own form while pulling most of his abilities just out of reach. Now he's here. In the shape of- He's stuck as-

"Dude, is that a pigeon? Did the Ghost King, like, send you to voicemail?"

#DPxDC Prompt #DPxDC #technically #DPxTeen Titans #The tv show version #With Robin Starfire Cyborg Raven and Beast Boy #I've seen a lot of Danny shapeshifted as different animals prompts #Cat bat duck goose dragon raccoon seal #Don't think I've seen pigeon though #And I got the line 'Did the Ghost King send you to voicemail?' about Pigeon!Danny showing up in the Ghost King's summoning #And I just had to throw that out here #Also Danny is supposed to look like a normal pigeon here #Maybe some slightly odd coloration #But part of the shapeshifting practice was learning how to shift into something that would pass for normal in the Mortal Realms

[verdemoun]

I’m sorry but can you imagine the impact Isaac’s death had on the rest of the gang. No one knowing what to do but watching Arthur change. Arthur losing himself, drinking constantly, going through episodes of uncontrollable rage to being emotionally vacant, where he asks Hosea (post-Bessie) if he’ll ever feel anything again. Nights where they think they can hear Arthur crying in his closed tent, and there’s an unspoken fear they could lose him. Fear that Arthur is going to die with his son, whether it’s drinking or increasingly reckless missions where it feels like he’s not trying to dodge bullets, or if one day he’s going to go off on a hunting trip and be found months later as a corpse with a gun still in his hand.

But he somehow pulls through. Recovers, or represses the grief enough to masquerade as okay. Starts smiling again.

John not understanding how devastating that grief could be until he’s holding his own son - a tiny fragile baby and knowing he already loves him too much. He doesn’t know how to be a parent, he doesn’t know how it’s possible to love something so much. He does know he could never be as strong as Arthur, because if anything happened to that tiny baby he wouldn’t be able to live. It’s terrifying, knowing something so small could destroy him. So he puts up walls: maybe it's not his baby. Still loves him. Tries to avoid Abigail and the baby. Still loves him.

He has to leave. Before that baby kills him.

#arthur morgan #john marston #look i worked on my essay a little okay leave me alone enjoy some angst

[starqueensthings]

We need to talk about Echo (and by talk I mean screm). S3 E13 + 14 Spoilers!

FRIENDS, I'M GOING TO EXPLODE. I need to talk about Echo for a minute. We need to talk about Echo for a minute,  because he has spent the last two episodes in the absolute thralls of complete and total danger, and I personally don't feel like there's been enough of a celebratory uproar for me to be satisfied with the level of appreciation and love that man deserves. (Remember when Hunter ran face first into a colossal exhaust pipe and we all collectively lost our minds because it was so impressive and so sexy? Remember when Tech drove a speeder really fast through a tunnel and we all fainted? I'M A TECH GIRLY. IT WAS ME! I FAINTED!!) but, Y'ALL, Echo deserves that right now!! And for all eternity!!! Because he is wholly submurged in the harrowing potential of torture and execution, and he didn't even bat an eye to put himself there. My awe of him is all-consuming, so please forgive me if this rant reads as nothing but incoherent screaming. 

Echo haters (first of all, we can't be friends....) come on this journey with me! Let's back pedal to the beginning of the last episode (13). He stole an imperial shuttle. Let me repeat, he stole an imperial shuttle. And not just an attack shuttle. Not just a lil one-pilot transport. Bro somehow stole a Rho-class medical transport, which is very large, obscenely conspicuous, and very easily tracked. And, to use his own words, it was "the best he could do on short notice." The man stole a shuttle on short notice. ON SHORT NOTICE? HELLO, HOW DID HE DO THAT. WHY AIN'T WE LOSING OUR COOL ABOUT IT. 

Next stop on this I-love-Echo journey through my mind: not only did he provide his brothers transportation in the complete void of their own (RIP havoc bb), but he also came equipped with intel and clearance codes, and, as Rampart stated, those things change DAILY. Echo somehow procured top secret imperial clearance codes, and a fkn SHIP, within hours of the Batch requesting his help. Not to mention, the ship had yet to be reported missing (which means it was only-freshly commandeered), and the clearance codes worked. Of course they did. Echo never fails. Never doubt Echo. "Echo's on it."  

Choochoo, next stop! Once they arrived on that station orbiting Coruscant, and made their way to the control room (lookin sexy as heck in his armour-au-noir), he broke imperial encryption, hacked into the Imperial database, almost instantly found them the location of a ship departing for the prison that holds their daughter Tantiss, AND THEN DIDN'T EVEN HESITATE TO CLIMB ABOARD AND STOW AWAY.  

He didn't even remotely have a plan, or have time to make a plan. He didn't know who or what else would be on board that mysterious vessel. He didn't know where it was going other than the name of the fkn mountain (which has proven to be nothing but unhelpful thus far). He just ARC-troopered his way through that crowded hangar, dodging aggressive astromech's and inconsiderate loader droids, shirking from the perspective eyes of highly trained commandos, and snuck his way onto a heavily guarded, extremely unknown science vessel. Then, of course, he wasted no time, hacking into the ships control system (may I gently remind- there were at least three pilots and an officer prepping the ship for jump and closely watching all aspects of its controls), disabling the proximity sensors without being detected, and then seamlessly covered the troopers absence by pretending to be him (which we all know is what should have happened on Serenno but... hindsight is 20/20.)  

So... SO.... now we're at Episode 14. Here we at fkn terrified station because HULLO ECHO IS ALONE ON A SCIENCE DIVISION TRANSPORT; we have literally seen them carry around Zilo beasts in that shit. What the heck else could be on there that they don't know about? Literally anything. Because THEY KNEW NOTHING before attaching themselves to it. Echo knew NOTHING before sneaking onto that thing and creepin' around. Thank heck he didnt come across a fkn fresh wave of slither vines ok?  

NEXT, Echo shoots (not stuns- lol) a sassy fkn droid (they had it coming, not sorry), then another trooper. AND THEN discovered his only option for departing the ship once it enters atmosphere is going completely undercover, because (in true "we improvise everything" CF99 fashion that gives me heart burn just thinking about it), they had zero fkn plan to get off the ship. I will repeat: completely undercover. On Tantiss. COMPLETELY UNDERCOVER ON TANTISS. NO COMMS, NO BACK UP, NO RECON, NO PLAN, BARELY ANY GEAR, and I would just like to stress... no neuro brace. He left his neurobrace on that ship. Left it. LEFT IT AND TOOK A HAND INSTEAD. PLEASE FKN SEDATE ME.  

We can't leave this station yet... This I-love-Echo train needs to linger at this point for a sec because I think it's lost on some people how wild this is. Echo without his neurobrace is huge. It's a bigger deal than Echo without his armour. Armour is, in the grand scheme of things, inconsequential (one can find more- see Howzer). Echo's neurobrace is not armour, it's a computer and it's so so so crucial to how his mind processes information and events. Don't forget, the Technounion HIJACKED HIS BRAIN. They took every memory from him and manipulated it for their gain. Pruned it, tweaked it, blanched it, poached it, turned it into scrambled eggs, and then fkn ate it up and used it to defeat their enemies (Echo's family- I'm sobbing). They implanted him with an unfathomable amount of information; they changed the way the neurons in his brain fire in relation to stimuli. That neurobrace is so so critical for him. Now, we know he can operate well enough without it, we saw it in the last episode of the TBB arc in season 7 of Clone Wars, but... please.... to what extent? We don't know what an extended time without that neurobrace looks like for him... especially when all other aspects compliing his surroundings foreign, unknown, and dangerous, and that scares me.

AND NOW HE'S ABOUT TO RUN AMOK IN TANTISS with Emerie who, (I'm sorry) is wishy-washy as heck (who are you loyal to!!!!! What is your history!!! Are you trustworthy and what are you looking to gain!!!), trying to adopt a collection of Jedi children whove spent maker-knows how long playing space tetris, WHILST ALSO ATTEMPTING TO LOCATE AND ESCAPE WITH HIS BROTHERS UNDER THE EYE OF THE GALAXY'S SECOND MOST DANGEROUS MAN. 

So yes, short of d-d-d-di... can't say it... short of THE WORST CASE, Echo has made the ultimate sacrifice to save not only Omega who is literally the only person we've seen able to make him truly laugh, but all the clone brothers that he's been desperately trying to locate and rescue. His bravery and determination are literally unrivalled, and he did it while feasting on nothing but humble pie because that man wouldn't know arrogance if it danced naked under his perfect nose.  

Okay so welcome, we've finally pulled into I-Love-Echo station. Before departing the ride, please stand and do a hip hip hurray for the miracle that is Echo, including but not limited to, everything he's done, is doing, and is willing to do for other people. 

#starqueensemotionalbreaksdowns lol #long post #the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #bad batch season 3 #bad batch spoilers #bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb season 3 #tbb season 3 spoilers #starqueensedits #tbb echo #echo tbb #bad batch echo #echo bad batch

[atlabeth]

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

[hihomeghere]

megan, darling sunshine, i have the softest of soft requests for you with our favorite cowboy. 🥺

can i request #6, #34, #36, #41, #83 with arthur? i desperately need protective, soon-to-be dad!arthur in my life. it's what we all deserve, honestly. 🤍

thank you so much! i can't wait to see what absolute magic you make with these prompts.

Deserving | Arthur Morgan / Reader

First off let me give you the fattest smooch <3

Word Count : 1.9k Prompts : 6. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear. 34. I think you're showing. 36. You're glowing. 41. The baby loves hearing you sing/speak. 83. Was that a kick? Warnings/tags : Cursing, talk of abandonment, Reader is 5 months pregnant, Arthur deserves a second chance at being a father, Self degrading talk on Arthur's part, Switch POV.

Arthur was aware it was a tad foolish the way he was feeling. Although seeing you growing his child has awakened something that had been lying dormant in him. Something that he hardly understood himself. A primal feeling, knowing that he was the one who made you like this. That it was his seed that had made you grow swollen and round and so damn gorgeous. 

He was also painfully aware of the gold ring in his pocket, his nerves eating him from the inside out. He had never been so nervous in his entire life, more nervous than when he went on his first job. Unlike a job he had never felt more unprepared. He had always wanted children, and he had dreamed of having children with you. But Jesus, he was terrified he would turn out like his old man. He didn’t- no - he couldn’t mess up this time. Not with you. Yes, he loved you. God he loved you more than anything. Arthur did not necessarily believe in soulmates. Perhaps when he was younger he could have believed that his soul could be tied to another person, but he wasn’t that foolish anymore. Love was something you worked for, it wasn't predestined by whatever god was above. He knew you could easily find another man to love you, even with the babe. He also knew you deserved someone better than him. You deserved the world, deserved someone who would build you a home, someone who hadn’t been too damn chicken to ask you to marry him before knocking you up. But he also knew that no man could love you like he loved you.

“You’re staring Arthur.” You chuckled, raising a brow as you turned to face him. Your hand resting on your hip as you leaned on the boar skinned table.

“You’re glowing.” He said softly, not denying the fact that he had indeed been staring at you. How could he not? You were really glowing, he hadn’t known that that silly saying about pregnant women was the truth. You were like some angel, the glow coming from within, lighting up the small tent. If he squinted he swore he could see a halo around your head. Especially when your bump had finally shown itself. 

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as you went back to whatever task you were working on. He walked up behind you, his deft fingers working on removing his gun belt. Laying belt down on the table before pulling you against his chest.

His hands lovingly squeezed your hips, before moving to your stomach. He sighed contently, laying his head in the crook of your neck. Breathing in your sweet smell, his calloused hands running over the soft fabric of your skirt. His heart nearly stopped as he felt the swell of your abdomen. Nearly brought to his knees by such a small thing. Well it wasn’t exactly small anymore, you had finally ‘popped’. 

“‘Think you’re showing, sunshine.” He whispered, his breath tickling your ear as he swayed with you in his arms. You giggled, shying away from his lips as they brushed against your neck.

“I would say so, can’t fit in my damn pants anymore.” You chuckled, shaking your head as you continued to patch a hole in one of his shirts. 

In all honesty, you hadn’t been able to fit in your pants for a long time. It had been almost four months since the fateful day you told Arthur you were pregnant.

-

You had all the telltale signs, breast tenderness, food aversions, etc. Along with Abigail’s damn knowing glances, and then your monthly cycle had been absent, confirming your suspicions. You had nearly gone mad, a million thoughts running through your head. How were you supposed to care for a child with the lifestyle you had? You had briefly discussed children with Arthur, but it was always in the future. When you weren’t being chased by the law or Pinkertons or whoever. You didn’t want your child to be raised how either of you were raised. Always on the run, never having a true safe place to call home. Speaking of the future, marriage had always been a talk for the future as well. Now you were here, an unwed mother. 

And then there was Isaac and Eliza. That was a whole new can of worms to throw into the mix. Would he even want to have a child right now? Would he still want you after he found out? If he left you what would you do?

You would manage, that’s what you always did. But you didn’t want to go through this without him. 

He had found you pacing near camp, nearly chewing your lip off. His heart constricted in his chest as he watched you.

“Everything alright darlin’?” He asked, pulling you out of your downward spiral. A similar concerned expression on his face as he took you in. You met his bright blue eyes and instantly you fell apart. Tears welled up in your eyes as he rushed over to you. Taking long strides across the grass before pulling you into his broad chest. His calloused hands warm and loving as they rubbed up and down your back, your body shaking with sobs you couldn’t control. “Darlin’ you’re scaring me.” He said softly, laying his chin on the top of your head. “Talk to me sunshine.”

“Arthur I think-“ You let out a shaky breath, “I think I’m pregnant.” You cried, tears clouding your vision as you looked up at him. 

He was frozen, his brain short circuiting as he tried to process the words you had just said. He must have heard you wrong. 

“What… what did ya say darlin’?” He asked, his hands on your biceps as he held you in front of him. His brows furrowed and his lips drawn into a thin line. 

“I’m pregnant Arthur.” You said, your lip trembling as you waited for his response. You were trembling in his grasp, your heart pounding against your rib cage. 

“Okay.” He nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around it all. Goddamn it Morgan, you’ve gone done it again. Are you seriously the most foolish man alive? His thoughts spiraled into their usual degrading speech. Here you were shaking in his arms like a damn leaf and he was too damn stupid to say anything. Say something, anything, to stop her from crying. Your tears tugging on his heart strings. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He cooed, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry, please.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“M’sorry-” You sobbed, looking down.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize for this.” He said holding your face, “If anyone ought to apologize, it should be me.” He said, shaking his head. You bit your lip, looking up at him.

“Arthur, what are we gonna do?” You asked, finally calmed down enough to speak a coherent sentence. He clenched his jaw, looking off to the side.

“Do you want this?” He asked softly, running his hand down your arm. Taking your significantly smaller hands in his, squeezing them gently.

“I-“ You sighed, letting out a long breath. “I think I do.” You nodded, hesitantly raising your head to look at him. He exhaled a breath of relief. 

“Okay.” He nodded, “I want this too.” He said, giving you a reassuring smile. You couldn’t help but let out an equally relieved breath, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah?” You asked, chuckling breathlessly. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, chuckling along with you. “You know I won’t let anything happen to you, you or the baby, I swear.” He said gently pulling you closer, his hand moving down to caress your stomach. 

-

You smiled at the memory as Arthur rubbed his hand over your bump.

“They movin’ any?” He asked, kissing your cheek.

“They have been most of the day.” You chuckled, following his lips with your cheek as he pulled away. You turned around in his grasp, laying your hands on his chest. “They’d probably move if you talked to them. You know how the baby loves hearing you talk.” You said, smiling up at him. He grinned, his eyes sparkling with pride.

 He knelt down, feeling his mothers ring slide lower into his pocket. As he knelt face to face with your round belly, he couldn’t have been more thankful that Mary had returned his ring. That things hadn’t worked out between them, because if they did, he would have missed this. 

He pressed his lips against your belly in a chaste kiss, before chuckling softly to himself. “Hey there kid.” He said, his grin growing if that was even possible. “Ya bein’ good for ya mama?” He asked, running his hand over the tight skin. He felt a small kick under his palm, looking up at you for confirmation that it wasn’t a part of his imagination. “Was that a kick?”

“Sure was.” You chuckled, laying your hand over his. He chuckled, shaking his head as he stared at your belly. There had been too many nights lying next to you on his small cot, twirling the ring in his fingers. Just trying to work up the courage to ask you. Even before your belly started to swell he had dreamed of asking you. He just wanted everything to be perfect, although in hindsight it was a foolish thought. Things would never be perfect, that was the thing wasn’t it?

Now was the time. He knew it, kneeling here in front of you, but how was he gonna ask? How was he gonna get past the lump in his throat?

“Hey kiddo, ya think I could have a moment with your mama here?” He asked, a nervous smile on his lips as he looked up at you. “I got a question for her.” It was now or never. He reached into his pocket, his sweaty fingers grasping the small gold ring. He took in a deep breath before finding your gaze, holding out the ring to you. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand, tears pricking your eyes.

“This… well this ain’t how I imagined this. I wanted to do something special for ya and I should’ve done this a long time ago. I promised ya when we found out about the kid I wouldn’t let anything happen to ya. I mean to keep that promise. There are men more deserving of you, hell I’m probably the least deserving-“ You scoffed shaking your head, “But none of those men could ever love you the way I do. So, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He asked, gingerly holding your left hand. 

“Yes, yes!” You cried, grinning as he slipped the ring onto your finger. He let out a breath of relief, getting to his feet. You threw yourself into his arms, laughing as tears slipped down your cheeks. 

“It’s uh- I know it’s nothing fancy but-“ He said softly, “It was my mothers and I know she’d want ya to have it.”

“It’s perfect.” You said, pulling away to admire the ruby ring. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You chuckled, wiping away your tears as you admired the ring. Arthur’s heart warmed at your words. He would never know what he had done to deserve someone like you, you and the baby. Although he may not have said his vows at that moment, he made a silent one in his heart. As long as his heart was beating, and there was still breath in his lungs, nothing would ever happen to either of you.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur #red dead redemption arthur #red dead #red dead redemption #rdr #hihomeghere #mini prompt #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john Marston #abigail roberts #abigail marston #javier escuella #arthur morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x pregnant reader #jack marston

[hurthermore]

Hi it’s my birthday in Wednesday (24th April) and I was wondering if you’d do an Alastor x fem!reader oneshot? I don’t have a plot in mind but smut and an established relationship and fluffy as well please

»»------► 𝙱𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚗 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏 (18+)

Pairing: 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Warnings: 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝

A/N: 𝙰𝚑 𝚘𝚏𝚌!!<𝟹 𝙷𝙰𝙿𝙿𝚈 𝙱𝙸𝚁𝚃𝙷𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝙸 𝙷𝙾𝙿𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝙶𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃 𝙳𝙰𝚈!! 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞!<𝟹𝟹 𝙸 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎, 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝!<𝟹

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚔:

"I love your bimbo series and was wondering if you could do a fluff smut chapter? Like the reader grooming him and putting little bows on his tail etc. and he pampers them in return. After reading the latest chapters, SM fic, and Misconduct I've been in such a sub-drop LOL Much love 💗🥺"

The Radio Demon: an entity that with his name alone, intimidated and struck fear into the undead souls of millions. A being that was so terrifying, his presence was always warned among the masses to not cross, to not even attempt to annoy, to avoid at all costs, was also a demon who allowed his darling and frolicsome girlfriend to paint his claws and put fatuous pink bows into his hair.

No, Alastor may have been a scary embodiment of evil to some, but for you, he was nothing but a sweetheart, a sweetheart who would allow you to do whatever you pleased to him; even at the cost of his own dignity.

Which was where he currently found himself; his dignity snatched away from him as he allowed your defiled and naked form to sit on top of his equally desecrated and nude body as you parted his hair down the middle, only to clip back each side with dubious amounts of little pink bows and hair clips, all whilst he smoked a cigar, simply relaxing in the afterglow of the sexual night you two had just consummated, delectably ravishing each other until you both had found your releases.

Alastor was perplexed on where you had pulled the amass of hair accessories from, but the way you had asked him so sweetly if you could put some in his hair? He could never say no to you, even more so when you gave him such an excited expression pulled with that ridiculously beautiful face of yours, only to be topped off with your begging tone. He could never win against that combination.

You truly did have him wrapped around your little finger.

He genuinely never believed he’d find himself in such a debasing situation, but he found himself quite uncharacteristically enjoying it too; mainly due to how softly your hands caressed him, how he had complete view of your supple body as it was on complete display for him whilst you both revelled in each other's presence. 

Blowing a puff of smoke into your chest, Alastor observed the stretch of your arms as you placed little pink ribbons on each side of his antlers, wrapping the silked material around them before you smiled widely. “Done! You look so cute!” You had grinned with ebullience, clasping your hands onto his shoulders before placing a kiss against his cheek.

“I am many things, my love, but cute is not one of them.” He almost deadpanned as he placed his cold palm into your cheek, moving a tussle of stray hair behind your ear before he continued to stroke your face, admiring you. “But you? You’re quite the sight for sore eyes.”

“You’re cute to me.” You replied before giving him a knowing look, a look that told him you were feeling frisky; erotic, even. And as you took the cigar from his sharp claws, you place the stick in between your lips ever so softly before inhaling the contents, only to blow a cloud of smoke of your own into your lovers facial structure before you stubbed the cancerous stick out in the ashtray that laid against a black tentacle conjured from the same man you sat a top.

Slinking your arms around his shoulders, purposefully pressing your bare chest against his, you began breathing heavily in his face with want; for some reason, you just had the urge to fuck your boyfriend whilst he looked so cute, filled with bows and clips, regardless of how many times you may of already fornicated that night, you couldn’t help but feel yourself get hot again as the juices of your lover still excreted from you.

Slowly, you began grinding your already wet and naked core against his soft cock, holding him tighter as you purposefully moaned ever so softly against his cheek. Alastor, although surprised you wanted to carry on your sexual endeavours, especially after the two of you had already gone at it for a few hours prior to you deciding you needed to vandalise his hair with silly bows, had turned his lips to meet yours, softly pulling you into a passionate but sweet kiss.

He was surprised you wanted him again, even after how imbecilic you had made his appearance.

But the Radio Demon was a vigorous being, one who would never deny you anything, especially your warm walls against him; placing a clawed palm against your posterior, he assisted in helping you move your squishy folds against his now hardening cock slightly harder, making sure his length glided perfectly between your folds.

It didn’t take long for him to become ready to wear your cunt like an accessory on his cock, and as he entered back inside your already cum filled core, you both breathed heavily as his heavy sex filled you back up to the brim, his previous ejaculation excreting from your cunt as he did. It was so slow and so sensual, the way you moved your hips as you rode the Radio Demon; your boyfriend. 

Feeling your wet walls clamp down on his cock, bouncing against his pelvis ever so gently, Alastor couldn’t help but open his mouth, persuading you to do the same before he entered his tongue back into your mouth, tasting the remnants of his own cock that he had shoved in your mouth only an hour ago.

He could live the rest of his existence like this; he would never get bored of it.

Sorry i SUCK at fluffy smut but HAPPY BIRTHDAY<3

#alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #reader insert #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader smut #x reader #alastor smut

[luxaofhesperides]

greener on the other side.

Danny makes a habit out of hopping into portals and exploring the places he ends up. It just so happens that this time, he ends up in Gotham right as the Signal begins his patrol. Duke meets the strangest, funniest, cutest guy on the roof of the Gotham City Public Library. He knows Batman would not approve of literally anything he's doing, but sue him, he wants a meta friend and this guy seems to be up for it. -- OR: how Duke and Danny get together despite having secret identities and living in different dimensions.

chapter three: how it shines - 8.6k

read the entire fic on ao3!

the final chapter of this fic... and the end to the first fic in the series!! theres a lot i say in the end notes of ao3 so i highly recommend reading this chapter there! . . .

Signal: you ever feel like maybe the world is out to get you

Signal: [attached photo shows Signal lying in the middle of a torn up road, post-fight, his helmet lightly blackened with ash.]

Danny: buddy, the world has already taken me out

Danny: [attached photo is a selfie of Danny, frowning at the camera. Behind him, a large, flying robot is pointing a rocket launcher at him.]

Signal: okay, you win. are you alright???

Danny: lol im fine. this literally happens every week i know how to beat this guy up

Danny: tbh i think the real threat to my existence is school

Signal: so true. one day we will be free of it….

Danny: but not today

Signal: but not today

-

Danny: got a minute?

Signal: yeah what’s up?

Danny: u have a secret identity

Signal: …yes?

Danny: have u told other people abt ur secret identity

Signal: yes? but some of them just kinda found out on their own

Signal: why? 

Danny: how did that go. did they react well? did u have to defend urself from them?

Signal: there were some problems about me throwing myself in danger, but i was always safe with them

Danny: okay. cool. got it.

Signal: everything okay?

Danny: im thinking about telling my parents a secret about me. im kinda terrified of how they’re going to react

Signal: are you coming out to them?

Danny: in a way i guess. 

Danny: gonna recruit my sister into helping me talk to them. and also get rid of all their weapons beforehand so there’s a lower chance of them shooting me

Signal: shooting you?!?!? dude are you going to be okay??? don’t do anything that could get you hurt!!

Danny: gtg

Signal: dude??

Signal: danny?

Signal: let me know how it goes, okay? i can’t travel through dimensions like you can, but i can figure something out if you need a rescue

Signal: good luck danny!

-

Danny: ever get into a fist fight with a walmart knock off vampire in the parking lot of a burger joint?

Danny: [attached photo is Danny’s hand flipping off a man hovering in a parking lot. He’s wearing a cape and vampire-coded clothes.]

Signal: ever have a snack break in the middle of fighting a crocodile man?

Signal: [attached photo shows Signal holding up a half eaten taco, a giant crocodile man behind him with his own box of tacos. They’re sitting next to each other in an alley.]

Danny: point to u bc u actually got food

Signal: 😝

Signal: also, everything okay? with your parents?

Danny: let’s not talk about that.

Signal: okay. but if you do want to talk, i’ll be here for you

-

Danny: idk if dash is trying to annoy me into another fling or if he actually wants me to throw him across the field but if he doesn’t back off im going for violence

Signal: uh

Danny: THAT WAS MEANT FOR TUCKER IM SO SORRY

Signal: should i be jealous that someone is hoping for another fling with you lol

Danny: it was once and will never happen again. 1) he’s not my type 2) he’s so annoying

Danny: also why would u get jealous of anyone ure literally a hero? hello?

Signal: hey man that guy is with you in your dimension and im all the way over here

Signal: totally reasonable for me to get jealous!! this is like a more extreme version of having online friends

Danny: true… hey i can swing by for the weekend if u want!! honestly the less time i spend here the better

Signal: that bad?

Danny: i’ve known everyone here for my entire life. i need OUT

Danny: gothams cool! its a big city with things to do!!! obviously im gonna like it more than Normal Town Illinois 🤮

Signal: weather is bad all week tho…. even if you come over we wouldnt be able to go out

Signal: its been a while since we had a storm so bad

Danny: man if that was happening here i would be able to punch the storm away

Signal: im taking that as a joke

Danny: no i literally punched a storm away before. he was a dick tho he deserved it

Signal: ….this is still Normal Town Illinois right?

Danny: .

Danny: ok fine maybe u have a point

Danny: anyways!!! i just wanna hang out with you dude i would be happy just playing video games or something

Signal: we can do that!! let me know when u get here 😊

Signal: and good luck dealing w this dash guy!!

Danny: ugh dont remind me

-

Signal: hye u know our plana to hang out tody

Signal: maybe rain chek tht im not goos company rn

Danny: u ok? i can always come by some other weekend

Signal: got hit and everythif bad

Danny: did u hit ur head?

Signal: yes

Danny: ok im going to call u so you can stop looking at ur phone screen. just in case u have a concussion

-

The phone rings twice before Signal picks up. He mumbles something that might be a hello, but it’s honestly hard to tell. 

“Hey, man,” Danny says, leaning back in his chair to look up at the faded glow in the dark stars he stuck up on his ceiling years ago. “Are you okay?”

Signal hums a vague response, then sighs, sending static down the line. “Just got a headache right now. Can’t even go out since it’s too bright.”

“Is it sunny in Gotham right now?”

“No, it’s super cloudy and that’s still too much. I hate concussions.” There’s a bit of a whine in his voice that reminds Danny that under the helmet, Signal is a normal guy just like anyone else. And like everyone else, powers don’t save him from the pain of brain trauma. 

Danny would know; he’s gotten pretty good at taking care of injuries and the such through his high school career of getting tossed in lockers and attacked by ghosts. He’s pretty sure parts of his brain are still rattled from the amount of times he’s been thrown into and through walls. 

“I hear you, man,” Danny commiserates, “Head injuries are the worst. But it should start feeling better in a few days, so you can just stay home and relax until the pain stops.”

“Ugh, I wish. I still have to go to school tomorrow.”

“Dude, that sucks. If you can stay home sick, then don’t force yourself to go. Concussions are no joke.”

Signal hums again, then mumbles, “I can’t think of an excuse. Cause the concussion is from being hit on patrol so like. I can’t say that! I have to figure out a reason for my civilian identity to have a concussion.”

“Can I suggest something?”

“Please, I’ll take anything at this point, man. My brain is done for.”

“Make up an embarrassing story. You have to make yourself look silly and people will believe you more and not ask follow up questions because you’re too embarrassed to say more.”

“...Keep talking. This sounds viable. The only advice I got was to basically fake my death or get into a car accident to get more injured.”

“I think you need to fight whoever said that,” Danny says, “That is horrible advice.”

“I know!” Signal laughs. “Oh I shouldn’t have laughed, my head is hurting more.”

Danny lets out a slow breath, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling of his bedroom. If he strains his hearing, he can make out the rustle of fabric from Signal’s end of the call as well as the murmur of his parent’s voices downstairs. He closes his eyes and focuses on the call, pushing away the heavy weight of regret on his chest that hits him each time he thinks about his parents. 

Now is not the time for that. Signal needs calm and quiet, so Danny is going to give that to him and then let him go to rest.

“Are you drinking enough water? Getting some comfort food?”

“Yeah, I’m being taken care of. Don’t worry Danny, I got a whole crew of dysfunctional caretakers.”

“Good. I’ll let you get back to resting, then.”

“I’m still so sorry I had to cancel. I was looking forward to seeing you again.”

Warmth rises to his cheeks and Danny rubs a hand against them, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach that came to life at those words.  “We can always do a different day. Let me know when you feel better, okay?”

“Yeah, alright. Thanks, Danny.”

“I hope you feel better soon, Signal. I missed you too.”

There’s a pause where Danny’s heart pounds hard against his chest, as though trying to escape his ribcage. He bites his tongue, wondering it that was too much, if he made things weird, if Signal didn’t feel the same way. 

And then Signal says with a soft voice, “I can’t wait to see you again. You’re too sweet to me.”

“Okay!” Danny squeaks, cheeks aflame, “Go sleep, Signal! I’ll talk to you once you can look at a screen again.”

“Alright. Thanks, Danny.”

“Of course, dude. Bye.”

Signal makes a soft mumble that could be ‘bye’ but it’s hard to tell with Signal’s voice going all rough and low, exhausting in every sound, and then the call is ending. 

Danny drops the phone onto his desk and draws his knees up to hold them against his chest. He rests his chin on them, filled with longing for Gotham.

Not just for the Signal, though that’s a big part of it. But for the anonymity of a big city in a dimension where he doesn’t exist. A place where he can be himself, just Danny instead of being torn between his parent’s son and Phantom. Plus, Gotham has heroes! Not other ghosts, not ghost hunters, but people with superpowers who help people whenever they can. 

It would be nice to be someplace like Gotham where he wouldn’t have to carry the responsibility of protecting an entire city on his shoulders. It would be nice to have friends who understand why he can’t not give his all to protect people, regardless of how they feel for him, friends who make the same choice, friends who aren’t weighed down by guilt with their part in his death.

As much as he loves Sam and Tucker, he knows that will be something that haunts them for the rest of their lives. 

It’s better now that it had been in freshman year, but it’s still something that changed them all. He’ll always love them, and he knows they love him, but they need to spend some time apart.

In Amity Park, they’re the outsiders who are too weird for the rest of the school, outcasts who stick together, a tightly knit group full of secrets. They’ve been each others only friends for the longest time; sometimes, others come in and out of their lives, like Valerie, but the bond he has with Sam and Tucker can’t be replicated. 

They need to be with new people to grow any more. He can see how they’re holding each other back. 

They’ll always find a way to be together, but they have to be apart first.

Gotham will be good for that. 

Hell, any place in that dimension would be good!

Danny just wants to be more than he is, wants to be better and he can’t do that here or with his friends. 

And he certainly can’t do that with his parents.

After telling them about everything’s he’s done as Phantom, all the times he’s ruined their inventions or fought with the GIW or endangered people through his fights with other ghosts, his parents just stared at him. They were seated around the kitchen table, Jazz standing behind Danny with a comforting hand on his shoulder, as his parents just… stared.

There were no accusations of possession, no weapons drawn, no demands for an explanation. Just a haunted look in his parents eyes as they went silent, still, horrified. 

“Danny,” his mom had whispered, “You mean you’re—”

“I’m Phantom, yeah. The ghost menace,” he had answered.

“You’re dead,” she finished as if he hadn’t spoken. “You died and we didn’t… we never noticed. What— How—”

The thing about being Phantom is that Danny knows he died. He knows he came back changed. But he doesn’t like thinking about it, still wakes up from nightmares of electricity racing through his body, frying him from inside out as it stops and restarts his heart in an endless painful pattern. Yes he died, but he got powers out of it! He got to meet other ghosts, explore the Infinite Realms, do so many cool things no one else is able to do…

But he still died. Half of him is still dead. He’s never going to be the kid he once was.

“It was an accident,” he had whispered, “With the portal. The on button is inside it, and when I went in for some stupid picture, I tripped and hit it.”

“And we only cared about the portal working,” his dad had said, grief coloring every line in his face. “We didn’t even look at you. We just went straight for the portal. We were so happy to be right that we didn’t stop to think about what it meant, how it could have happened…”

The tears he saw well up in his parents eyes made his heart twist uncomfortably in his chest. For several long minutes, silence settled around them as his parents closed either eyes are stared down at the table, refusing to look at him. Jazz had squeezed his shoulder, then pulled him up out of his seat.

“Danny, go upstairs. Or to Tucker’s place. I need to have my own talk with them,” she had said. There was a steel in her gaze that told Danny there was no use in arguing, so he walked out the front door and transformed so he could fly out into the woods where he could be alone, watching the sky change colors as the sun set.

It’s been two weeks since then. His parents still can’t look at him for too long. They can’t look him in the eyes at all.

He wonders if he would have preferred them trying to kill him. At least then they would acknowledge that he’s still here instead of moving around him as if he’s a memory haunting the halls of their home, one they’re too guilty to face just yet. 

He misses his dad’s loud voice and enthusiasm. He misses his mom’s quick wit and quicker reflexes. He misses the chaos of each meal they would have together and how his parents would drag him and Jazz along on random, sudden trips for the sake of science. 

He misses his parents. 

Danny hates that the family he loves died with him in that portal. 

As much as he still loves them, being in the house, and in Amity Park in general, is suffocating. The farther he can get from them the better; Danny isn’t sure he’d react well if he stayed in this universe and woke up one day with his parents decided to break into his new home because they finally feel up to having a conversation with him. 

Maybe he’d talk to Signal about what living in Gotham is like. That might help him make a decision on what to do with himself once he graduates from Casper High School.

He’ll save it for the next time they meet. 

Some things are better done in person, after all. And it wouldn’t hurt for Danny to use it as an excuse to make sure he’s fine. 

But for now, he’ll wait until the days pass and keep daydreaming about better things.

-

Signal: hey man, u doing okay? i haven’t heard from u in a while

Danny: yeah im good! i was waiting for u to text first bc i didnt know how long you’d need to recover from a concussion

Signal: ive been good for a while, dude. dw abt waiting to text me, just send me something and i’ll reply once i can!!

Danny: i’ll keep that in mind for the next time u get injured 👍

Signal: but fr are u good? tell me to back off if u need but u seem kinda down

Danny: im fine!!! just dealing w the crushing weight of existence, that’s all 🫠

Signal: oh mood. anything i can do to make things better for u?

Danny: nah it’s fine, im just like this sometimes. i promise it’ll pass

Signal: want a distraction?

Danny: please

Signal: so i was just swinging thru the streets as i do and this group called me down while theyre having a huge argument

Signal: so i go bc i dont want things escalating yknow? 

Signal: and idk the context of this argument AT ALL but one of them turns to me

Signal: looks me dead in the eyes

Signal: and says ‘penis enhancement pills are NOT a thing, right?’

Danny: SKDFJALSDJ NO WAY

Signal: oh man. this isnt even the best part of this story

Danny: there’s MORE?????

Signal: its gotham, danny, there’s always more lmao

Signal: so anyways……..

-

Danny: i hope you know that story has been haunting me all week

Danny: dash was being a dick again and i was half asleep so i told him ‘maybe u’d be less of a dick if u stop taking penis enhancing pills’

Signal: THATS GOLD

Signal: my job here is done. nothing will ever top that. i’ll see myself out ✌️

Danny: he looked so shocked lmaooo

Danny: tried to say he DOESNT take any pills but it was too late

Danny: he was too flustered by it no one believed him

Danny: top 10 things to say to ur former bully

Signal: i didnt know he bullied u. good for u! get his ass!

Danny: he’s fine now lol just annoying. we all grew out of the super cliche high school phase after freshman year when we had to work together to fend off ghosts and the government

Signal: nothing like a little anarchy to bring people together

Signal: its why im still good friends w the people who were in a gang i joined when i was younger to be like. street kid vigilantes bc gotham was going bad back then

Danny: everything u say about gotham and ur life is so fascinating literally how are u real?? ure the perfect ya novel protagonist

Signal: thats the sweetest thing anyones ever said to me ❣️

Signal: but also lol. lmao. gotham really is just like that. no one is immune

Signal: u also sound like a ya protag jsyk. 

Danny: literally how im so boring??

Signal: danny. babe. im gonna have to bring out the capital letters for this bc i get the feeling that u really believe that

Danny: oh boy

Signal: Listen. You live in a small town that’s Haunted, fight ghosts, have powers, went from being bullied to being chill with your bully, and can travel the multiverse. You are a YA Protagonist.

Danny: damn i can’t argue with that :/

Danny: why’d i have to be the ghost hunter’s ghost son. i wanna be a side character. give me a refund on this life pls

Signal: do i dare ask clarification on the ghost thing?

Danny: uuuh no? its kinda personal and im dealing w it but its also kinda like ur civilian id?

Danny: its something i’ll share once we’re closer and i know u better and can trust u with it

Signal: totally fair. want me to pretend that part of the conversation never happened?

Danny: please

Signal: cool. watch this

Signal changed Danny’s name to YA protag (real)

YA protag (real): ooooh my god

YA protag (real): im not taking this lying down

YA protag (real) changed Signal’s name to YA menace

YA protag (real) changed their name to YA protag (retired)

YA menace: lmao

YA menace: does this mean… ure my senior…. my knowledgeable mentor… my senpai 🥺

YA protag (retired): i will throw us both into a black hole dont even try me 🔪

YA menace: LMAO

YA menace: fair. just saying that dealt me so much psychological damage

YA protag (retired): deserved

-

YA protag (retired): can we attempt Danny Visits Gotham: 2! Electric Boo-galoo?

YA menace: yeah!!!! im free this weekend if u wanna come by then!!

YA protag (retired): i can do this weekend!!

YA menace: i will do my very best not to get a head injury before then

YA protag (retired): can u maybe aim for no injuries?

YA menace: danny we need to be realistic here

YA menace: my goal is to have no bleeding wounds that need stitches. as long as i don’t bleed its not a problem 👍

YA protag (retired): …..

YA menace: no need for the judgment i have everything under control

YA protag (retired): …………

YA protag (retired): :/

-

YA menace: lmk when ure gonna be in gotham! i’ll make sure to be outside waiting for u

YA protag (retired): i’ll be another hour but i’ll send a msg before i head out!!

YA protag (retired): actually it might be a bit longer i gotta fight some people who are trying to cheer me up

YA menace: should i be concerned

YA protag (retired): nah its fine they’re just annoying

YA menace: if u need to reschedule

YA protag (retired): noooo!!!! i’ll be in gotham soon i swear!!!!

YA menace: ok!! ok!!!! i will keep waiting for you then 🫡

-

Duke waits for an hour and a half, swinging through streets and waving to people, before Danny texts him to let him know that he’s next to the botanical gardens. 

One moment, Duke is perched on the roof of a Mexican restaurant in the Bowery. The next, he’s halfway across Gotham, swinging recklessly from building to building.

So what if he’s excited to see Danny again! That’s normal!

Anyone would do the same in his position.

Plus, Duke still feels so bad about having to cancel last time due to his concussion. The sooner he gets to Danny, the sooner he can start making up for it. He didn’t spend the last few patrols being extra careful for nothing; he only has a few bruise and no bleeding at all! 

Danny’s star glow helps Duke find him behind the botanical gardens, hidden away from the rest of the street. 

He drops down from the roof, using the shadows to soften the impact of landing.

When he looks at Danny, leaning against the building, he’s greeted with a bright smile. 

“Signal!” he says, pushing off the wall to close the distance between them. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long or anything.”

“Nah, you’re good. You alright?”

“Oh, yeah, of course! It was just some friendly fighting, and they wouldn’t be able to really hurt me even if they tried. I’m all good! So, what’s the plan for today?”

Duke looks him over just in case, but Danny does appear to be perfectly fine. Not a single bruise on him. Maybe it was just a few friends roughhousing with him? That might be it, since Sam and Tucker did try to take each other out last time they were in Gotham. So he’s just going to go with what Danny says! He’s fine, and they can move on!

He’s totally going to worry about it later, but right now is not the time for it when Danny’s waiting to spend the day with him.

“Well, I still have to finish patrol, but that’s just for another hour if you wanna join me,” he says. “And then we can head to the Hatch to just… hang out. Or we can find something else to do, totally up to you.”

“The Hatch?” Danny repeats, tilting his head to the side curiously. Duke has to take a moment and just appreciate how cute Danny is before he can compose himself enough to answer.

“Yeah, it’s like my… secret base? HQ? The place I go for superhero things that is for me, specifically, and that I don’t have to share with a bunch of other people.”

“You have a secret base?! That’s so awesome! I just have—” Danny falters, his excitement falling, and then he plasters on a pained, fake smile. “I’ve always wanted to see a superhero’s HQ. Are you sure it’s fine to show it to me, though?”

Part of him wants to ask about what he was going to say before switching gears, but the drawn expression on his face is more than enough to make Duke back off. “Yeah, man, don’t even worry about it. Besides, it’s not like there’s any other places we can go to without me revealing my identity, you know?”

“Fair enough,” Danny nods. “But maybe one day we can?”

“For sure,” Duke says. “Come on, up for a quick patrol around Gotham?”

“Oh, definitely.” The light returns to Danny’s eyes as he lifts off the ground, floating. The smile on his face is more sincere, and the sight of it makes the knot of worry in Duke’s heart pull loose. He pulls his grapple out and aims for the highest ledge of Poison Ivy’s greenhouse, tucked in the back of the botanical gardens, then takes off.

Danny is flying next to him immediately, a blur of invisibility, and they fall into a rhythm quickly as they head towards the Bowery. As Duke free runs and swings between buildings, Danny flies around him, the occasional laugh slipping past his lips as he circles around Duke. 

It’s hard not to have his attention stolen by Danny, but Duke is here to protect the people of Gotham, so he focuses 90% of his attention to the streets, keeping an eye and ear out for any trouble. 

There’s not much happening today, thankfully. He’s only had to stop a few burglaries, a bank robbery, and chase off a stalker before Danny arrived. Truthfully, the peace is making him nervous; there hasn’t been a big attack to the city in a while, with no word on the movement of rogues and nothing big brewing among the gangs and mobs. Peace rarely lasts so long in Gotham, and Duke is genuinely worried the next thing will be some continent destroying, apocalypse bringing disaster. 

In the last hour of his patrol, he only has to stop a purse-snatcher and help someone move their broken down car off the street and into a parking lot. Danny stays in the air for both, invisible to everyone but him, and the blur of his aura floats around the areas Duke stops at curiously. 

They hit up touristy places last time he was in Gotham, and food trucks before that. Maybe next time Duke can get takeout from a nice restaurant and they can have a rooftop picnic. 

Not quite a date, not yet at least, but something close to it. A testing of the waters. An unspoken promise for something more.

With the hour ends, Duke comes to stop on the roof of a tattoo parlor and gestures for Danny to join him. 

The blur of invisibility fades away and Danny’s features come back into focus as he lowers himself down to the roof. 

“What’s up?” Danny asks, glancing around them curiously.

“It’s about time for patrol to end, so we can head to the Hatch now. But I do need to blindfold you so you don’t see where the Hatch is located.”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s fine. Will I just have to hold onto you or something? Since I won’t be able to see where we’re going.”

“I was thinking I’d just carry you. It’s easier that way.”

“Sure, that works!” Danny closes his eyes, cheeks already darkening with a blush. “I’ll just… let you blindfold me now?”

Duke desperately wants to smoosh Danny’s cheeks together in his hands, but valiantly resists the urge. He’s on a mission! To hang out with Danny! He can cry about how cute Danny is later!

He walks up to Danny on silent feet, circling around him. Then he lifts his hands, picturing the light solidifying in his palms, turning to fabric that darkens and obscures, bending the light to be darker and darker until it’s nearly black. He gently pulls it across Danny’s eyes, leaning in closer to him to make sure he’s not putting it on too tightly.

Danny gasps slightly when his back bumps into Duke’s chest, and Duke can’t help the way his eyes dart down to Danny’s mouth, his red cheeks, the long line of his neck. 

Focus, he tells himself sternly, and draws the ends of his makeshift blindfold back to tie the ends together behind Danny’s head. 

“There,” he says in a low voice. “All done.”

Danny doesn’t answer. He just leans back against Duke, pressing them together slightly, and Duke brings his hands down to Danny’s hips to hold his steady.

“Ready to go?”

“Ready,” Danny answers in a faint voice. “How do you want me?”

Now that’s a dangerous question to ask right then and there. Duke bites back a number of flirtatious, suggestive answers, and makes himself actually think about the best way he can carry Danny while grappling to the Hatch. He’ll need one hand free to grapple, but also needs to keep a secure grip on Danny…

He steps to the side and guides one of Danny’s arms up to wrap around his shoulders. Then he picks Danny up, leaving him to wrap his legs around his waist as he walks over to the edge of the roof and looks towards the area in Gotham where the Hatch is hidden. Duke takes a moment to adjust his arm to keep Danny secure against his chest, then takes hold of his grapple with his free hand.

“Ready?” he checks, tightening his hold on Danny’s waist.

Danny nods against his neck, tucking his face in the crook of Duke’s shoulder. “Ready!”

Duke grins and jumps off the building, shooting out his grapple as they begin to fall. Danny yelps lightly, then clings to Duke even harder, his blindfold still secure around his head. It’s become a bit fainter as Duke’s attention slipped off of it, but he focuses on it again to darken it and keep Danny from seeing where they’re going.

It occurs to him halfway to the Hatch how much trust Danny is putting in him. To put a blindfold on him. To lead him to a place he’s never been to before. To let Duke swing him across the streets of Gotham without using his own ability to fly. 

Oracle’s apprehension about Danny (and his friends) is a heavy weight on his mind, but he can’t help but think it’s unnecessary. She’d understand if she ever met Danny in person. He wears his heart on his sleeve and offers it so freely; how could Duke not trust him? 

The weeks they’ve been texting each other only make him sure that Danny’s a good person, someone he wants in his life for as long as he can stay, someone he wants to be honest with. They just click, somehow, like they’re each holding a puzzle piece that’s been missing in each other’s lives. 

I think I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet you, he wants to say. But the street entrance to the Hatch is just a block away and Danny still doesn’t know his name, so Duke bites his tongue and forces all those feelings back into more platonic territory. 

Just as the reach the building with the hidden panel to allow him entrance to the Hatch, Duke pulls at the light around them to hide them from sight as they drop down from the sky. 

“Almost in,” he says, holding Danny up with one arm as he tucks his grapple away and push the fake brick cover out of the way to punch in his twelve digit access code. 

A hidden door in the wall of the building, the back bricked off from the operating portion courtesy of Wayne Industries funding the restoration project for this area of the city after a major alien attack, opens up smoothly and without a sound. The ground slopes downward at a steep angle; he uses this door for when he’s riding his motorcycle out of the cave networks underneath the city that keep the Hatch connected to the Batcave, but it’s not too far from where the Hatch itself is. 

He carries Danny in, then makes sure the door closes completely behind him before setting Danny down on his feet. “We’ve still got a bit of a walk to the Hatch, but you can take your blindfold off now.”

“I’ll wait until we get there,” Danny says. “I’m going to use this as an excuse to cling to you for as long as I can.”

“Fair enough!” Duke laughs, “Cling away, I’ll make sure you don’t trip.”

And cling away Danny does, wrapping his arms around Duke’s left arm, holding onto it as they make their way down the tunnel. Duke keeps an eye out for anything that might trip him and carefully steers him past them. 

“Are we underground?”

“Yeah, there’s this huge cave system under the city that we use to get around,” Duke answers. “Though we’ve paved in small roads and made stable tunnels to go through, so it’s all safe.”

“Huh, that’s cool. It would be nice if I had a way to get around Amity like this.”

“Danny, you can fly.”

“That’s not relevant!”

“How is it not relevant?” Duke laughs incredulously, jostling Danny slightly. Danny turns towards him and they trip over each other slightly, clutching to each other to keep their balance.

“It just isn’t!”

They bicker lightheartedly down the tunnel until it opens up into the garage of the Hatch. Duke helps Danny up the stairs to the main area, where he keeps his suit, weapons, and the large computer Bruce installed when the Hatch was first made. Once he’s sure Danny’s comfortable, he leaves to change into his civilian clothes with only a domino mask slapped over his eyes to protect his identity.

And if Duke takes an extra minute to fix up his hair, the long locs in a disarray from being tied back and stuffed into his helmet, then that’s no one’s business but his own. 

Maybe he does need to get a hair cut. He’s starting to get why Steph wants to shave her head and rock a pixie cut like Selena. But, on the other hand, he does like how he looks with longer hair, especially when it’s tied up…

Long hair for now. It makes him look good and he’s here to impress Danny. 

When he heads back to where Danny is, he sees Danny sitting down patiently, his blindfold still on, though it’s become much more transparent than it was before. He can see how Danny’s eyes are closed beneath it, waiting for Duke to return, tapping out a slow rhythm on his knee with his fingers. 

“You can take that off now,” he says as he walks up to Danny. 

“You sure?”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have brought you in here.”

Danny reaches up and gently pulls the blindfold off, slowly blinking his eyes open. He watches as the blindfold dissolves in his hand, becoming light again, then shyly turns to look at Duke. 

“Oh,” he says softly, taking in Duke, who tries very hard not to fidget and reveal just how nervous he is to be out of his Signal armor before Danny. “You are so unfair?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t be kind, a superhero, and attractive! Tell me something you’re bad at so I know you have some flaws.”

Duke grins, flattered. “You think I’m attractive?”

“Stop fishing for compliments!” Danny pushes him lightly, barely enough force to make him tilt to the side. “Give me something you’re bad at, come on.”

“Well, if you really need to know…” Duke takes a moment to think of something that won’t completely embarrass him. “I’m terrible at learning other languages. Vocab doesn’t stick in my head, grammar rules mean nothing to me, and my accent is atrocious.”

“That doesn’t count, that’s normal,” Danny argues.

“It the only thing I can think of right now! I’m just really bad at non-English languages!”

Danny rolls his eyes, shaking his head fondly. “I can’t believe you. You have powers, you’re cute, and you’re good at flirting. Stop winning at life so much, the rest of us stand no chance against you.”

“I promise I���m a disaster when I’m not trying to impress people.”

“Lies. You’re being perfect right now and there’s no one to impress.”

“I’m trying to impress you.”

Danny blinks. “Oh.” He bites his lip in an attempt to force down a smile. “Shut up. I don’t count. You don’t need to try to impress me, you’ve already done that.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I’ll try to be more of a mess around you from now on.”

“Please do, I can’t be the only one making a fool of myself. Where’s the friendship? The solidarity? Suffer with me!”

Duke shoves him back playfully, and just like that, they fall back into a rhythm of easy conversation and light touches, skirting the lines of friendly with something more. Time slips away from him and Duke spends every second with Danny wishing he could have this always, that they didn’t have a time limit over their heads, that the universe itself wasn’t keeping them apart. He shows off the Hatch and some Bat gadgets, which Danny finds fascinating, then they spend an hour comparing their most commonly used powers. 

Danny has to leave all too soon, opening up a small portal of swirling green with the help of a small pocketwatch-like device, and Duke can only hope that they can do this again soon, but without the domino on his face.

One day, he swears. One day they’ll have that.

-

YA menace: hey quickly rate this guys fit

YA menace: [attached photo is a goon with a black and white striped shirt with a purple question mark safety pinned onto it. They’re also wearing neon purple sweatpants and are glaring at the camera.]

YA protag (retired): ngl thats not the worst ive seen. 6/10

YA menace: 6???

YA menace: 6?????????????

YA menace: danny i say this with all the love in my heart, go get ur eyes checked

YA protag (retired): before u say anything else. look at what i regularly have to deal with

YA protag (retired): [attached photo is a floating man with blue-ish skin an d a very dramatic hairstyle. He’s wearing a long black cloak, a white suit, and a Green Bay Packer’s football jersey on top of all that.]

YA menace: damn. no wonder ur judgement of bad fits is Like That. this guys to blame

YA protag (retired): wanna know the worst part?

YA menace: this can get worse??

YA protag (retired): thats my godfather. 

YA protag (retired): this is a man my parents thought were fit to be responsible for me and my sister if anything happens to us

YA protag (retired): THIS GUY

YA menace: u have my sincerest condolences

YA menace: oh shit more riddler guys are here i gtg they got guns

YA protag (retired): be safe!! please dont get shot!!!!

YA menace: i’ll do my best 🫡

-

YA protag (retired): came home today and all the weapons that were attached to my house disappeared

YA protag (retired): i feel like im in the twilight zone

YA protag (retired): if i start talking backwards or acting like a robot pls know it is not me but something wearing my face

YA menace: the weapons attached to ur house???? 

YA menace: im starting there but i want u to know that everything u said was concerning

YA protag (retired): have i not mentioned it before? my parents are kinda mad scientists and make a lot of weird but working things. mostly weapons to fight ghosts.

YA menace: cant believe ure only just dropping lore abt urself when we’ve been talking for so long

YA protag (retired): in my defense!!!! everyone here knows abt them so im used to not having to say anything!!!

YA protag (retired): people usually just Get It!!!

YA menace: moving on to my second point: having the weapons removed from ur house is whats concerning??? not the weapons being attached to ur house???

YA protag (retired): listen. i have spent p much my entire life with a house that doubles as an armed fortress. when i was a kid i was convinced it would come to life and protect me from monsters. this was also during my urban legends monster phrase and i scared myself reading abt them and needed the comfort

YA protag (retired): my POINT is that its normal for my house to have weapons. so seeing them gone is worrying!!!!!

YA menace: .

YA menace: ok fair enough.  last point: is being replaced by a robot version of urself a concern in ur universe? bc it is here

YA protag (retired): no its not a legit concern here

YA protag (retired): probably. dont quote me on that. i had a cloning situation a few years ago

YA menace: a hwat

YA protag (retired): dont worry about it!!!

YA protag (retired): oh my parents are home. i need to talk to them. Bye!!

YA menace: gl!! let me know if u need rescuing from evil clone robots

-

RED: before I say anything else, Signal this is the price u pay for not letting me play with interdimensional tech after you let O have a turn at it.

YA protag (retired): um.

YA protag (retired): wrong chat???

RED: no this is the right chat. Hi Danny :) 

YA protag (retired): hi???? who are u????

YA menace: oh my god

YA menace: this is NOT NECESSARY RED

RED: as I said. U did this to urself.

YA menace: 🙄🙄🙄

YA protag (retired): wait. did u… hack into this chat?? did u hack the phone????

RED: yeah lol.

RED: was a bit of a challenge but it was fun

RED: had to pull out the spare alien tech to make something that would connect

YA protag (retired): ok 1. tucker will want to marry u for ur brain

YA protag (retired): 2. ALIEN TECH?????

YA menace: i feel like we already talked abt aliens being real in my dimension

YA protag (retired): THATS DIFFERENT FROM HAVNG ALIEN TECH

YA protag (retired): hey red what do u accept as bribes

YA menace: u ask him while im right here????

YA protag (retired): u dont have the alien tech. red does. case closed.

RED: oh wow. Signal….. Wow.

YA menace: what? shut up. cant leave any of yall unsupervised i swear

RED: also, Danny I accept tech from different dimensions and also fun tasting sodas and energy drinks

YA protag (retired): done. i will have the goods ready next time i go to gotham, pls hook me up w alien teach

RED: do u just like new tech?

YA menace: hes a space nerd so he loves aliens

RED: do u just wanna meet an alien then?

YA protag (retired): CAN I??!!

RED: yeah I can pull something together for u

YA menace: omfg. Red can u go stop stealing danny from me

RED: up ur game Signal. We’re ALL going to try to steal Danny away

YA menace: how tf do i kick u out of the chat

RED: u cant 😇 im too good to be kicked

YA menace: put that halo away we all know what u really are

YA menace: 🤡

YA protag (retired): omg….. rip red ur cool reputation will be missed

RED: hey now. What happened to the bribes :( 

YA protag (retired): ur still gonna get them but i am playing favorites

YA protag (retired): and signal is obviously my fave

YA menace: knew i could count on u to have my back danny 💛

YA menace: drop ur location red i just wanna talk

RED: lol no

RED: good luck catching me :) 

YA menace: coward!!!!

YA protag (retired): there he goes…..

-

YA protag (retired): hey u know what i just realized?

YA menace: what?

YA protag (real) changed YA menace’s name to Light

YA protag (real) changed their name to Night

Night: rhyming buddies 😄

Light: i get the light bc of my powers but wheres the night coming from?

Night: bc i love space! the night sky!!

Light: ok thats pretty cute ngl

Light: give me some warning bc u do stuff like that its bad for my heart

Night: stop sweet talking me im busy feeling clever

Light: lmaooooo

Light: fair enough i’ll get back to it in 3-5 business days

Night: good 👍

Night: also is now a good time to ask abt red…. who was that….

Light: that was a nerd. dont worry abt him ok im cooler

Light: serious answer: hes red robin and hes another vigilante in gotham. we’re chill

Night: did u find his location for a throw down tho

Light: i can do u one better: i know where he lives

Night: oh???

Light: yeah his dad is my mentor of sorts so its not THAT impressive that i know

Light: i did steal all his zesti tho lol

Night: not sure what that is but im proud of u

Light: its just a drink that hes obsessed w. i love being a minor annoyance 😇

Night: shaking ur hand. its really the best thing to be

Light: hell yeah!!!

-

Light: hey got a kinda serious question for u

Night: whats up?

Light: have u thought abt ur future?

Light: like what u want to do in college, where u want to go after high school, what career u want

Night: i mean. some. 

Night: not as much as my parents want me to. 

Night: my sister goes to harvard and is super smart. im not that impressive so i keep disappointing them

Night: and with things recently… idk its hard. it kinda feels like they dont believe i have a future.

Night: not that they really see me in the present anyways

Night: sorry that was heavy. short answer is no! not really!

Light: that sounds rough. wanna talk abt it?

Night: not really but not talking hasnt done me much good

Night: my sister would want me to talk anyways. to someone trustworthy at least

Night: so if u dont mind listening…

Light: go for it!! im here for u danny

Light: emotionally at least. not physically but thats not by choice

Night: it can wait tho honestly. whyd u ask abt the future? something on ur mind?

Light: just feeling really lost rn is all.

Light: its like everyone around me has an idea of what to do with their lives while im still surprised that i made it as far as i have

Light: this is really the first time ive seriously thought abt my future and i have no idea what to do

Light: so i wanted to talk to u bc u help make things feel less terrifying

Night: signal…. ur going to make me cry

Night: u make me feel brave too

Night: ♥️

Night: i get what u mean 100% btw. u go so long sure that u dont have a future that u dont know what to do now that its here

Light: exactly.

Light: what am i supposed to do with my life? i dont want to be a hero full time, ive seen how that breaks people

Night: do u want to go to college? or do u just feel like u have to bc everyone else is?

Light: i do want to. 

Light: my parents both went and theyve always wanted me to get a degree and be successful

Light: they may not be around anymore, not really, but i do still want to make them proud

Light: they cant see me graduate, but maybe when i tell them the next time i visit, itll reach the part of them thats still alive in their minds

Light: what about u? do u want to go to college?

Night: yeah. it was always my dream to become an astronaut. work at nasa and everything

Night: no chance its ever gonna happen now tho lol

Night: dying and the health problems that comes w that will do that to ya ✌️

Light: oh man that sucks

Night: yeah

Night: i might still study aerospace engineering tho. even if i cant be an astronaut, maybe i can help others get there

Light: thats a good alternative!! im glad u still have some idea of what u can do that can help u work at nasa and achieve part of ur dream

Night: we’ll see tho

Night: im not really feeling college atm. or life in general

Night: idk i feel…. stuck. like nothing will change even if i get out of illinois. it’ll just be the same stuff at a different place

Night: and i know itll take one visit from my parents to start ruining things for me

Night: i just… dont really wanna deal w that. ive kinda given up on life tbh i might as well just focus on the ghostly side of things. stay in the ghost zone more permanently

Light: i dont wanna judge or anything but that doesnt sound healthy?? 

Light: pls dont disappear into the ghost zone. i’d miss u.

Night: sweet talker

Night: i wont. dont worry. its just a feeling i get sometimes, that it’d be better if i wasnt in this world. if i could just go somewhere else

Light: hey. what if

Light: sorry if this idea is stupid or something

Light: but what if u lived here? in my dimension? u could establish a life and go to college here. 

Light: a total fresh start

Night: thats. not a bad idea actually

Night: i would love that. wouldn’t it be hard to do tho? i dont exist there.

Light: we can make it work. its not like us gotham vigilantes are new to creating new identities/lives out of nothing

Light: i could ask for a few favors, do a few dubiously legal things. you could live here

Night: im planning to take a gap year to figure out if i wanna stay in the human world at all. i could spend that year in gotham before making my choice

Night: if u dont mind me asking this huge favor of u

Light: i dont mind at all!!

Light: danny i would love for u to be here are u kidding me. i’d do anything so we could be closer together

Night: thanks signal ♥️

Night: i made this all abt me im so sorry

Night: wanna talk more abt how ur feeling or ur plans for the future?

Light: maybe some other time. i wanna get to work on making sure u can live here for the year (and more! hopefully!)

Light: tell u what. 

Light: we can talk more abt this the next time we see each other in person ok?

Night: deal

Night: im really glad i met u

Light: me too

Light: im here for u for as long as u want me around, honey

Light: u dont need to worry about a thing with me

Night: ure too sweet.

Night: im going to go now before u make me melt into a puddle of feelings

Night: ♥️

Light: ♥️

-

“Hey Babs, I have a favor to ask…”

#ghostlights #duke thomas/danny fenton #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #my writing #dc x dp fic #now to all my other wips! and then the next fic in the series!! #i did make the series on ao3 btw if u wanna subscribe to it #v excited to get into it. i have MUCH to say abt the fenton family and duke's indecision abt his future and duke and dannys relationship!!!

[elryuse]

WANT YOU BACK

WINTER X MALE READER

Tags : Possessive EX GF Winter, Pregnancy, Cheating, Teasing, Creampie, Quickie

Winter choked back a sob, the smoky jazz club blurring into a canvas of swirling lights and pounding bass. Across the crowded dance floor, Y/n's laughter echoed, a sound that once brought sunshine into her days and now felt like a cruel taunt. He was happy. Genuinely, radiantly happy with his new girlfriend, Karina – a vision of effortless beauty draped on his arm.

Regret gnawed at Winter's insides, a ravenous beast that had been growing stronger with every passing day. A year ago, Y/n had been her world. The kindest, most patient boyfriend a girl could ask for. But Winter, fueled by a twisted yearning for excitement and the allure of a "bad boy" fantasy, had thrown it all away. Now, the sight of his happiness with someone else ignited a firestorm of jealousy and a terrifying realization: what if she'd lost him forever?

Panic clawed at her. She couldn't lose Y/n. Not entirely. A twisted plan, fueled by possessiveness and a warped sense of entitlement, began to take shape in her mind. She would get him back, even if it meant manipulation and control.

Excusing herself from her date, Winter weaved through the throng of dancing bodies, her eyes fixated on Y/n. As she approached, she noticed a flicker of surprise followed by a cautious warmth in his eyes.

"Winter??" he greeted, his voice laced with a hint of apprehension. Karina, sensing the tension, shot her a withering look.

"C-can I talk for a minute… alone?" Winter purred, her voice dripping with forced vulnerability.

Y/n hesitated, his gaze flitting between Winter and Karina. Karina rolled her eyes and reluctantly excused herself. Winter led Y/n to a secluded corner, excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

"I-i shouldn't have done what I did Y/n, " she began, her voice trembling slightly. A performance worthy of an Oscar. "You were the best thing that ever happened to my life, A-and I threw it all away."

Y/n, ever the believer in second chances, looked at her with a mixture of empathy and residual hurt. "W-winter," he started, his voice gentle. "Karina and I—"

"I know," she cut him off, tears welling up in her eyes. "But maybe… just maybe.." she trailed off, letting the unspoken suggestion hang heavy in the air.

Y/n sighed, torn between his loyalty to Karina and his lingering emotions for Winter. "Winter, we can't just—"

Winter leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper. "Just one night, Y/n. Let me show you what I've been missing. What you've been missing."

Her words, laced with a desperate yearning, struck a chord in Y/n. Memories flooded back - stolen kisses, whispered secrets, the warmth of her hand in his. He couldn't deny the lingering feelings, the pull of a familiarity that resonated deep within him.

In the dimly lit corner, away from the prying eyes of the club, they fell into each other's arms. The kiss ignited a spark within them, a wildfire fueled by pent-up emotions and unspoken desires. It was a desperate kiss, raw and hungry, like two drowning souls clinging to a lifeline. "I knew you wanted it..". Winter whispers, Her voice desperate of affection.

Winter's touch was a stark contrast to the carefree affection Karina so readily bestowed upon Y/n. Her fingers dug into his back, a possessive hold that sent shivers down his spine. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as their lips met in a frenzied dance. "Fuck Me Y/n.. Fuck me..". Winter begged, as she began to undress.

"W-winter s-slow down". The air crackled with electricity. Winter's eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, flickered with a possessiveness that made Y/n's breath hitch. There was a hunger in her gaze, a desperate need for control that sent a shiver down his spine. This wasn't the sweet affection they once shared; it was a darkness that both terrified and enticed him. "Cum... Cum inside me... Stay with me like this.. Please..". Winter begged, as finally Y/n released strings of his cum deep inside her womb.

As they stumbled back, breathless and flushed, a sense of foreboding settled over Y/n. There was a possessiveness in Winter's behavior that hadn't been there before. He knew this stolen night was no reconciliation, but a twisted game he was being drawn into against his better judgment.

Winter's eyes gleamed with a predatory glint. "This feels like coming home," she whispered, her voice husky with desire before she kissed him once again.

But in the pit of Y/n's stomach, a chilling premonition bloomed. He wasn't sure he was coming home, but rather entering a dark labyrinth, lured back by a love that had turned possessive and manipulative.

Winter cradled the positive pregnancy test in her hand, her emotions a tangled mess. Relief warred with a horrifying sense of manipulation. This wasn't the happy reunion she'd envisioned. This was a twisted trap sprung on Y/n.

The stolen night in the club had been fuelled by desperation, not love. It had served its purpose, though. Winter had him back, tethered to her by an invisible chain: the baby growing within her.

The next morning, she played the heartbroken victim. Tears streamed down her face as she confessed to Y/n about the test. "We can't pretend this didn't happen," she cried, knowing full well he wouldn't abandon a child.

Y/n, ever the good guy, fell into the trap. He felt responsible, obligated. But every visit to Winter's apartment felt like a descent into a suffocating prison. Her possessiveness escalated with each passing day.

"You can't see Karina anymore," Winter declared one evening, her voice laced with a chilling finality. Y/n protested, reminding her of Karina's innocence in all this. "This is between us, Y/n," Winter hissed, a manic glint in her eyes. "You're mine now."

He tried to explain the situation to Karina, but guilt choked his words. In the end, the confused silence and strained distance became too much for her to bear. She broke up with him, heartbroken and bewildered.

Winter celebrated this "victory" with a chilling smile. Y/n was now truly hers, isolated and trapped. She used the pregnancy as a weapon, a constant reminder of his supposed transgression. "Every scan, every milestone," she'd say, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, "a reminder of what we had."

Yet, with each passing week, the facade of happiness wore thin. Winter felt a growing resentment towards the child, a constant reminder of her deceit. But most of all, she resented Y/n. His forced presence, his hollow attempts at conversation, only amplified the emptiness within her.

One night, as Y/n sat awkwardly on the couch, Winter launched into a tirade. "You don't love me! You never did!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. "Y-you just feel sorry for me!"

Y/n, worn down by the constant emotional abuse, snapped. "I do care about you, Winter," he said, his voice tired. "But I can't love someone who holds me hostage with threats and guilt."

His words hung in the air, heavy and final. Winter recoiled, a flicker of fear replacing the anger in her eyes. She might have trapped him physically, but emotionally, she'd pushed him to the edge.

The flicker of fear in Winter's eyes was fleeting, replaced by a cold glint that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. He'd seen that look before, in the dimly lit corner of the club – the predator assessing its prey.

"Hostage?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with a terrifying calmness. "I gave you a chance, Y/n. A chance to be a family. Maybe you don't love me, but you'll learn."

Her next words were a chilling whisper. "Besides, where would you go? Do you really think Karina would take you back after this?"

Y/n's stomach churned. She was right. Shame choked him, muting any further protest. Winter sensed his resignation and a victorious smile curled her lips. This was where the game truly began.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of doctor's appointments, baby preparations, and a suffocating sense of control. Winter micromanaged everything, making Y/n feel like a visitor in his own life. His attempts at connecting with the child felt staged, a constant performance under Winter's watchful eye.

Yet, a strange sense of normalcy settled in. Winter stopped mentioning Karina entirely, reveling in the fact that Y/n was trapped. Slowly, she started subtly chipping away at his support system. A "forgotten" work call from Y/n that turned into a week-long business trip. A "sudden illness" that kept his friends from visiting.

Y/n, worn down by the constant emotional manipulation and guilt trips, barely noticed the isolation. He became a ghost in his own life, existing only to fulfill his "duties" as a father and a reluctant partner.

Years passed. Winter birthed two more children, each arrival a twisted celebration of her victory. Y/n remained a shell of his former self, a ghost trapped in a gilded cage of her own making. Winter, however, thrived. Her possessiveness had morphed into a twisted sense of ownership. Y/n belonged to her now, a trophy on her emotional shelf.

One cold evening, as the older children played in the living room, Winter snuggled close to Y/n on the couch. "See?" she purred, her voice laced with satisfaction. "We have a family now. Just like what you always wanted."

Y/n's eyes, devoid of their former warmth, met hers. There was no love in them, no regret, no longing. The years of manipulation had hollowed him out. He was simply a shadow, a reminder of the love she'd destroyed and the life they could have had.

A cold smile settled on Winter's face. In her twisted mind, this was their happy ending. Her ultimate victory. She had Y/n, and that was all that mattered. The love she'd craved, the genuine connection, was a forgotten casualty in her war for control. Winter had built her prison, bricked with manipulation and guilt, and in the process, had become as trapped as the man she held captive.

#aespa winter #winter #kim minjeong #minjeong x reader #aespa minjeong #possessive #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #yandere #update #kpop smut #aespa smut #winter smut #apreciation post

[cheeseceli]

Dream of you

Pairing: hwang hyunjin × Gn!reader

Genre: angst, a little of fluff, friends to ??

Prompt: "I don't want to want you, but in my dreams I seem to be more honest. And I must admit, you've been in quite a few"

Warnings: none I'm aware of, please feel free to correct me if needed!

A/n: I felt a little bit like a genius in the last paragraph ngl. Let me know what y'all think about it | join the 1K event!

Falling in love with his best friend was not what hyunjin wanted.

Sure, the friends to lovers trope was adorable in books and movies. There's something amazing about the feeling of falling for someone who you know will catch you. It must be an incredible feeling to be understood and loved in the same amount by someone who has been there with you way before any romantic feelings could develop. Then you know that the feeling is real, deeper than the skin and will last longer than a passion.

It is, indeed, an amazing feeling. However, it is way more terrifying than what fiction portrays it like.

He couldn't tell exactly when it happened, when he fell in love with you. He remembers how you got along well with his members and how his mother always asks about you. Even kkami likes you. Maybe he fell for you when he felt you were closer to his world than ever. He also remembers how some acquaintances would constantly ask for your number and how you commented about how jeongin was cute and funny once. Maybe he realised his feelings when he felt that he could lose you forever.

Either way, he felt it was wrong. He didn't want to want you. So why did he feel like he was made for you?

Lately he started to dream about you. He dreamt about how it'd feel to wake up with you and to walk side by side. Sometimes he wasn't even in the dream, the only thing he could see was you and your smile. It was like you were always on your golden hour. You couldn't seem to get out of his mind.

Those oh so romantic nights became sleepless nights after a while, with him not wanting to fall in love with you even after closing his eyes. But that didn't seem to be so smart considering he would spend those late hours on the phone with you, muffled giggles and whispers.

He didn't want to fall for you. He tried to say countless times that it meant nothing, that you were just friends. But he knows it's all lies. He's fallen for good, and the only thing he can do about it is wait for the night to come so he can see you again, be it either through the phone or with his eyes closed.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: 305

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143

Credits for image 1 , 2 and 3

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#celi drabble #celi 1k event #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz #stray kids soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids angst #skz angst #skz scenario #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin fic #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin soft thoughts #hyunjin soft hours #hyunjin