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atlabeth · 2 days

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dance until we're bones

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader

summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.

a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier

wc: 17.1k

warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one

Hotch can barely stay awake.

He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point.

It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel.

He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there.

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always.

Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.”

“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?”

“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”

“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.”

Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”

“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”

“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.”

“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says.

Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”

“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes.

“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says.

“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.”

“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”

“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs.

JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.”

Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.”

The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file.

The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene.

It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house.

They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt.

It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control.

All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.

Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics.

They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it.

They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.

Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.

Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything.

First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect.

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.”

“What has he been charged for?”

“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail four years ago, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”

“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”

“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”

Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”

“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs.

They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind.

The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive.

“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.”

“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh.

Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising.

You.

Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock.

You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford.

“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.

He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.”

Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?”

Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”

“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?”

Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.

“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says.

You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…”

You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house.

It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all.

Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub.

“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.”

“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?”

He nods. “I had a change of heart.”

You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.”

Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”

You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.”

Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Charles area.”

“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him.

“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”

“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”

“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”

And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things:

Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be.

Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school.

“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.

“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts.

“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”

“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says.

You glower at him, but you stay silent.

“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.”

“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”

“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”

He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.”

“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?”

You nod. “He lives with me.”

He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away.

“Why is that?” Hotch asks.

You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too.

“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”

“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going.

“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.”

“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.”

“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?”

Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you.

“Really?”

He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him.

He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her.

And he didn’t even know when she died.

You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad.

“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went five years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says.

You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb.

“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.

“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.”

Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.”

His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even.

“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.”

Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.”

“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.

“No.”

“Do you want them to?”

“...No.”

You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.”

You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”

“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”

You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.”

Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.”

“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says.

You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.”

Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.”

She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door.

Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again.

“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up.

“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?”

“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.”

“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.”

“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.

“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”

Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”

“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”

Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret.

“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”

Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”

“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”

“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.”

Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case—

He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.

You’ve changed a lot. So has he.

And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him.

That’s the only thing that should be on his mind.

“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.”

“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”

“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”

“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!”

Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.”

“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts.

They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”

You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief.

“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”

You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe.

“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused.

“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”

“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss.

“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”

Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”

“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”

“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”

“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”

“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”

“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”

He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.”

“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.”

“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses.

You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once.

“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”

“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”

“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck.

“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”

“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”

You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve got that right.”

He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on.

“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”

“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”

“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity.

“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”

Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs.

Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world.

“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”

“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.

“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”

“Looks like it.”

You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air.

(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)

You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger.

Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it.

You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.

They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing.

All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people.

And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong.

You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you.

Because god— what are the odds?

What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother?

It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years.

It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time.

If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant.

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”

“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you.

“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.”

“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties.

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you.

“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?”

“Not one for small talk,” you remark.

“I never have been.”

“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.”

You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now.

You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face.

“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”

“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.”

“Rent or own?”

“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”

“What inspired the move?”

“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.”

“And home is?”

“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.”

“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says.

“Sources can lie.”

Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.”

Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.”

He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up.

You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had.

You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened.

“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”

“None of those sound like questions,” you say.

“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“You don’t know,” he repeats.

“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I don’t ask questions.”

“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it.”

“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.”

Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?”

“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“You didn’t tell him—”

“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?”

He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse.

“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.”

“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.”

“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.”

“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?”

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.”

“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply.

Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly.

“And you’re wrong, by the way.”

“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken.

“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.”

And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you.

“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.”

“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.”

“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”

“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.”

“...I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least.

“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.”

Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.”

You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.”

“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.”

You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron.

“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“You know th—”

Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.”

The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.”

He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file.

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”

You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking.

“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.”

“The profile—”

“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.”

“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly.

He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this.

For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right.

You have to be right.

The room feels even colder.

Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do.

You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him.

Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room.

“She does not like you.”

“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie.

“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.”

“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands.

Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor.

“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.”

“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”

“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.”

“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him.

And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him.

He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things.

“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”

Morgan frowns. “Explain.”

“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”

“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”

“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.”

“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again.

“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.”

“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.”

“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”

“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.”

Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation.

“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.”

They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego.

“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.”

Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside.

He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”

You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch…

Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore.

Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you.

“They sent a new one in,” you say.

“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”

You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual.

“I can imagine.”

He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off.

“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.”

“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.

He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation.

The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time.

Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks.

When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”

He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”

“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks.

“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says.

She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”

Hotch isn’t sure yet.

But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong.

Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier.

It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once.

You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron.

You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s head as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard.

You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you.

It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round.

You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed.

Aaron says your name, and you hum.

“Are you listening?” he asks.

“Of course,” you say.

“Your eyes are closed.”

“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?”

You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly.

“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully.

Your eyes open and you frown.

You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.

It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate.

“Yeah? What’d she want?”

“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”

You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.

“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”

“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.”

“...Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?”

He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”

“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.”

Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?”

“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron.

You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction.

But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up.

“Go for it,” you finally say.

He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?”

“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.”

You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you.

“Thank you,” he says.

“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.”

He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything.

You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand.

Sometimes you need reminders.

“I love you too.”

“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.”

“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs.

Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third.

No one expected this to happen so soon.

The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt.

Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work.

An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation.

Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved.

He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it.

Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press.

Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.”

He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”

“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.”

Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.”

“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on.

“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.”

The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight.

JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city.

The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information.

“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.”

“What are they?” Hotch asks.

“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says.

“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks.

“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.”

“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”

“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.”

Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.”

“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests.

Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.”

“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?”

“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.”

“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully.

Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.”

“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.

“And?” Hotch asks.

“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.”

Hotch frowns. You?

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.”

“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again.

“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.”

“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.”

“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up.

“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.”

“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.”

Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.”

Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died five years ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail last year.”

“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.”

“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.”

“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.”

“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.”

“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.”

“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.”

“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says.

“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”

“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods.

Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him.

“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says.

“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks.

“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.”

And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him.

“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”

“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him.

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?”

“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.”

“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.

“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?”

He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—”

“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.”

“What would I do without you?” he asks.

“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.”

“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up.

Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him.

Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze.

“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind.

“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.

“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”

And he does.

You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear.

Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale.

A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame.

Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner.

It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff.

Of course you have to deal with this now.

Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down.

“You’re already packed.”

You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.”

“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning.

“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask.

His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says.

“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks.

“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?”

His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.”

“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.”

Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit.

“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”

“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him.

“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?”

“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head.

You take the box from him and smile thinly.

“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”

You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open.

You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.

“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, “I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”

His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.”

“They haven’t been back, have they?”

You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail.

Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”

“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests.

“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.”

He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops.

“Did you go to class today?”

“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff.

“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”

“Yes,” he mocks. “I went to class.”

“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.”

His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”

You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”

“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit.

“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.”

“I agree with you,” he says.

“That’s it,” you muse.

Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up.

“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.”

“...Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.”

“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?”

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”

“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”

“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”

You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to.

“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”

“I think? I was in jail, so.”

You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.”

“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”

He frowns. “What’d you say?”

“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.”

“What have they said about me?” he asks.

“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…”

You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.”

You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.”

“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.”

“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.”

You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home.

“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”

Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up.

“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”

Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.”

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before.

You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard.

Then, there’s nothing.

Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is.

The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at.

It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims.

If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”

“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters.

“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”

“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?

You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that.

It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him.

It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.

Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that.

Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”

“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?”

“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.”

“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.”

“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”

Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching.

“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”

“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”

“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”

“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up.

“What?”

“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I… I know how important this is to you.”

Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”

“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”

Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night.

And now…

Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not.

“Thank you, Garcia.”

“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?”

For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it.

“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.”

“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.”

“Thank you,” he says.

“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly.

Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him.

“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.”

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words.

It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why.

You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes.

Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs.

Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?

Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—

“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze.

“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.”

“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.”

Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.

You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body.

You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life.

And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now.

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.”

He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.”

“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?”

“...You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.”

“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.”

“Family’s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.”

“I’ve always believed in you,” you say.

He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.”

“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.”

You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises.

“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”

You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother had divorced him by then, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided.

“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?”

“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!”

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.”

“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”

“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.”

All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to.

Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly.

When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget.

Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out.

You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here.

You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now.

“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.”

“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.”

He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.”

He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.

“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”

Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.”

“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says.

“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”

“Put the gun down,” he repeats.

“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.”

“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.”

“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?”

“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.”

He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you.

“Put the gun down,” another agent warns.

“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”

“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think.

“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?”

“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.”

Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave.

“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.”

“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.”

“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”

“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”

“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?”

“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.”

Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.”

“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.”

“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.”

“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.”

“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”

“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you.

“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.”

You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you.

And then it happens so quickly you barely process it.

There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground.

You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you.

Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him.

Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force.

Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead.

The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake.

Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”

A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms.

“I know.”

Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment.

“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.”

You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers.

But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron.

“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!”

You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours.

“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.

He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete.

“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.”

And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name.

It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die.

You wake up in the hospital alone.

You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you.

The real surprise is that you wake up at all.

Lucas is dead.

He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded.

You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real.

You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life.

You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day.

Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all.

You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life.

And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind.

He was going to kill you.

Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU.

Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner.

The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him.

“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you.

But there’s relief there, too.

He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside.

“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly.

Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.”

“And how long have I been here?”

“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.”

You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”

“How bad was it?” you ask.

Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…”

“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.”

He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.”

Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.

“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”

“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?”

Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start.

“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.”

“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.”

“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”

“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.”

You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!”

“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.”

“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—”

You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same.

“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper.

You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life.

“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.”

“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues.

“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”

He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number.

“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.”

You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner.

“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.”

“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…

Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together.

“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.”

“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.”

“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit.

“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.”

“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.”

Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.

“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out.

“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume.

“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.

Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.

“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.”

Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down.

“Okay.”

And he stays.

This time, he stays.

#i was truly possessed while writing this i can't understand it #i wrote 15k words in 5 days #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner imagine #sadie writes

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xzaddyzanakinx · 2 days

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Not That Kind of Guy

Part Ten: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, oral, dick piercing, spit, back shots, GEN. SMUT[Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is so annoyed with his mother. He discovers something and Ghost has plans for it. [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: August 16th

I thought for sure you’d kick me to the curb. But just like always, you never fail to amaze me. You like the side of me that no one else does, you like both of me, that’s a miracle if I’ve ever seen one.

I don’t even like both of me.

You chose me, for whatever reasons you might have, pure curiosity or genuine care and interest… I don’t really care. All I care about is that you chose me. You want me. Me. All of me.

You’re choosing both of me. Separately. But soon you’ll love both sides of me, you’ll love me as a whole. That’s something no one has ever given to me. No one has ever wholly loved me, partially because I’ve never shown anyone all of me, partially because I used to fail miserably at balancing the black and white of my being.

Anakin the perfect boyfriend and future husband deserves your daylight love. Ghost the purposely imperfect and probably less than sane guy deserves your midnight curiosities.

I like this. Separating myself this way, it’s more manageable. I’ve tried for years and years to just be Anakin who is always pretending to be the man of the year, but is still just a tad too… off putting.

To everyone back home, I’ll always be the strange guy who only had two friends, himself and the neighbor kid who was only such good friends with him because they grew up in close proximity.

Anakin, the weird kid who didn’t know how to smile properly.

Anakin, the creep who stared too much, not at anything inappropriate. I wasn’t leering at women or anything, it’s just creepy for people to be looked at by someone who has ‘dead eyes’ and ‘doesn’t blink enough’.

Anakin, the ‘well he’s trying’ boy. The poor little guy who brought Brianna a handful of nettles on the playground, tied together with worms. ‘He meant well! He’s trying to be nice sweetie.’

Anakin, the ‘turn out your pockets before you come inside’ kid. You come home with a dead squirrel in your hoodie pocket once and your mother will never trust you not to have another stashed somewhere.

‘hey, it’s not that I don’t think you’re great! I do! You’re just not… great for me.’

‘please don’t look at me like that, it makes me uncomfortable’

‘Get away from my yard, I know what you’re doing!’

‘Who’s cat is that? Anakin! Where did you get this?’

‘Ani, you can’t keep doing this. I can’t protect you forever!’

��Don’t you want to have friends? A girlfriend? To grow up and have a family? Don’t you want that?’

I was always Anakin-weird as hell, psycho, town freak-Skywalker.

In your daylight love I can be Anakin-nice guy, perfect smile, warm hugs-Skywalker.

I can shove everything else into The Pit until I’m ready to put on that Ghostface mask and take off my mask of normalcy. Weird isn’t it? Putting on a mask just to take off another one?

I like it though. I really like it.

I can be normal for you. I can. I can be normal. As long as Ghost can be let out of The Pit sometimes. No more balancing on the edge for Anakin. No more hiding and pretending and suffocating myself with the act of being a person.

If I can flood Anakin with all the things I’ve learned over the years, all the knowledge I’ve stored away in my mind’s filing cabinets… then you can have the man you deserve.

You’ll just have to come to terms with the fact that once Ghost makes his appearance, your Anakin is gone until further notice.

I think you’ll do well with that. You’re already handling it swimmingly.

Diary Entry: August 17th

You left me a note of your own this morning, a question I wasn’t expecting in the slightest. When I walked into the kitchen and finally cracked open the diary you’d left laying there for me I was shocked. Absolutely and completely shocked.

‘When are you coming home?’

You’re asking Ghost to visit you? For real? I don’t even know how to react, I never thought you’d be the one requesting the company of my masked presence. I guess giving you an option, proving your feelings and your well-being mattered most to me was the right move.

Now I just have to figure out what I’m going to do. I’ll have to plan. I need to think.

I have to be so much more careful now.

Date

August 18th

This is the first time Ghost hasn’t responded when you’ve contacted him. It’s been three days of nothing. He’s not been inside your house at all, no gifts, nothing has been moved, your cat’s bowl is empty when you get home.

His absence is more unsettling that his presence.

You’re beginning to wonder if you’ve angered him by asking about his next visit, was that the wrong thing to do? Did it freak him out? Asking about his plans… did it make him uncomfortable? Or is he tired of the chase now? Now that you’re interested… is it possible he’s lost the adrenaline rush of it all and he won’t be back at all?

There’s no time to ponder or worry right now, yet here you are staring into the foggy mirror in your bathroom post-shower.

“Hey sweetheart?” Anakin’s cheery voice floated to you from under the door.

“In here!” You called out, opening the door up and wiping off the mirror, grateful to have been pulled out of your mind.

“Want help picking something out?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your middle, pressing his nose to the crown of your head to smell your freshly washed hair.

“Mmm yeah if you want.” You nodded, smiling at him in the mirror.

“You excited?” He grinned, poking your sides to hear you giggle.

“Yeah… a little bit nervous though to be honest.” You confessed.

“What? Why? They’ll like you, I have no doubts.” He said with a reassuring squeeze to your shoulders.

“I know, it’s just… what if they don’t?” You asked nervously, looking away from his intense gaze in the mirror.

“They will.” He whispered kissing your temple.

“But what if they don’t?”

“They will, but, if for some reason they don’t then they’re stupid.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But I know they will okay?”

“But Ani I’m worr-“

“Hey.” He said sharply, catching the words before they could leave your lips. “That’s enough.” He said in a softer tone.

He sighed, grabbing the hair brush from the sink countertop. He started brushing through your wet tangles, starting at the ends and working his way up.

“You’re important to me. They know that.” Anakin whispered, kissing your shoulder. “They know you’re something special, trust me. I’ve never brought anyone to meet them before.”

“Seriously?” You whipped your head around with a horrified expression on your face.

“Yeah seriously.” He nodded. “I’ve never felt like this for anyone else.” He gently directed your head back to face the mirror so he could continue brushing your hair.

“That makes it even worse!” You squeaked, slumping over against the sink, your arms crossed on the cold Formica top with your forehead rested on them.

“Why?” He asked as he sat the brush aside and placed his hand on your back, rubbing up and down the soft fabric of the towel around you.

“I’m the first girl you’re bringing home!” You said exasperatedly, “they’re gonna be expecting someone like… like super great and amazing.”

“You are super great and amazing.” He laughed, squeezing your hip and patting it gently.

“But-“

“Baby stop.” He said softly. “You’re gonna work yourself up all over nothin’. Please, just trust me okay? They’re gonna think you’re perfect.”

“Okay.” You sighed, standing back up and turning around to hug him tightly. “Alright. Let’s get ready then.”

“I’m ready.” He said gesturing to his tight grey crewneck and ripped black jeans. “All fancy and shit.”

“I wouldn’t say fancy, but I would say hot.” You grinned.

“Stop.” He chuckled, “should I go change? I can’t have you drooling over me at the dinner table with my parents.”

“No, no don’t change.” You shook your head with a giggle. “I can wait.”

“You can wait?” He gave you a devilishly toothy smile. “Wait for what darlin’? Does baby need some attention?”

He picked you up and sat you on the sink counter, giving your ass a firm squeeze. Immediately bringing one hand to your cheek, his thumb on your chin, he tilted your head to the side and hovered his lips just over your skin. Barely grazing the softness of his lips up the length of your neck to the dip beneath your ear. His free hand rubbing up and down your side, as he finally pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss to your sensitive flesh.

“My girl only waits when I say so.” He whispered, nipping your earlobe.

He nuzzled into your neck, bringing your ass to the edge of the sink with one arm, using the same hand to slip beneath your towel and travel up your abdomen. The towel fell from where it was tightly tucked at your chest, Anakin’s hand cupping your breast gently as he thumbed at your nipple.

His lips soldered to yours in a passionate caress of lips and tongues, you could taste the minty flavor of the gum he constantly chewed, the forever lingering ghost of cigarettes and the delicious savory flavor that was uniquely him.

He was so good at distracting you with his mouth on yours that he could get away with just about anything and you’d never know until it was too late. Just like now, when you heard his belt buckle clank against the bathroom tiles. You couldn’t help but smile, it was something so simple, but it was one of your favorite things.

The sound will forever be associated with every kiss, every touch, every gasp and breath he’d given you and every intimate moment to come. The jangle of his belt buckle coming loose meant falling apart in his arms, it meant love without saying it aloud.

Anakin snickered as he teased your opening with one finger, swirling it around the outside, never fully dipping inside.

“Greedy little pussy.” His deep bedroom voice never failed to conjure up a gush of slick to your already drenched cunt. “So fucking wet already.”

“Mhm.” You nodded, wiggling your hips closer to his hand or at least you tried to, Anakin held you firmly in place, tsking at your attempt.

“See? Greedy.” He chuckled but gave in anyway, finally pushing in one digit to twirl around your gummy walls while he pumped in and out slowly.

“Can’t help it.” You panted, breathing heavily despite the relief of getting what you wanted, you needed more. “Missed you Ani.”

“Oh poor thing, I missed you too.” He cooed, adding a second finger while he rolled his wrist as he thrusted his fingers deeper.

Just as you were about to speak again, the shrill sound of your phone alarm blared next to you on the counter top, making you both jump.

“Jesus! what the fuck.” He snorted, “pause baby.” He said as he reached over to turn it off and check the time.

“I’m so glad you set shit like that or else we’d never get anywhere on time.” He said with a smile. “Now, hop down and let me bend you over.”

“What we’re doing a quickie?” You teased as you did as requested, sliding off the sink and obediently bending at the waist for him.

“As much as I hate it, yes.” He sighed. “You know I like to take my time.”

He said as he rubbed his rough palm over the swell of your ass, tugging his boxers down with his other hand. He shoved his palm under your chin and tapped your cheek.

“Spit.” His voice was rough and gritty, like he he was straining, fighting not to ram himself into you right that very second.

You spit into his hand, earning a mumbled: “Atta girl.”

He slicked his cock with your saliva, stroking himself quickly with the head of his cock pressed to your entrance, pleasuring himself but just torturing you with the heat of his length.

“Ani!” You whined, pushing your hips back against him.

You’d done exactly what he wanted. The second you pushed back he rammed his cock deep inside your pulsing heat. He set a brutal pace, wrapping one arm around your chest. Your hands instinctively flew up to hold onto his muscled forearm, his grip tightened and you gasped in surprise.

“Christ Anakin.” You breathed out, your eyes wide with shock at this sudden change of pace.

He was a slow and sensual lover, he liked to take his sweet time and caress every curve and kiss every centimeter of flesh that he could reach. But this was completely different, this was pure hunger, hips snapping against your ass at a punishing pace.

His other arm came down your stomach and spread your pussy lips apart to press and pinch the little hard nub that would have you shaking beneath him.

The way he was breathing so heavily in your ear, the hot air fanning over your cheek, it only heightened the feeling. Sending goosebumps down your skin and perking up your nipples again. The sound of your wetness was loud enough to hear with each and every plunge of his cock.

“You like it like this baby?” He chuckled, “sounds like you like it.”

“Uh huh.” You nodded rapidly, gripping his arm tightly as a particularly sharp streak of lightning shot through you.

Your pussy clenched down around his cock and you closed your eyes to concentrate on the feeling the metal jewelry at the tip of his cock gave you as it stroked your insides roughly.

“Making such pretty noises,” he moaned, tilting your head back and to the side using your hair, to properly reach your mouth so he could ravage you with his tongue just as he was with his dick.

“C’mon baby, let me hear it.” He panted, sucking your lip between his teeth.

“That’s it, yeah there’s my girl.” He laughed, watching your eyes roll back until just the whites were visible. Your eyes fluttered shut as your cunt pulsed around him.

“Fuck… Fuck that’s- right there… please?” You whined, trapping his hand right where it was with your fingers digging into his wrist.

“Good manners.” He praised, licking along the length of your jaw. “Good manners baby, so proud.”

“Just like this huh?” He questioned teasingly, a smirk on his lips caught your attention in the foggy mirror. “You like the piercing don’t you baby? Feels good doesn’t it?”

“Fuck yeah.” You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut tight while you waited for him to push you over the edge. “L-love it. Don’t ever fucking take it out again.”

“Sure thing baby.” He snickered. “You ready sweetheart? Getting close aren’t you?”

“You can cum.” He said as you nodded, his forehead now resting on your shoulder as he drilled into you, rolling your clit between his finger and thumb.

The coil that had been wound tightly in your core snapped with his permission, a high pitched groan eeked out from between your gritted teeth, your cunt leaking down his shaft as he fucked you through the high.

“Lean down.” He said as he pulled out abruptly, leaving you gaping and gasping for breath.

“Perfect.” He groaned, one hand on your waist as you pressed your torso against the sink counter.

He stroked his cock wildly, his fingers digging into the plush of your waist, squeezing soothingly when his chin dropped to his chest and he stiffened up, holding his breath. All you could hear was the sound of his slick hand pumping his swollen length over your ass.

Until finally you felt the warm spurts of cum splatter on your skin, the viscous fluid dribbling down your lower spine until it slid over your ass hole.

“Fuck, that looks so damn pretty.” He breathed heavily, standing back to take in his art work.

“I should take a picture.” He whispered, kneeling behind you with a hand under each ass cheek, he licked up his own cum with a satisfied hum.

——————————————————————————

Approximately an hour after Anakin defiled you in the steamy confines of your bathroom, you were walking hand in hand into one of the nicer restaurants on the outer circle of the city. Meeting his mother terrified you, his stepfather not so much. Anakin didn’t grow up with him, he wasn’t a staple of his childhood.

But his mother was. She was a single parent, worked so incredibly hard to provide for herself and her son. She made sure he had everything he needed and then some, she was truly a saint.

“Chill out.” Anakin whispered, squeezing your hand gently. “You’re okay.”

You nodded and silently let Anakin pull you along behind the host who was leading you to the table where his mother and stepdad waited for you both.

You laid eyes on his mother first and the smile that spread across your lips was genuine. As soon as you saw her your worries started to slip into the backseat of your mind. She exuded a calming atmosphere, she seemed so serene and unbothered. What you’d give to live life like that.

You could see where Anakin got his comforting nature from, especially as she stood up and extended her hand to you. The gentle smile and warmth in the crinkle of her eyes was enough to melt your heart.

“I’m Shmi.” She introduced herself in a soft tone, looking to her side where her husband sat. “This is Cliegg, Anakin’s stepfather.” He gave you a nod and warm smile after clapping Anakin on the back in an awkward side hug.

“It’s great to meet you guys!” You chirped, introducing yourself quickly.

“You too sweetie.” Shmi smiled, moving to envelope her son in a hug.

“Hey momma.” Anakin chuckled, squishing her shorter frame in a big bear hug. “Miss ya.”

“Missed you too hon.” She said quietly, patting his chest before returning to her seat.

She gave Anakin a little smile of approval when he pulled your chair out for you to slide into, you wanted to gush about how grateful you were that she’d raised him to be such a gentleman but you got the feeling that she already knew.

The four of you engaged in a bit of small talk while looking over the menu options, you refrained from even picking up the menu, getting an odd look from Cliegg who just chuckled and shrugged his shoulders as if to say ‘suit yourself’. The waiter returned with ice water for everyone and a bottle of wine for the table, getting ready to take orders with their pad and pen at the ready.

After Anakin’s mother and her husband ordered, Shmi looked at you expectantly but you just gave her a small smile as Anakin ordered for the both of you.

“Anakin.” She chided him after the waiter left. “She’s perfectly capable of speaking for herself.”

“I know she is.” He said firmly. “But she shouldn’t have to when I’m perfectly capable of doing it for her.”

“Shmi it’s okay really.” You laughed light, knocking Anakin’s foot with your own as a warning. “I prefer it honestly. I think it’s sweet.”

She gave you an odd look, her face was soft just as it had been the whole night so far, but her eyes conveyed something that you couldn’t quite place.

“Alright sweetie.” She conceded and nodded, the look passing over her eyes just as quickly as it appeared.

Anakin’s arm slid around your waist momentarily to offer some comfort, gently squeezing your hip and tapping his thumb rhythmically while he jumped straight back into the conversation he was having with his stepdad.

“So, Anakin’s told me quite a bit about you.” Shmi said warmly. “He said you’re a waitress and you’re taking classes at the college?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” You nodded happily. “The Bluebird Diner, it’s a real great place. Anakin’s a big fan of the butterscotch pie.” You smiled.

“The college… yes I’m taking classes. They’re all going well but I’m not set on a major yet and it’s getting to be the time that I decide.” You sucked in an anxious breath, giving her a nervous look.

“Well that’s perfectly fine.” She said, surprising you with her acceptance of your unplanned career. “I dropped out after my freshman year and didn’t complete my degree until Anakin was in highschool.” She explained.

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow, glancing at Anakin’s side profile while he spoke to his stepfather. “Do you mind if I ask why?”

“Why I dropped out?” She asked, leaning back in her chair. “Well it was for a few reasons. Mostly because it’s difficult to work, educate yourself and raise a child alone.”

“I can imagine it would be.” You agreed with a humored smile, expecting to be met with a similar expression by Shmi.

Though you weren’t, instead she had a strange sort of reminiscent look about her. Not the fuzzy feeling of nostalgic reminiscing, more of a moment of remembering something unpleasant.

“Yes.” She nodded, “Anakin didn’t make it any easier.”

“Oh…” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at her sudden shift in demeanor.

It seems she noticed your body language change and she quickly corrected herself by breaking out into a smile, sitting back up straighter in her seat.

“But what kid doesn’t?” She laughed lightly, reaching out to pat your hand affectionately.

“Right,” you nodded, chalking up her strange switch up as a mother remembering her rowdy son. It must be hard, seeing him grown up and finally bringing a girl to meet her.

“So how did you two meet?” Shmi asked, turning in her seat to face you fully, giving you her full attention. “Anakin said you’re neighbors?”

“Yeah! Yeah that’s how we met officially.” You nodded.

“Officially?”

“Well we found out after we’d talked a few times that we actually met at the bar he works at.” You explained, “he made a drink for me. I thought he looked like… semi-familiar, you know it’s hard to miss the tattoos.” You smiled.

“Oh that’s very true.” Shmi laughed. “Definitely stands out.”

“Yeah, so we officially met the day he was moving in across the hall from me.”

“Oh you’re telling her about move in day?” Anakin cut in with a big grin on his face.

“Mhm.” You nodded happily, gazing at him with a hint of adoration in your eyes. “Anakin had his stuff strewn out in the hallway and I knocked over a stack of his books.” You laughed and he squeezed your shoulder lightly.

“Yeah, then we chatted for a bit and she noticed a book of mine that she’d lost her copy of, so I gave it to her. That’s how I snatched her up.” He said proudly, gesturing to you with both hands like he was presenting a trophy.

“Huh, who knew you had a little romantic streak?” Cliegg laughed.

“Oh he definitely does!” You agreed eagerly.

“Well Anakin I have to say: I’m extremely impressed you’ve found such a lovely girl.” Shmi said softly, glancing at you with those warm eyes.

“Took you long enough.” His stepdad smacked his upper arm with the back of his hand with a deep laugh.

“Hey, I was holding out for the right one.” Anakin said with a satisfied smile. “I wanted my forever girl and I found her.”

——————————————————————————

The rest of the night went smoothly, no hiccups, no awkward moments, nothing you’d worried about came to fruition. His mother was as sweet as could be and her husband definitely suited her well. All in all, you were happy to have had the opportunity to get to know them. You were proud to be the first girl worthy of meeting them and you were thrilled that they seemed to like you as much as you liked them.

“See? Told you.” Anakin whispered, walking beside you out of the restaurant.

“You were right.” You sighed. “Nothing to worry about.”

“I was what?” He fake gasped, one hand coming up to cover his mouth dramatically.

“You heard me and I’m not repeating it.” You giggled, bumping him with your shoulder.

“Good enough for me princess, I’ll take it.” He smiled, pulling you close and pressing a chaste kiss to your hair.

You said your goodbyes to Anakin’s parents just outside the entrance, a full, loving hug from Shmi and a ‘you’re great but we’re not there yet’ double hand squeeze on one of yours from his stepdad.

You’d just started walk to the car when Shmi called out to Anakin, causing you both to swivel around.

“Ani, sweetheart can you come talk for just a second?” She asked sweetly.

“Oh… yeah okay.” He nodded, handing you the car keys.

“I’ll go see what’s up baby.” He said with a soft tone, “go ahead to the car.”

You followed instructions and did exactly as he asked, climbing into the passenger seat of his car and starting it so you could listen to the radio while Anakin was gone. You didn’t think much of it, it was probably just a bit of an after dinner debrief.

Anakin jogged over to his mom and leaned against Cliegg’s truck while he climbed in, leaving just Shmi and Anakin to speak alone.

“Ani she’s a wonderful girl.” Shmi said, squeezing his arm gently.

“Yeah she is, she’s perfect isn’t she?” He gushed, his pupils widened at just the thought of you.

“Yes-“

“She’s just… everything. She’s everything to me.” He continued, picking up his mothers hand.

“Just w-“

“I mean I really believe she’s the one mom.” He squeezed her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles in an affectionate way. “Really I do, she’s perfect. I- I’m so glad you guys like her, I knew you would of course but she was just so nervous and-“

“Anakin!” Shmi said sternly, her voice quickly going back to a calm tone after getting his attention.

“Anakin, sweetie, I’m so glad you’ve found your person.” She started slowy, holding eye contact with her son’s intense gaze. “I’m proud of you, you know that don’t you?”

“Yeah of course-“

“I’m proud of you. You’re a good boy honey.” She said quietly, “she’s a sweet girl, she deserves the best.”

“Well yeah she does, of course she does and-“

“Are you being your best?” Shmi asked him, her voice turning hard, alittle sharp. “Swear to me, Anakin. Swear you are?”

“Yes mom.” He sighed as though he were expecting this conversation.

“Are you still taking your medicine? Seeing your doctor?” She asked worriedly.

“Really?” He scoffed. “Please, let’s just drop it. This was a good day, please don’t ruin it by worrying over nothing.”

“Are you though?”

“Yes!” He hissed, clenching his teeth tightly. “Yes I’m still seeing the doctor and taking the stupid pills, yes.”

“Good. Very good.” She breathed a sigh of relief at his compliance.

“Don’t ask me if she knows.” Anakin said sternly. “She doesn’t.”

“You can’t just keep that from her, she has a right to know Anakin!”

“It’s not the right time for that.” He raised his voice slightly. “She doesn’t need to know yet. I’ll tell her on my own terms.”

“But you can’t-“

“I said: I’ll tell her on my own terms.” He breathed deeply, keeping his temper in check. “Please mom, just… just be happy for me okay? I’m doing really good, I’m happy. Please just let me be happy.”

“Alright.” She sighed, nodding slowly. “You’re right. I’m sorry sweetie, I shouldn’t have questioned you like that.”

“It’s okay. I know you worry.” He mumbled, pulling her into a hug, his hand rubbing between her shoulder blades.

“I- I just so badly want you to be happy.” She said quietly. “I want you to be safe, happy, and loved. You deserve to be loved.”

“I am loved.” Anakin whispered, his voice rough, “You love me. Cliegg loves me. Owen probably loves me. I think she might love me too.”

“You think so?” She asked in a brighter tone.

“Yeah, I do.” He nodded, pulling back with a soft smile.

Diary Entry: August 18th

I love my mother, but she worries too much. Talking to me like I’m some child to be coddled and babysat. I don’t need her or anyone else to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, especially when it comes to you, my little doe.

I know what’s best for you, for our relationship, and it’s my opinion that you don’t need to burden yourself with my past transgressions. I’m a changed man, what I did as a teenager, as a kid, has no reflection on who I am today.

Telling you about it is out of the question. At least for now… but, it’d probably be for the best to never, ever speak of it. I just don’t see the point in sharing something like that with you when it would cause your pretty little head to worry over something so irrelevant to the present.

Not to mention the stupid fucking doctor. It was ridiculous, asking me such a personal question when she knows very well that it upsets me when she interrogates me like that. It’s none of her business anymore, I’m not a child, I can take care of myself.

If anything, her questioning and distrust makes me want to do it even less just to prove that I can live without it.

I don’t need to see a fucking shrink if I’m taking the pills right? It’s overkill to do both. I don’t need to talk about my feelings, I don’t need to tell a stranger all about my past and the questionable things I’ve done. That’s why I have a journal and I think it suits me just fine.

Just another reason why I love you so much. You’ve helped me by getting me into writing stuff down instead of keeping it bottled up. You’re responsible for the thing that helps keep me from spiraling, you should be so proud of yourself, showing me this A+ coping skill.

It’s way better than: ‘Breathe in… breathe out… focus on your surroundings and count the things you can see and feel.’

Like what the hell is that? What’s that supposed to do? Distract me? Yeah right.

It can’t distract me from what’s going on in my head. Not when it’s so much all at once, all the time. It was exhausting to pretend that something like that was working for me. Journaling is so much better. So much easier.

It’s real and it’s tangible. I can flip through the pages and return to the good things, or I can skip over the bad stuff but take comfort in knowing that I was able to write it down.

So fuck the shrink, I’m not going back. I haven’t been in months and I’m doing perfectly fine.

Diary Entry: August 20th

I cannot for the life of me figure out what the hell I’m going to do. I’m grasping at straws here, trying to figure out how to handle the Ghost situation.

I can tell you’re getting annoyed.

How am I supposed to respond? I know it’s been days but I can’t bring myself to answer the texts, the notes, the questions shouted into your otherwise empty home.

Hopefully you’ll understand, though I acknowledge that you have every reason to be upset with me. I’m assuming you’re feeling some sort of betrayal after the letter… I hate that. I really hate it. But it’s unavoidable.

You responded extremely well to my offer and the opportunity for a choice. So I’ll just do that again. That sounds reasonable, I’ll give a bit of an explanation, little apology and then I’ll let you choose what happens next.

This is what happens when I don’t fully plan ahead. I fuck things up and then it’s just a gommed up mess.

Then the whole situation with my mother really threw me off. It just added another layer of ‘what the hell’ to my already high stack of self imposed problems.

I want to do something. I need to do something. I have shit to get off my chest.

Date

August 22nd

Finally, finally Ghost has gotten back in contact with you.

Now that the little grey envelope is sitting on your nightstand… you almost don’t want to open it. After all the silence on his end it’s impossible to guess what he has to say. Though as you’re convincing yourself not to open it, it’s found it’s way into your hand.

LETTER

Little Doe,

My absence was unexpected for you as well as myself, for that I apologize. I would go into detail if I could but unfortunately we both know that I can’t do that.

Let’s just say that my life got a bit complicated and I had to take a moment to iron things out. Now that everything is starched and pressed it’ll be back to business as usual.

While I was gone I took some time to consider your question as well. So I’ll match you with a question of my own.

I’ve been… stressed to say the very least. I don’t like to be destructive, I’m not that kind of guy. So I was wondering if you’d help me out, give me a bit of an alternative rage release?

Don’t lie, I know you’re curious. I know you want me just as badly as I want you. I bet you’re wet just reading this, aren’t you? I think it’s high time for you to be conscious enough to really enjoy everything I’m giving you. Don’t you agree?

I heard you like it rough. Is that true princess? I’ll give you rough, just say the word and I’ll make sure you’ve got marks that’ll last for weeks.

Next half of the question: here or elsewhere?

You sure do love to show off that little body of yours. I wonder if that would translate over into your sex life if you’d let it.

Your choice little doe.

——————————————————————————

‘He did not just ask me that… did he?’

You stared at the letter in your hands, your mind going well over the speed limit on the road to rational thinking. It was tempting, oh so very tempting. He’s right of course, he always is, you are curious. You do want him, maybe even need him.

It’s obvious he’s more than capable of giving you what you needed, what you wanted. The man had you feigning for him for weeks with no relief, all from teasing you, all while you were unaware.

It would be… interesting to see for yourself in the waking world what he’s done to you in dreamland. It’s alright if it’s for research purposes isn’t it? Is it really cheating if you don’t know the person at all, his identity is a complete mystery; that should count for something right?

Just a smidgen of a mitigating factor would be enough to sway you to say yes.

“Hey.” You called out, waving your hand as if he were there with you and you were trying to get his attention. “You listening?”

*Ping* a text came through almost immediately: ‘Always.’

“You’re serious about this?” You asked, holding the stationary in one hand, gesturing to it with your other.

‘I’m always serious.’

“Right.” You sighed, pulling your legs up to sit cross-legged. “I don’t think this would be very kind of me to do. I just met Anakin’s mother, our relationship is getting serious.”

‘Congrats. What does that have to do with my need to fuck you?’

“Uh everything.” You scoffed. “That’s cheating. I don’t want to cheat on him!”

‘Defensive are we?’

“Yes,” you hissed, scrubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand, “very defensive for good reason.”

‘I admire your loyalty, but be honest with yourself little doe.’

“I am being honest! I don’t want to cheat on him!” You shouted back.

‘You didn’t say that you didn’t want me to fuck your though.’

“Christ.” You mumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I didn’t say that. You’re right.” You conceded.

‘Then it’s a yes?’

“Not necessarily.” You snapped, the true answer was right there, clawing away in the cage of your teeth.

‘So no then.’

“That’s not what I said.” You said hastily, alittle too eager to correct him.

‘I see.’

“What?” You scoffed, staring at the message that’d popped up.

Another followed, this time a voice message. You hesitated before pressing play, holding your phon up to your ear to hear it clearly. His gravely distorted voice washed over you in all its unholy temptation.

“Don’t worry little doe. I know just what you need.” He paused for a moment as if considering something, “It’s been a while since you’ve had a night out. Go have some fun, I’ll catch up with you.”

“Oh no. Absolutely not. You’re not knocking me out cold again.” You said angrily.

‘Of course not. I want you to be awake for this.’

“Then… then why do you want me to go to the bar?” You asked suspiciously.

‘Surprise :)’

“Fuck.” You muttered, rubbing your temples before picking up your phone to message Luke and Han, as well as your good friend from book club.

“Just to be perfectly clear: I’m not saying yes!” You said, looking around the room with a red tint to your cheeks.

‘Not a no either.’

You could practically hear his voice, that teasing tone you knew all too well. What an ass, a stupid sexy ass.

DATE

August 24th

“Oh look at you princess.” Anakin whistled wrapping his arms around your waist when you walked out of your bedroom in a sweet little pink dress.

“Pretty, pretty girl.” He mumbled and he nuzzled into your hair, taking a deep breath to smell the scent of your shampoo.

“Oh hush,” you giggled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “can’t be saying stuff like that, you’re gonna get me all flustered.”

“What if I want you to be all flustered?” He chuckled, tipping your head back to capture your lips and invade your mouth with a gentle caress of his tongue.

“Mmm taste as good as you look baby.” He whispered, his words fanning over your bottom lip and straight down to your core.

“Anakin…” you whined, looking up at him and wishing for mercy.

“Shhh don’t whine.” He laughed, pinching your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “I’ll quit teasin’… for now.”

“But you do look gorgeous you know?” He said sincerely, very lightly touching your cheek so as not to mess up your makeup.

“Thank you Ani.” You said shyly, leaning up on your tip toes to kiss his nose.

“So what’s the plan again? Dinner at that one Thai place you like? Then you’re going to the bar?” He asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter, his hands resting on the countertop at his sides.

“Yep that’s the plan.” You nodded, checking your bag to ensure you had everything you needed.

“Call me when you get there? You’re walking aren’t you?” He asked, looking at you with a gaze of concern that warmed your heart.

“Yes I’m walking and yes I will call when I get to the restaurant and I’ll text when I’m leaving.” You promised, tossing your mini backpack over your shoulder and giving him a hug and soft kiss.

“Alright sweetheart, I’ll see you at the bar.” He said in a low tone, smoothing out your hair as he held you close for a moment longer.

You left your home and Anakin behind, trotting down the steps to the city streets below. A walk would be good for you, plenty of time to think and plenty of time to clear your head of those thoughts before you reach your destination.

——————————————————————————

Diary Entry: August 24th

I’m so excited. I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited to do something for you.

I know it’s a bit presumptuous, but I think I know you fairly well and if you’re reading those nasty, raunchy books on your bookshelf… well I think it’s safe to say you might be interested in some of it for yourself right? You already think a man in a Ghostface mask with a knife is sexy.

I’m gonna give you what I think you like. I know I will love it. I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time but I was always alittle too chicken to do it. Even before we started dating, before you knew about Ghost. It’s been a fantasy of mine that I’ve thought of way more often than I’ll ever admit.

But now I have your unspoken permission, well at least your non-denial of it. Which isn’t technically consent but who cares; it’s been so blurred between us already.

Honestly its super comforting the way that you so vehemently defend our relationship. I’ve never had someone go to bat for me like that before, it’s endearing. It makes me feel cared for, loved, needed.

I know it’s hypocritical, trust me I know that; but it does kind of get on my nerves as well. I want you to say yes and say it enthusiastically to Ghost. At the same time I want you to scream and kick and tell him to fuck off.

Being jealous of both sides of myself is frankly quite exhausting. I don’t know what I want other than you. I just want you. I want you to want both of me and you do, but that’s also a problem.

You think I’m two separate people and that makes me a tad worried.

The only comfort it brings me is that you aren’t enthusiastically saying yes. You’re denying the truth of course, we both know that. But you’re also keeping some loyalty to our relationship and for that I am so eternally grateful.

I love the way you love me even if you haven’t said it aloud just yet. You will soon.

——————————————————————————

Your group of friends were gathered outside the restaurant, as the last one to arrive, you of course received a light dose of good natured insults and chiding.

“There she is!” Your best girl friend Sam yelled, pointing you out to Luke and Han as you walked up the sidewalk.

“Finally! I’m starving!” Luke sighed liked he’d been waiting hours, according to your phone you were still two minutes early.

“Shut up and let’s get some food.” You snorted, pushing him through the door and into the yummy little Thai place.

After getting settled into your cozy corner booth you placed your orders and slipping into the familiar routine of gossiping and story swapping.

“How did meeting the parents go?” Luke asked, propping his chin up on the heel of his hand, his fingers drumming along his cheek.

“It went so smooth and oh my god his mom is so sweet.” You said, leaning forward in your seat.

“I was so worried they wouldn’t like me, but I think they did. Anakin said they did, I mean they really seemed to at least.” You nodded.

“Oh I’m sure they loved you. You’re the perfect girl to bring home to the parents. You’re the whole package.” Sam smiled warmly.

“You’re too sweet, giving me way too much credit.” You sighed, your smile faltering slightly.

“Anyway… yeah his mom was great. I think she was just alittle worried you know? I’m the first girl he’s brought to meet them so I feel like there was a bit of worry there at the beginning.” You explained, talking with your hands.

“She was talking about him as a kid and she just looked so… sad I guess?” You sighed, trying to find a better word to describe it but came up short. “So I think maybe she was just sad about him growing up, finally finding someone he wants to be serious with.”

“That’s so sweet.” Sam said, squeezing your hand. “I didn’t realize you were the first girl he’d brought them.”

“Yeah,” you nodded proudly. “He said he was waiting for the right one.”

“Ew that’s so gross.” Luke gagged.

“Fuck off.” You tossed a good natured insult at him, rolling your eyes despite feeling an immense sense of accomplishment… maybe a hint of guilt there too.

After the meal was finished, you all walked together out of the restaurant and set out on foot toward The Cerulean. A leisurely pace was set by Han and Luke who were happily at the head of the group while you and Sam hung back just a few steps behind.

“So he’s gonna be here tonight?” Sam asked curiously.

“Oh, yeah but he’s working though.” You said.

“Wait really?” She asked in surprise. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would that bother me? If anything it’s comforting.” You scoffed.

“Well he’s like… he’s just there you know? Not participating he’s just gonna be watching.” She made a displeased face.

“Trust me, I have no qualms with being… looked out for.” You smirked.

“So you don’t mind that he’s going to be watching you the whole night?”

“No, I don’t.” You shrugged, walking the through the door as Luke held it open for the two of you to enter.

You broke off from your friends in search of Anakin, you spotted him behind the bar, animatedly speaking with a coworker that you vaguely remember Anakin referring to as ‘Trev’.

It was like you had some sort of homing beacon, Anakin immediately whipped his head toward you and beckoned you over with two fingers. He trotted around the bar to meet you halfway, sliding his arms around your waist to pull you flush against his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“How was dinner, pretty girl?” He asked, his voice low and smooth.

“It was good!” You chirped, squeezing him tightly again before he let you go. “Told them allllll about meeting your parents.”

“Good things only I hope?” He laughed.

“Of course. Good things only, always.” You nodded with a big smile.

“It’s not nearly as busy in here as usual.” You observed, scanning the large space and noticing a much lower head count than the times you’ve been here before.

“Oh I know,” Anakin nodded, “there’s some kind of opening anniversary for a pub downtown. Free beer or something like that.” He shrugged.

“Huh, well I’ll have to tell Han.” You said.

“Mhm yeah I’m sure he’d enjoy it.” He agreed, “you going too?”

“No, I’m going home when I leave here.” You shook your head.

“Alright baby, listen, I gotta go back.” He nodded toward the bar. “You know where to find me.”

With that he gave you a chaste kiss to the forehead and quickly walked back behind the counter, stealing a drink order right from under Trevor’s nose as he slid in front of him, you heard him snicker and the *thwap* of a towel snapping against his leg in retaliation as you walked back to your friends.

You spotted them off to the corner, Sam speaking with a shorter man you’d never seen before. You snuck behind her with a cheeky grin and tugged a lock of her hair gently as you passed by, she was unfazed, simply giving you a pink cheeked smile.

“Hey Han,” you called out to get his attention as you drew closer, his head following the sound until he saw you. “You know there’s a bar even going on downtown tonight?” You asked, coming to a stop just in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s at The Drunken Horseman.” He nodded, “I think a few of the guys were headed out there actually. Free beer.”

“W-well why didn’t you go?” You asked in confusion, knowing he wouldn’t have just passed it up for no reason.

“Cause a little lady I know likes it better here.” He grinned, tapping your forehead with his pointer finger.

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that Han.” You said, feeling a bit guilty. “You should’ve said something!”

“Whoa, don’t get all riled up. I don’t mind it at all.” He reassured you. “I can still do plenty of people watching from right here.” He said, knocking his knuckles against the table top he leaned against.

He waved his hand over to the left, your eyes following the gesture until your gaze was met with a younger guy, unapologetically and unsuccessfully trying to speak to a group of girls despite being seemingly incredibly wasted.

“I guess that’s true.” You laughed lightly, the pull of guilt still tugging at your guts.

“Listen, after we’re done here you should go!” You encouraged, “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t get to do something that you wanna do.”

“Babes it’s no big deal.” Luke said, popping out from his seat behind Han’s massive frame. “I think we planned on skipping out a bit early to do exactly that.”

“Really?” You sighed in relief. “Good, I’m glad.”

“We did?” Han asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Uh yes, we had a whole conversation about this yesterday you oaf.” Luke scoffed.

“Oaf?” Han let out a loud, bellowing laugh at Luke’s poor attempt at an insult, making a little smile creep up the corner of your lips as well.

——————————————————————————

You decided collectively to call it a night just a little before 11:00pm so that Luke and Han could still catch Han’s group of friends at The Drunken Horseman. You said your goodbyes to them at the door and turned to face Sam after watching them leave.

“Are you positive you’re okay with walking home alone?” She asked you worriedly, “like absolutely positive?”

“Yes, I’m absolutely positive.” You said with an appreciative smile. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Okay.” She nodded, satisfied with your answer.

“You better do the same.” You said, catching her arm as she started to leave with the man she’d been chatting with all night.

“I will,” she signaled for him to wait while she got up close to whisper to you, “I looked him up when I went to the bathroom earlier. Arrest records and everything.”

“Good.” You grinned. “Have fun then.”

You spun on your heel to find Anakin and tell him goodbye, heading straight to the bar and catching him in another conversation. This time with a female patron that you’d seen before.

“I don’t understand.” She scoffed.

“What don’t you understand?” He scowled.

“I just don’t get why you’re mean to me!” She huffed. “I come in here all the time and I’m always nice to you, yet you’re an ass every time I speak to you!”

“Then stop speaking to me.” He said flatly, pretending to inspect a glass that he was drying.

“I should report you to management.”

“Please do.” Anakin shot back.

“They’ll fire you, for being rude to customers.” She threatened, crossing her arms.

“They’ll ban you, for harassing employees.” He snorted.

“God. You’re ridiculous, I asked you out one time-“

“Yeah and it was one time too many.” He snapped at her.

“I have a beautiful, wonderful, amazing girlfriend.” He said sternly. “She is my everything and you, are nothing.”

“Like she’s-“

“Listen. Even if I didn’t have a girlfriend I wouldn’t go after a whore with loud ass mouth like you.” He snarled. “Leave. I’m banning you myself.”

“You can’t do that!” She yelled

“He can’t do what?” His coworker Trevor came over quickly after hearing her shout at Anakin.

“He- he’s trying to ban me.” She said angrily.

“What did you do?” Trevor asked the girl and looked over at Anakin.

“Nothing! I was just trying to order a drink and he called me a whore!”

“I did call her a whore.” Anakin willingly admitted with zero remorse.

“Wait is this the one?” Trevor asked.

“Yeah, she’s been bugging me, Jason and Stevie for the last few weeks. Comes in every now and again and won’t take a fucking hint from any of us.” Anakin grunted as he glanced over at her.

“That’s not true I w-“

“Nope. That’s enough.” Trevor said, obviously irritated, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her.

“Hey you can’t do that!” She shouted trying to grab his phone.

“You’re going on the wall honey.” He said, thumbing over his shoulder at a cork board of banned patrons.

“You’re serious?” She scoffed, “you can’t be serious.”

“Deadly. Now get out.” Trevor barked, following her angry path across the bar to ensure that she did in fact leave.

“Baby?” Anakin’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you realized you’d been standing there with your mouth open as he tapped the underside of your chin.

“Anakin you didn’t tell me it was that bad.” You said, eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him, now standing in front of you.

“Ah.” He grumbled.

“I didn’t want to worry you sweetheart.” He said softly, taking both your hands in his. “She’s not coming back now so nothin’ to worry yourself over.” He said with a reassuring smile.

“That’s just awful though. She was doing that to three of you?” You asked in disgust.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Doesn’t happen often. Usually it’s April and Jess who get the creeps but every now and again there’s a girl who does it.”

“How much did you hear baby?” He asked, pushing hair from your face and holding your cheek.

“Just the tail end of it.” You lied.

“You know I’d never even entertain something like that don’t you, princess?” He asked, lines of worry etching into his forehead, “Never, I’d never even breathe in the direction of another woman.”

“I know.” You said with a small smile, you were being truthful. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind about his faithfulness, especially now after witnessing him tear into a girl over it.

“I know I have nothing to worry about.” You said, giving his hands a squeeze.

You might not, but Anakin does. Anakin does have to worry about your faithfulness whether he knows it or not; there’s a Ghost haunting every corner of your life that has no plans on leaving anytime soon.

“Good.” He said with a warm smile, pulling you into a hug. “Are you leaving?” He asked, pulling g back slightly.

“Yeah I’m headed home now.” You nodded.

“Alright pretty girl.” He said, kissing your forehead. “Be good. I’ll see you tomorrow. Text me when you get home?”

“Of course.” You nodded with a big smile that faded as soon as you turned around to leave.

——————————————————————————

“I saw your girl leaving, you headed out now?” Trevor asked Anakin as he was untying his apron.

“Yep, I’m leaving too.” Anakin nodded, folding the apron and tucking it under the counter. “Unless you need me to stay?”

“Thanks for coming in to help out man.” Trevor said, clapping him on the back. “We got it from here.”

“No problem, you know I don’t mind.” Anakin said, grabbing his wallet and keys. “See ya.”

Anakin left hastily stopping at his car in the back parking lot to grab his essentials. He checked his phone and saw that you’d made an unexpected stop at the little corner store for what he assumed was a snack.

“Perfect.” He grinned, tossing his hoodie over his head and switching out his shoes.

He tucked his mask under his arm and hopped into his car, parking it up the road a bit closer to where you were, just to get it out of his work parking lot. He jumped out, locked it and slipped into the nearest alley. He grumbled but hopped the fence at the end and continued down until he hit the opposite street, running parallel to the one you’d be taking.

“One… two… three… four… there.” He mumbled to himself as he passed by alleys between buildings until he found the one he was looking for.

This particular place was perfect for his purposes, no cameras, no foot traffic, no dumpster, a brick wall on one end and a recessed entrance to the building on the left. A building that was currently up for lease, leaving it tenant free. He scaled the short brick wall on his side of the alley, using the dumpster there as a boost.

Anakin’s sneakers hit the pavement with a satisfying noise when he dropped down from above. He tugged on his gloves and mask, hitting the side button on the voice box while he walked up the alleyway, his phone in his hand.

Your little blue dot was quickly approaching and his adrenaline was running high. His body practically vibrating in anticipation of what he was about to do, with your footsteps in audible range he tucked his phone away and bunched up a black handkerchief in the palm of his leather glove.

Your long shadow came into view, the lamppost casting it down on the side walk below. It shortened with each step you took. Seeing no shadow behind you, no other footsteps, Anakin knew it was safe to enact his plan.

The very second you came into view he lunged forward, clapping his hand with the bandanna in it over your mouth. Instinctively you parted your lips to scream, allowing him to shove the fabric in your mouth as he dragged you by waist and under your arms as you kicked and thrashed.

Part Eleven

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jordyn14 · 2 days

Note

Hey

Can you please write a Joe x wife reader where Joe and reader have been trying to get pregnant for a while and then reader finds out their pregnant and tells Joe in a cute way and he can’t contain his happiness

Pairing: Joe Burrow x fem first person

Words: 1600

Notes: since it’s my bday week and I’m having so much fun writing, I’m trying to get out fics a little faster this week! :)) thanks for the Request. <3

My eyes filled with tears as soon as I flipped over the pregnancy test and saw those two blue lines on the ClearBlue test. For 7 whole months Joe and I have been trying to get pregnant. We started after our wedding, hoping to see those two blue lines within two weeks, but two weeks turned into a month, and one into seven. Every single time we flipped over that test and saw one line and not two, we tried our best to stay positive, but it was hard. There were so many tears and I felt like we should just give up. I didn’t know how many more times I could take Joe’s same speech over and over again about how no matter how long it took, we would have our little family one day.

But now I was pregnant. I didn’t have to look into Joe’s eyes and tell him we weren’t pregnant for the millionth time. I didn’t have to stare into Joe’s blue eyes while he tried to hold back tears of sadness and watch as the hope was slowly draining from him.

As I looked up at myself in the mirror, tears rolled down my face and onto the counter under me. I was going to be a mom. It felt surreal to look at my stomach and realize that there was a little growing baby inside. I put my shaking hand over my mouth and I couldn’t stop looking at those 2 blue lines and at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t believe it. I felt like I was on top of the world and thinking about telling Joe in just a couple of hours when he came home from practice overjoyed me. “I’m pregnant.” I told myself, not able to contain my excitement.

For the next two hours, time seemed to be going so slow. Every time I looked at my phone and expected a half an hour to pass, only ten minutes passed. I was restless. I wanted to tell Joe so badly. I wanted to see the look on his face when he realized he was going to be a dad in just nine months. Not only were we going to be parents together, but I would get to raise a child with the most amazing man ever who isn’t just easy on the eyes, but is an incredibly person inside and out.

When I finally got the text from Joe saying he was on his way home, I practically sprinted upstairs and to my nightstand drawer where I kept a little mini Joe Burrow jersey and laid that down on the bed with the test on it. From the moment we started trying to get pregnant, I knew that I wanted to surprise him with his little jersey for our little son or daughter to wear when they’re born.

I sat on the bed and tried to pick through my different emotions. I was nervous, anxious, happy, worried, but mostly excited. Excited to be a mom. Excited to start our little family. From the moment I fell in love with Joe, I knew I wanted to create a family with him and now that was becoming a reality. Before we knew it, we’d have a little mini Burrow running around the house acting like a fool, and I couldn’t wait. Hey, maybe I was even carrying twins.

Before I knew it, I heard the front door swing open and just like clockwork, Joe said, “I’m home.” As soon as he said this, I couldn’t hold back the tears and started to cry some more. I just couldn’t contain the excitement. “Jordyn?” Joe called out, sounding a little worried, wondering why I wasn’t running over to give him a hug and ask him how his day was like usual. I wiped off a tear and sniffled back the tears a little bit. “Up here.” I answered him and stood up to meet him by the door. As I walked to the door frame, I could hear Joes footsteps getting closer and closer. My heart beat so incredibly fast in my chest and I couldn’t stop smiling.

As soon as Joe came into view and saw me crying, he dropped the bag that he was holding immediately. “hey, hey, are you okay?” He asked me and wrapped my in his arms. One hand was placed around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and the other was placed on the back of my head. With a smile, I wrapped my arms around his neck, running my fingers through his hair he decided to grow out for the season. “Everything is more than okay, Joey.” I said. Once I said this, Joe pulled back to look me in the eyes and once he did, I noticed the slightly confused look on his face.

Leaning forwards, I placed a small kiss on joes lips and then let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding in. “Go look on the bed.” I said. Joe looked past me and at the bed and noticed something laying on it, but I could tell he was still confused. Dropping my arms from around Joes neck, he slowly let go of me as well and walked closer to the bed. I followed after him, waiting for him to realize that he was going to be a dad.

A small gasp left Joe’s lips as the realization that I was pregnant set in. I couldn’t help but smile as he reached down and grabbed the pregnancy test. After a few seconds, I walked to the side of him and watched as he ran his fingers over the mini jersey while holding the pregnancy test in his other hand. As I studied Joe’s face, I started to get nervous. There was almost no emotion or expression on his face. What if he changed his mind about kids? What if he didn’t want me to be pregnant right now.

Before I started to freak myself out more, Joe looked over at me with those gorgeous, tear filled blue eyes. “Oh wow.” Joe said simply as his bottom lip began to quiver slightly. I sucked in a breath at his reaction and started to cry more myself. Joe put his hand on his chest and took a step back, taking everything in. He kept looking at me, then the pregnancy test, me, then the pregnancy test. “I’m going to be a dad?” Joe asked me excitedly. “You’re going to be a dad.” I said, wiping off a tear that streamed down my cheek. The both of us started crying more as he closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around me. Without me expecting it, he picked me up off of the ground gently and spun around in a circle, a little excited laugh leaving his mouth. I giggled while up in the air before he placed me back down on the ground.

Once down on the ground, we both held each other so incredibly tightly, so overwhelmed with the news. I buried my head in Joe’s chest and I could tell he was crying quietly. Unlike every other time we flipped the test over, they were happy and relieved tears. After so long of trying and feeling like nothing would work, he was finally going to be a dad. “I can’t believe this,” Joe said and pulled his head back, revealing his red eyes and nose, “our little baby’s in here right now.” He said, letting out a deep breath while looking down at my stomach.

It was hard for me to talk because of the tears. I opened my mouth to say something, but I knew if I tried to talk I would cry harder. With a smile, Joe took his hands off of me for a second and swiped his thumbs under my eyes to catch the tears before holding my face gently in his hands. He nodded with a small smile, letting me know he understood what I wanted to say. Letting go of Joe, I did the same thing and swiped under his eyes, getting a laugh out of both of us before gently grabbing his wrists, the both of us just gazing into each other’s eyes. I took a deep breath and let it out with a small laugh.

“We’re gonna be parent’s, Joey. Can you believe it?” I asked him. Joe just shook his head and looked back at the pregnancy test. “No. No, not really.” He chuckled and sniffled a little. “At least we know why you were sick this morning before I left for practice.” Joe said. “I totally thought it was those crab legs, they looked a little bit odd.” I giggled. Joe laughed and nodded. “They did look a bit funky didn’t they?” As we looked into each others eyes, Joe looked at me like I was the most beautiful, fragile, perfect women on the entire planet before closing the distance and placing a kiss on my lips. When we pulled away, we rested our foreheads together while making eye contact. “I love you…and our baby,” Joe said and looked down at my stomach, “more than anything in the entire universe.” Joe said. “Even SpongeBob?” I joked with him. “Yes, even SpongeBob.” Joe laughed and nodded. “Well in that case, I love you…and this baby,” I said and glanced down at my stomach like Joe did, “more than anything in the entire universe as well Joseph Lee Burrow.” I said.

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nonranghaes · 1 day

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it's weird that you don't call out to jun when he comes into your apartment. jun knows that you know he was coming over at some point to spend time with you, and usually you greet him in some way when you hear the apartment door unlock. he's a little earlier than he planned, but you told him to 'come over whenever' and now he's a little worried that you didn't mean it. he quietly slips into the pair of slippers that stays here at your place, and makes his way further into your apartment to set down the bag of groceries he brought on your kitchen counter. your bedroom door is open, but the tiny room you use as a home office is open just a sliver.

he makes his way over, leaning in to listen for a moment... only to hear your voice. there's a little strain to it as you struggle through a sentence, and it clicks all at once: you're speaking chinese. albeit not very well (it's clear to jun that this is one-hundred percent new to you), but you're still trying. your pronunciation is a bit clumsy, but he can hear the way you try to use the right tone with what you're saying...

when did you start learning this much? jun had taught you little things in the past--the absolute basics, really, plus a few other little phrases that veer into his own cheesy need to hear you say sweet things--but this...? he steps back from the door. why hadn't you told him? you could have told him and he'd happily help you learn. but he trusts you: you must have your reasons to keep this a secret, so he won't push. he steps away, deciding to busy himself with getting ingredients put away--or set up for the two of you to cook together, in case you're hungry now.

then he knocks a cup into the sink, and immediately he hears you coming out of your office. relief crosses your face when you see it's just jun, and you lean against the open doorway.

"i didn't know you were here." you pause, and then he sees you get hit with realization. "... how long were you here?"

"i just got here," he says. it's technically the truth, isn't it? he's only been here for a few minutes. "were you working?"

you nod. "yeah. just had to answer a phone call," you lie to him, but he just nods and acts like he doesn't know that. you come up to his side, wrapping an arm around him. "is this for lunch?"

he leans over to you and presses a kiss against your cheek. "are you hungry?"

"mhm," you just snuggle in for a moment, enjoying his presence. "you should teach me more recipes you learned from your mom sometime."

jun finds himself smiling already. was that what this all was...? an attempt for you to understand him better? to show that you care for him so much that you want to know his culture, too? "i'd love to," he says softly, and wraps an arm around you to tug you closer to his side. "only if you teach me things you learned from your family, too."

then he'll make more efforts to understand you and your background, too. just to show you that he loves you as much as you love him.

#nonranghaes.thoughts #nonranghaes.svt #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #jun x reader #wen junhui x reader #junhui x reader #jun fluff #junhui fluff #also im just gonna ramble for a second. if i ever get to the point where i feel more comfortable speaking..... god i wish id have a jun #to help me learn the language better. its been interesting to learn so far!!#i def need to start taking notes tho bc guess who cannot count <3 #anyway i fucking love learning languages. inject tht shit directly into my veins.#yknow the post with all the pills w associated abilities??? id be downing the one that lets u speak all languages like. immediately

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scarletwinterxx · 2 days

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morning with birthday boy - dad jeno scenario

Helllloooooo so i got this request for our birthday boy🥺🤍 extra fluffy for this very special day. Hope you like it!!!

omggg pls pls make a jeno dad scenario for his birthday, maybw surprising him or something ?? 🥹🥹🥹 imagine him having a son who looks exactly like him when he was a kid 😭😭

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You and your son woke up early to make birthday pancakes for the birthday boy. It's a tradition that started years ago when you and Jeno started dating, he knew you loved pancakes so he took you out for breakfast and surprised you with a tall stack of your favorite pancake with a pink candle on top.

Now years later, here you are in your kitchen cooking pancakes with your son, Geonu, about to surprise your husband.

Geonu, now two years old, is at that age where you can let him join the fun. You love cooking and baking so usually he'd be right beside you as your little helper.

"Mommy, owy" his term for chocolate, pointing at the bowl of chocolate chips

"Want to put the choco chips? Okay, you do it like this" you carry him up, showing how and where to sprinkle it. You let him get a handful before you do the same, a few got stuck between his fingers and he immediately taste it

"You silly boy, you only wanted to get the chocolate huh" you tickle him, eliciting giggles from your little boy. Geonu is a splitting imagine of Jeno, when he was born and Jeno's mom said he look3d exactly like Jeno when he was born. And as the years passed by Geonu's showing more resemblance with his father.

Your favorite one being their identical eye smile.

You finish cooking the pancakes, fixing a stack to surprise Jeno with. Carrying the plate in one hand and Geonu with your other.

Opening your bedroom door, you see your husband still fast asleep. His bare back towards the door, you set Geonu on the bed and he immediately crawls towards his dad. Climbing on his back and laying his head right on Jeno's head.

Jeno feels something on his cheek, something settles on his back too. After a few seconds he can feel something wet on his cheek, a tiny voice gurggling.

A smile appears on his face before he could even open his eyes. He peaks with one eye, turning to see you at the edge of the mattress with a plate of pancakes and his son giving him his morning kisses

"Good morning, happy birthday baby" you tell him. He carefully move Geonu from his back to his lap, sitting up to blow the candle

"Geonu, let's make a wish. Okay 1 2 3" the little boy blowing the candle with Jeno, you sit infront your boys watching them with smitten eyes

"Thank you, baby" he tells you, leaning over to give you a kiss

"So how does it feel to be a year older?"

"I'm only a few months older, this would be you soon" he teases you back

One of many birthdays you've celebrated together and now you have your little bundle of joy to celebrate with. There's really nothing Jeno would wish for, he already has everything he needs. He used to wonder if settling down was something he'd do, he didn't really see himself as a family man. He's fine being on his own until he met you.

Ever since then, there isn't a moment he wanted to be alone ever again. He knew he was going to spend the rest of his birthdays with you the moment you smiled so big at him at that breakfast diner a few years ago.

He finally knew what real contentment feels and it's this. Mornings with you and the little boy who is equal parts of him and you. Celebrating birthdays with a tradition the two of you made.

"Let's have breakfast downstairs, I made eggs and bacon and coffee" you tell him, getting Geonu from then standing up from the bed.

Jeno sets the plate down on the bedside table before giving you a hug by the waist. Your hand finds his hair, giving him a half hug.

"I love you so so so much" he mumbles, looking up at you

You lean down to kiss him again, after a few seconds you feel a hand separate the two of you making the two of you laugh

"Uhhhh what is this? She's mine before she was yours" Jeno tells his son, giving his tummy tickles.

"Okay okay let's go get breakfast, we have a full day ahead. You go get dressed" you tell Jeno, knowing full well what's underneath the sheets

He smirks at you, waving as you walk out the door

After a few seconds you peak your head by the door, "I love you too" you say then you walk away. Jeno smiles, his eyes disappearing as the familiar feelings envelops him again. Like he's falling inlove with you for the first time again.

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norrizzandpia · 18 hours

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hey, totally ok if it’s not ur vibe, but i’d love to see an oscar fic where he’s helping his girlfriend or a childhood best friend when she’s feeling a bit down.

i keep thinking about that man helping clean a depression room and telling his girl not to be embarrassed and he’s there to help and they get it sorted and he just holds her. makes sure she’s eaten and drank something.

even if it’s just a drabble, i’d really appreciate it :) need that kinda care in my life rn, even if it’s fictional.

I made this girlfriend because it just felt softer idk

To Be Loved Is To Be Seen (OP81)

Summary: Oscar knows his girlfriend well and it’s obvious to him when she starts breaking down. He’s happy to help or, more specifically, remind her how worth it she is.

Warnings: this one is HEAVY on the family trouble, depression, anxiety, VERY ANGSTY but def cutest HAPPY ENDING

Note: i didn’t know if you wanted reader to be in a rut or have a reason for it so i just made a reason

Y/n’s first few months of university were hard. Not only was it due to the new course load, but also because of her parents lack of interest when it came to her life. It had been a gradual shift, starting from her last two years in high school and only getting stronger as time went on. They had always been there, overbearing at times, but, now, they posted pictures of their trips around the world, failing to answer her calls and texts. She felt selfish for wanting her parents’ attention as much as she did, but it was hard to fight. There were situations she had never dealt with before, she wanted her mom’s wise words and father’s funny remarks to get through it all. But, she sat alone in the darkness of her room without the guidance counselor she usually could count on. It felt as if she wasn’t enough to keep them there anymore. It was heart wrenching and it stewed within her at such volumes, it became too much.

That’s when Oscar noticed. Her boyfriend had always been attentive, noticing small things about her that no one else did, but the second her smile didn’t reach her eyes and her text messages became less frequent, it was almost as if he was staring her down in anticipation of some sort of sign. He didn’t begin to realize it was related to her parents until he caught a glimpse of her phone when they were together, the screen open to her conversations with her mother and all of the recent texts going completely unanswered. He knew she had always had a rocky relationship with them, but she spoke about them with such respect, he knew it would’ve bothered her to feel so unimportant.

Knocking on her door, his hands clutched the bag of her favorite food he had got on his walk to her apartment. He had planned this evening out for weeks, not telling her about it in worry that she would slip into a facade put together with a fake smile that made his skin crawl.

She opened it, her body tense and tired in a ratty shirt and shorts, “Oscar? What are you doing here?”

It was as if he saw her front go up, her posture straightening and that haunting smile which told him all too well how much pain she was in. He smiled softly, “I thought we could spend the night together.”

She closed the door enough to only peek her head through, “Osc, I’m so sorry, but I can’t tonight. I’m so busy.”

He stayed put, “That’s okay. I can wait on your couch.”

“No, Osc,” She said firmly, her face turning in the light and exposing the dark bags under her eyes.

He stepped closer to her, putting his hand on the door and looking down at her with a look that made her feel loved, “Y/n, let me in. I know you’re going through it. Let me be with you.”

Her resolve cracked, her smile dropping for a second and water suddenly pooling in her eyes, “You don’t want to come in here.”

He leaned against the door and cupped her cheek, “It won’t make me love you any less.”

With a sigh, Y/n pushed the door open, beckoning the boy into her home. He knew what to expect, he knew what it was like to reach the place she was in. So, when he saw the piles of clothes, half-eaten food on the counter with old dishes in the sink, and her little accessories put in the wrong places, something she would never usually do, he wasn’t surprised. If anything, he was happy she had let him in, literally and figuratively.

She picked at her nails beside him, swaying on her feet as she analyzed his every move. Part of her was trying to ready herself for him to walk out the door, give up on her because of whatever stood before them, but he gently set the food on the floor and ushered her into his embrace. His cheek laid against the top of her head, nestled in her hair, as he tightened his grip around her body. She smelled his cologne and felt his sweatshirt which made him feel all the more warm. There was something about his presence, she would later learn it was how safe she felt, that made the turmoils of her mind quiet as she began to cry. Y/n had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry for people who clearly didn’t care, but as Oscar rubbed her back and whispered how much he loved her, she realized it was never going to work.

Her breaking down wet the material of his sweatshirt, but Oscar just held her tighter, whispering how it was going to be okay and this would all pass.

“You’re so worth it all, Y/n,” He whispered, pecking the top of her ear as he smoothed down her hair.

She clutched his back before Oscar was moving her hands under his hoodie to feel the bare of his skin. He knew she loved that. And she did. Y/n’s tears began to dissipate as he told her why he was there.

“I’m with you in this. You aren’t alone. I’m here for you and I always will be. This,” He gestured to the space around them, holding her face in his hands and forcing her eyes to meet his, “doesn’t scare me at all, love. What does scare me, though, is the attempts at eating on the counter. Have you been eating other than that?”

She shook her head, “I tried. It’s too hard. I’m not hungry ever anymore.”

He titled his head with a small frown, “Well, maybe your favorite food will help, yeah? We’ll sit together and eat. We can go as slow as you want, or as fast. All up to you, baby.”

He kissed her forehead lightly before guiding her to the living room, one of the less dirty places, and setting her down on the cushions. He set it all behind him, not wanting to overwhelm her with everything he got, and took out what he knew she would want first. There was a dull sparkle in her eyes when he handed it to her, his heart lifted. It hadn’t been there when he first arrived.

She opened it slowly, eyeing the food she once ravished in seconds, and taking a utensil to pick at it. He looked at her, waiting patiently for her to take a bite. When she did, however small, he did too. When she did again, he did too.

She stopped, “Why aren’t you eating faster?”

He smiled, “Because I’ll take a bite when you do. I don’t mind, Y/n. I told you I’m in this with you.”

Her eyes gloss over as they dart between him and the food before taking another bite, giggling a bit when Oscar takes one of his own dish. She eats, he does too and their eyes never leave each other, offering unspoken support.

When the plastic boxes are gone and empty, Oscar has glasses of water randomly appearing in his grip, offering them to his girlfriend who has found herself tangled in that soft blanket he got her last Christmas. Her cheeks are a soft pink from the warmth of it coupled with the candle he lit in the midst of their dinner and she smiles when the cool liquid flows down her throat. Oscar stands over her, hands in his pockets and wondering how anyone could possibly ignore her texts. He wants to take a picture of her, remind her parents of the beauty they have in their reach. But, he also knows that any text he sends to them wouldn’t be one he should send to his potential (very likely) in-laws. So, he stays quiet and looks at her with the love she deserves.

“Do you need anything else?” He asks, pushing the hair out of her face.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m good. What movie do you want to watch?”

He kisses her cheek, “It’s up to you. I won’t be watching.”

Her eyebrows knot together and she cocks her head, “Why not? Is this some random pickup line where you’re going to tell me how you’ll only be watching me?”

He laughs, his head back, as he walks toward her room, “No, but that’s a good one. I’ll keep that for later. You put on whatever you want, baby. I’ll be cleaning.”

She crawls to the corner of the couch, watching him begin to pick up her room, “Clean? What? Why?”

He stops, turning around to look at her through the door, “Because I want to help you feel better and I know your apartment is stressing you out. You shouldn’t have to worry, love. Just relax. I’ll be done in a few hours.”

Her mouth is agape as he moves throughout her room, putting things away as if he knows where everything goes. He does, apparently. And when the shock of it wears off, a smile cements itself on her face as she turns on a random movie. She enjoys the soft humming of Oscar in the other room, answering his occasional question about the plot of the movie she’s watching. When he moves to the kitchen, out in the open and available to see what’s on the screen, Y/n falls asleep to the picture of her boyfriend doing her dishes and taking out her trash. Falling asleep with a warm heart mended by someone that has always loved her unconditionally.

—

She’s awoken by the feeling of soft mattress beneath her and Oscar’s arms heavy around her torso. He’s deep in sleep when she opens her eyes, has her completely enveloped in his grasp on her side. The room is dark, the window open and allowing for a cold breeze to flow through the room. She loves it. It’s cold outside, but Oscar keeps her warm. Her hands move their way up to his head, playing with his hair and staring at the man who has treated her so gently.

Tears fall down her face all so suddenly, sniffling lightly but still waking Oscar in the process.

He’s immediately worried, “What’s wrong?”

Her head drops to his chest, “I just love you so much and can’t tell you how much it meant to me that you stayed here even after seeing the state everything was in, including me.”

His soft hands leave her body and pull her face up to him. His eyes are dilated as he looks at her, “I would’ve done it yesterday and I’ll do it for the rest of our lives. I don’t want you to struggle alone. You don’t deserve that. You’ve done too much of that before you met me.”

If only her younger self could see her now. A younger girl worried she’d never find a man who loved her by seeing her now wholly adored by someone who didn’t just see her, but understood her too. She doesn’t even need to utter the problem, he already knows and she’s caught on to that since the moment he showed up at her door. His carefully chosen words about her worth and how easy it is to love her were all strategically placed in order to fix the cracks deep in her soul that have come undone at the hands of her parents.

“It’s just upsetting that they only loved me.” She whispers and for a second, Oscar doesn’t understand what she’s saying. But, the tense of her words dawns on him and the look on her face unleashes anger in his body. Loved. It’s upsetting that her parents loved her. They no longer do in her eyes. She once had parental support, love, but it’s obvious how transactional, conditional it was now. She got a taste of what it was like to be loved by them, but it was taken away when she needed it the most. She had mentioned to him before that growing up, she felt as if they used her presence to shy away from the problems of their marriage. When she was out of the house, she thought they would separate, but the opposite has happened. She served her purpose, now they throw money at trips to fill the void of what they have refused to face. Disregarded and thrown away, that’s the implications of what she’s confided.

He nods, tears in his eyes, “It’s so unfair of them to treat you this way. They’re your parents. They should be there for you, but they have never known how to love and you were just an unnecessary victim in it all.”

She wipes the moisture from her face, “I should just move on from the way they’ve treated me. I should give them grace because they’re my parents. I should just make peace with it all because this will never be fixed in the way I want it. But, I can’t.”

Oscar kisses the top of her head, “It’s okay that you can’t. That’s completely understandable. Giving grace just because they’re your family members isn’t right, Y/n. Just because there’s a blood relation doesn’t mean you can excuse their behavior. They’re your parents and they have neglected you for ages. You can’t keep giving everything to them, only to get nothing in return. Parents or not, you distance yourself from people who bring you down as much as they do.”

More tears smear against his chest, “But, they’re my parents, Osc.”

It’s as if he doesn’t know what to say because he knows how much she praises their drive and determination, giving her a life of privilege. Though, he stands firm on the idea that no one should be given a second chance if they “love” this way.

“I know, Y/n, and it’s so horrible that you’ve been put in this situation, but I think it would do you some good to let go of a part of them. You’ll go home and see them for birthdays, Christmases, but, in the time between, you don’t have to chase after them. You can find love in other things, happiness in other things. I’ll even do some of it with you. We can take up painting classes like you always wanted, walks in that park down the street that you love, studying in coffee shops, and watching the sunset. Life without them can be freeing.”

He’s right, she thinks. Life without them will be freeing. But, the story of letting go is never easy and finding yourself flipping to past chapters to hold onto something that isn’t there anymore is usual.

However, as she lays tangled in the limbs of Oscar, she finds future chapters to be more exciting, more fulfilling. Her whole life is ahead of her, one including Oscar, and that sudden revelation fills her with an overwhelming relief. His listing of all the things she loves, wants to try desperately reminds her just how in love with her he is. Every action of hers is noted by him and she’s spent years begging for that from her parents. She never got it, but maybe that was because something else softer lied in the cards for her. At times, her parents needed her, but they would always need something else more. Glamorous, shiny, new things that would satisfy them for a time. She would never be enough in the minds of them, but in the mind of Oscar, she was more than enough. It was clear she was everything to him.

A life with him would be different from the one handed to her on a broken, rusty platter. She wanted that with him and the way he looked at her told her he did too. Letting go of the dismissal of people she has killed herself for to make proud was maybe for the best, pushed her in the direction of focusing on Oscar and everything she’s ever wanted. Was this her mending old, deep wounds?

Loved and cherished, she found sleep once more, rejuvenated with hope and a sense of moving on.

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 day

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ok I need elaboration on pretty much all of those bankais that you haven't already talked about but for now i'm probably most curious about ichigo and hanataro? please, a measly few crumbs of context

The short version of Ichigo's sword situation is that he is D'artanigan to Zangetsu's Three displaced-during-the-fuckery-surrounding-his-parent's-meet-cute-slash-manslaughter-thing Musketeers. We got his dad's half-starved family Zanpakuto, The Family Ghost from his Mom's side, and a guy made in an evil instapot that wandered in here on accident and precipitated the whole enfuckening. They are untied in their goal of "Keep Ichigo Alive" but unfortunately they also have a collective IQ of Negative Four.

Reader: Gee Ichigo, why does the author let you have THREE Zanpakuto spirits?

Ichigo: That's nothing! Orihime has SIX!

Ichigo and Orihime's nonsense is connected to how The Almighty operates:)

Meanwhile, short summaries of Unohana and Byakuya's Bankai under the cut:

Minazuki is a sword primarily about the manipulation of flesh- healing injury, making better fighters by pushing the flesh to it's limits- This is a spirit that is distinctly VISCERAL in nature. It has mass. It has a very distinct body.

Unohana:

So it follows that, in order to supply injured patients with blood and drugs and new flesh and everything else, Minazuki is giving up some of her Mass. Consequently, the Stingray form of Minazuki is the SECOND one- she cannot create her elixirs and make new flesh from nothing. First she must FEED.

Which is why Minazuki's liquid format is acidic blood that devours anything organic. It's why Kenpachi!Unohana's bloodthirst was so bloodthirsty: she was literally starving for biomass to complete her sword's two forms and finally put her Soul in Balance.

Senbonzakura has been with the Kuchiki family for generations, passed from one head of the clan to the next in a sacred ritual that allows the Zanpakuto to bond to its new weilders and grant them the power accumulated with generations.

In the fic, Ukitake is one of a handful of people old enough to remember "Yachiru" Unohana, and until Zaraki's arrival, probably the closest to understanding her. That Unohana and Retsu both understand the horrors of the flesh he lives with every day more intimately than anyone else in his life, and it's the basis of an almost sacred friendship between them. He knows perfectly well where the emergency transfusions and drugs she creates come from, and they have a standing agreement that if he predeceases her, she is to feed his body to Minazuki so he can pay forward at least some of the debt given to him.

He will not be the first of Unohana's friends that have been willingly devoured by her sword.

Byakuya:

But for course, everything has it's cost.

Byakuya was not the head of the Kuchiki clan when his father Sojun died prematurely and make Byakuya the orphan heir apparent as an adolescent. He was not the head when he met Hisana in a grove of cherry trees in the middle of harvest, and fell in love with her He was not the head when he had a terrible row with his grandfather Ginrei and the rest of the clan elders about his elopement. He was not the head five years later, when on a cold spring morning before the plum trees had blossomed, Hisana died of a miscarriage.

One week later, when the plum trees bloomed and the cherry trees had budded, Byakuya came to his grandfather, head bowed and heart broken, and agreed to take up the mantle of Clan Head. His soul had already been torn in half, what was another half?

Everything has it's cost, and the price of Senbonzakura's power is the sacrifice of the weilder's own original Zanpakuto spirit, and by transference, the imminent death of the previous head.

He had known this day was coming, ever since his own native Zanpakuto spirit failed to awaken at the academy. At the time, he'd thought it a mercy that the poor thing wouldn't awaken and be aware of being devoured. But now, as he held the tiny, warm body of the spirit out to Senbonzakura, he could only think of the child he never got to hold.

...with Senbonzakura, at least, she'd be at rest with something beautiful that loved her.

Because Senbonzakura loves it's family, and in particular it adores Byakuya. It has, ever since Byakuya fearlessly climbed it's branches as a small boy, since he partook of the sword's fruits as a young man, and now, when Byakuya offered the most precious parts of himself to the sword with a sense of peace and profound trust. And Senbonzakura repays that trust in kind.

The sword's shikai release is the same, or at least similar for all it's wielders, but long-term friends of the family note that that is a LOT MORE blades than the sword ever summoned for Ginrei or any other head.

The Bankai is different every time. Senbonzakura is ready to give Byakuya whatever Bankai he wants immediately, but it's not until after he adopts Rukia and sees her fooling around in the family orchards when she thinks he isn't watching that he realizes the shape it should be.

It's name is "Senbonzakura: Sakura no Kaju-en" and it is beautiful and terrible.

Sakura no Kaju-en requires only that Byakuya pierce the flesh of his enemy or the terrain around him with one or more of his petal-blades. Once in the ground or embedded in flesh, the blade is transformed into a seed and an entire magical cherry tree grows from it, converting the Reishi and spiritual energy around it into its own mass. Since Byakuya is effectively wielding somewhere around 10,000 petal blades in his shikai alone, he can summon up to 10,000 devouring cherry trees, which will radically alter the landscape of battle and blossom into millions and millions of new petal-blades.

That is, unless his foe is unfortunate enough to have the blades penetrate their flesh. Then the trees will devour them as they grow. Even a truly massive opponent like Yammy can be mulched in minutes.

The trees initially blossom almost white, but as his enemies are felled and Senbonzakura drinks, the blooms grow pinker and then redder until they transform into deep crimson fruits.

It's a brutal Bankai, but a beautiful one. When Byakuya looks out upon the blooming landscape and tastes the sweet fruits of his efforts, it brings him peace to know the small, sleeping spirit he had to sacrifice is playing somewhere within, they way he saw Rukia playing in the family orchards that day.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #ichigo kurosaki #retsu unohana #yachiru unohana #byakuya kuchiki #minazuki #zangetsu #senbonzakura

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cameronspecial · 3 days

Note

dad!drew , coming home from the hospital after giving birth and bring the baby home , and the first night with the baby !

Their Own Little Party

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Masterlist

“You know you could’ve driven faster,” Y/N comments, tossing the strap of the diaper bag over her shoulder. Drew peeks into the car seat where his sleeping daughter is and smiles. He unbuckles the seat, taking her out gently. His head moves like a dog shaking off water, “Are you crazy? I had two precious cargoes in the back. I wasn’t going to go any faster than that.” She giggles and goes to his side. “I feel like you could’ve done that without driving so slow. I mean, Baby, even that little old lady flipped you off,” she notes, opening the front door for him and switching the lights on. He sets the car seat down and drops to the floor to start taking Mila out of her car seat, “She was mean.” Y/N watches as he picks up their daughter. “This is your home, Pumpkin. We are now in the front entryway, where I’m going to teach you how to tie your shoes and put on your jacket in that funny way kids do,” he whispers the next part. “After I figure out how to do that.” “Are you going to do this for every room?” she questions. Y/N finds it adorable, but giving birth and worrying about being a mom has really drained her. All she wants to do is get to bed and she knows Drew is going to take forever with his tour. He can read her like fortune-telling tea, “Why don’t you go sleep? I can handle putting her to bed tonight.”

“Really? But we need to parent together and this is her first day home.”

“I’m not going to stop you from missing out on this milestone if you want to help. However, I hope you know that even though she is only a few days old, I do feel like we are doing this parenting thing together. We don’t need to do everything together for us to be doing this together. Sometimes we’ll just need to take turns.”

It would be nice to go through this milestone with Mila, except Y/N has already gone through a nighttime routine with Mila during their time at the hospital and she would much rather sleep than experience the same routine in a new setting. Relief spreads across her and she steps onto her tippy toes to kiss him. “Thank you so much, I love you.”

———

Crying comes from the baby monitor and Y/N is about to get up to care for the child in need, yet the wails stop and this gets her running out of the room. She hears the floorboards creak and a male voice she recognizes comes from Mila’s room.

"Au clair de la lune,

Mon ami Pierrot,

Prête-moi ta plume

Pour écrire un mot.”

She peeks into the room to find Drew holding Mila, who is only wearing a diaper, against his bare chest. He is quietly singing into her ear and swaying in the spot where he stands. Y/N steps forward, the floorboard announcing her entrance. He freezes and turns towards his wife. “Hey, you should be asleep,” he whispers, walking close to her. She wraps her arms around his waist from the front and nuzzles her head beside Mila’s, “I was and then this little one got fussy. It seems like I was missing the party though. I must say that it is very rude of you not to invite me.” He chuckles. “I’m sorry, your invitation must have gotten lost in the mail,” he jokes. The two of them don’t exchange any other words; instead, they spend the night cuddling in their own little party with their little family.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

#dad!drew #dad!drew starkey #drew #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fluff

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youandiwerealive · 2 days

Text

Praying that the blood doesn’t stain [rd]

Author’s note: I cried so much while writing this one, I don’t even know what to say to you, girls, this broke my heart. Thank you to the anon who requested insecure dad!Rúben, sorry this took such a huge turn 😭 Hope you somehow enjoy this!

Warnings: there’s mentions of death and blood in this one ‼️

wc: 2107 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

There’s no biggest joy in Rúben’s life than his family. You and your daughter, Matilde, really are the light of his eyes. The little girl has him wrapped around her tiny finger, he could never say no her.

“Daddy, can I paint your nails pink?” - the 4 year old would ask him in her cute voice.

“You want to paint my nails, Mati? Of course, but choose a pretty shade of pink that matches daddy’s game shirt, okay?” - he would say to her in a soft voice, always smiling at his baby.

Matilde would do everything with his dad. Anywhere Rúben went, Matilde was there too, always tightly held at his hip, or taking her slow baby steps towards her daddy’s direction.

And Rúben couldn’t stop thanking God, the stars, destiny, whatever put you in his way: the love of his life that made him a dad, the most important role of his life. Nothing could top the importance that you and Matilde had in Rúben’s life, he would always put his girls first. He never felt so happy, with his daughter on his lap and his wife by his side, living in your indestructible bubble of love.

But it all changed two years ago. Rúben will never forget that fateful afternoon, he was having a tea party with your baby, when he got the call from the hospital. A drunk driver hit your car while you were on your way home, making Rúben losing his other half, forever. The news hitting him like a shot in the chest, straight to the heart.

He will never recover from your absence, leaving him to raise the light of your lives all by himself. Matilde is now six years old, she has already started school, now learning how to draw her first letters. Rúben still cries himself to sleep every single night, thinking about you, about how unfair fate was to both of you. You just had your baby, Matilde was only four years old when she lost his mother.

He misses you so fucking much, and your daughter does too. Rúben finds it incredible how Matilde remembers so much of you, always remembering things that you used to say to her, plays and jokes that you had with her. Rúben secretly believes that you talk to her in her dreams, because it’s like she has you always by her side.

Rúben tries his best to not break down in front of your child, especially when she asks about you. It’s been tough for Rúben to be a single dad, missing your support, the way you always seemed to make every thing right. He never looked at another woman again, his eyes and heart belonging to his daughter only - as well as to you, forever. He still wears his wedding ring, never taking it off. He hates the fact that life didn’t allowed him to say goodbye to you, to give you one last kiss. The last time he told you he loved you was over the phone, while you informed him that you were on your way home. Him and Mati cheekily saying “we love youuuu”, over the phone, while Rúben would pretend to drink a cup of tea, wearing a tiara on his head and sitting besides Berny - the bunny, and Johnny - the bear, named after Bernardo and John Stones, Rúben’s friends and Mati’s uncles.

His friends and family never left his side, they notice that Rúben has never been the same again after what happened, everybody knows it.

Matilde is the only thing that can make him smile, making him feel alive as he teaches her how to write her name, paints ballerinas and flowers with her, cooks for her and teaches her how vegetables and fruits are important for her health. Rúben’s life mission is educating his girl in the best possible way he can, be by her side at all times and protect her from every one and every thing.

Every time Rúben looks at his daughter, his heart stings a little, she looks so much like you now. She has your eyes, your smile. At the same time, there’s nothing that he loves more than looking at his baby, resembling the love of his life so much, like you’re still with them.

He can’t do his daughter’s hair as pretty as you could, but Matilde is a gentle and caring girl, she always has a smile on her face and a compliment to give to her dad. “I love my ponytails daddy, you did great” - she would always notice every morning after Rúben would neatly comb her hair, using her favourite pink hair clips with butterflies on them.

She would thank him with a gentle kiss on his cheek, his favourite feeling in the world being the love of your daughter, the way she would tightly wrap her tiny arms around his neck when he would pick her up, how she would hold his hand while walking in the street, her loving kisses on her father’s face, and the way she laughs when his beard tickles her.

When Matilde is at school and Rúben founds himself alone, he lets his thoughts take advantage of him. You are always on his mind, there’s not a second when he isn’t thinking about you. But when nobody is watching, he cries his heart out, still questioning life about the reason why they took you away from him. He often goes to the cemetery, to talk to you, to tell you everything about Matilde - even though he knows you’re always watching over her, protecting your baby. He drops kisses on your grave, whispering how much he loves you, how much he misses you. And how badly he needs you more and more as time goes by. Matilde is getting bigger and she needed her mother too.

After he picks her up from school, Rúben is cooking dinner for the both of them, while his daughter is playing in the garden. He gets lost in his thoughts, unable to stop himself to think how the house is silent without you in it, how life was never the same.

His daughter’s cry takes him out of his trance. He immediately goes to search her outside, Matilde already running to meet her dad. Rúben’s heart breaks at the sight: his baby’s face is wet from all the tears, and her noise and chin are running blood.

Rúben immediately picks her up and rushes to the bathroom, sitting his daughter on the counter, while he tries to clean up her wounds. The little girl hisses and whimpers in pain, poor child fell while playing on the rocks - bruising her knees too. Rúben stops the bleeding and decorates his girl’s wounds with pink band-aids that have hearts in them. Those make Matilde smile a little bit, as she stretches her arms to hug his dad. Rúben holds her tightly, the girl hiding her sad face on his dad’s neck. He kisses her head non-stop, now lying in bed with his daughter still in his chest.

Matilde sleeps in Rúben’s bed now. It’s been like this since you passed away, he feels like he can’t sleep alone anymore - his nightmares about your accident chasing him every night.

The two of them stay silent as Rúben is still leaving kisses on his precious baby and stroking her back carefully. All of the sudden, there’s a little sound.

“Daddy?” - Matilde asks quietly, her voice sounding muffled from her face still being hidden on her dad’s neck.

“Yes, amor?” - Matilde knows a lot of portuguese now, understanding all the pet names and the lectures her father gives her sometimes.

“I miss mommy” - she admits with a little cry escaping her eyes.

Rúben closes his eyes and sighs. “I know, baby. I miss her too” - he admits to his daughter, his voice threatening to fail as well.

“Do you still love her, even though she’s not here with us?” - the little girl questions, her big brown eyes now looking up at his father, who kissed her forehead before speaking.

“Of course I do, filha. Have you stopped loving mommy?” - he asks her back and smiles when the girl firmly shakes her head ‘no’.

“You see, mommy is not physically here with us, but she’s always around. She’s always inside of us, here” - he points at the where his heart is located.

“In our hearts?” - Matilde confirms the place.

“In our hearts, baby. You know the necklace you wear every single day, since you were little?” - Rúben references the silver necklace that has a butterfly, a flower and the letter ‘M’ engraved on a plate in a round shape. You bought it and personalised it to gift it to your daughter.

The initial letter of her name, the butterfly - to let her know that she can always rebirth and become the best version of herself, and a flower - a tulip, to be more specific. The tulip is the flower that represent the perfect love, and you put it on her necklace so she can always remember that she is fruit of a gigantic and true love, yours and Rúben’s, and his mission is to teach her how to never set for anything less than the love his parents shared, that got her into his world.

“My necklace, yes” - the girl answers while her hand instinctively reaches to touch it.

“Mommy gave it to you, and while you have it on, she’s always looking down at you and protecting you. That’s why you can never take it off, Mati” - her father explained.

The girl just smiled at his father, and hugged him tightly, knowing that he is all that she has, but feeling in her heart that her mother is always by her side.

That night, while Matilde was peacefully sleeping in his chest, Rúben couldn’t fall asleep, no matter how hard he tried.

His mind was rushing from the previous events - remembering her face full of tears and blood, the conversation about you. Rúben can’t help but doubt himself as a father - it happens more often that he would like to.

It’s been two years, but he’s still discovering how to be a solo father, an adventure that he had to take on with his daughter - not really having a choice. And sometimes he can’t help but doubt his ‘daddy abilities’ - fighting himself for not being attentive enough to protect Matilde from hurting herself on those damn rocks. That’s his job, for fucks sake. He needs to pay full attention to his baby, to prevent this type of things from happening. He would never forgive himself if something happened to the light of his life.

He misses you, your advices. He misses your mom side, you were the perfect mother to Matilde, and he can’t help but imagine how would life be if you were still here with them. Matilde has a lot of your personality, she is extroverted, funny, smiley and bubbly - just like you were. There’s times where she gives Rúben some sassy answers, leaving him speechless, having an attitude just like yours. He looks at pictures of you two, when you started dating, and some pictures already after Matilde was born. He knows that the blood on Matilde’s wounds won’t stain her clothes, but the blood surrounding your loss will forever stain his heart, his mind, his life.

Life without you doesn’t seem worthy of living most of the times to him, but his baby is the only thing pushing him from the ground. She’s his partner in life now, filling his heart with love and laugh when all he wants to do is cry.

The moments when they sing in the car on their way to school, when Matilde makes Rúben dance like a proper ballerina - making him wear a pink tutu and all, make his life worth living. His baby’s laugh means the world to him, gives him strength and hope in a brighter future.

He wishes you were here with him, reassuring him that everything was going to be okay. But, the way your daughter starts stirring in her sleep, and holds herself tightly to him for comfort and protection, already looks like a sign to him. He’s a good dad, and he and Mati will never be alone, since they have the most beautiful and bright star looking down at them, protecting and guiding them - forever.

#ruben dias #dad!ruben #ruben dias x you #ruben dias oneshot #ruben dias fanfiction #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #writer thoughts #thoughts about football players #football imagines #football fanfic

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st4rtar0t · 3 hours

Text

Details about your future partner

physical appearance, astrological details and more

In this pick a picture we will get to know some information about your future partner, this can even be your future spouse or somebody you will have a long term relationship with. I know you are really curious about them so why not read this and like and share if you feel that this reading has resonated with you?

Pick a picture from below

DM for personal readings.

Picture one

Some of you may already know this person. I see that you know this person from a work setting. They are really hardworking and they put their best in everything they do. They are a master at their craft. I also see that they have had their heart broken in the past and they no longer want to take any risks. This person is really attractive and a lot of people have their eyes on them. They know how to have deep conversations and I also see that they hate small talk. They are always energetic and have a youthful smile. However they have a sense of mystery around them. It's like they are always Hiding a part of them from others. They are family oriented and they will always put their family before anyone else. I also see that they are just your type. They are really protective of the people they love and they will do everything in their power to help others around them. You may Meet this person through social media or through an online platform. I see that you guys will be talking a lot to each other. For some of you, this person is already stalking you and you can feel it. The only reason why this person isn't approaching you is because of their past relationship. This person is really attracted to you and they want to have long term relationship. They only date to marry.

Physical attributes: dark/tanned skin, buzz cut, brunette, ginger hair, puppy face, golden retriever energy, sharp jawline, narrow eyes, thick eye lashes, blue/brown eyes, wide nose.

Key words: childish, eyes on you, watching, spiritual union, lust, lesson, co-worker, short trip, water body, fox, R,A,T,M,O. Explorer, possessive, lots of love, overflowing love.

Astrological details: Virgo rising, Taurus moon, Mars in Aries, Venus in 2nd house, Gemini Mercury, Neptune in 12th house.

Picture two

They are definitely spiritual and if not spiritual then they are definitely interested in being a better person every day. I also see that they have deep understanding of human heart and are quite empathetic. But that doesn't mean they'll carry the burden of others. I see that they like the freedom they have. It seems as if you already know this person or you will be getting to know them soon, sooner than you think. You first conversation may start as an argument or you may not like them at first, its giving enemies to lover vibes. You or they can be an introvert or One of you may not talk much. Some of you may have a fake account that you use to stalk people and they know about it? Or they may collect information about you before talking to you. I am getting a little to no information about them its like the universe does not want you to know about them, it may be a surprise.

Physical attributes : straight nose, beautiful side profile, big or unique ears, full lips, mole under eyes, sharp teeth, dark hair, blond hair or some, fit body.

Key words : bold choice of clothing, snap chat, sunglasses, 11, hot headed, red, T, V, X, May, October, November, pet dogs, younger sibling, gardening, leaf, watermelon.

Astrological details : Scorpio sun, Uranus in Pisces, Virgo moon, Venus in earth sign, Jupiter in 1st, mars in 4th, Libra moon, Pluto dominant,

Picture Three

( Some of you may also be attracted to picture 2)

They're kind of replaying old memories in their head at this moment. They have a tendency to always think about what could've been instead of living in the moment. Sometimes they're just not feeling it, like they're out of sync with everything around them. They feel as if the world is moving but they are frozen. but they are okay with it as long as are helping out and sharing what they've got. Their sense of accomplishment may come from helping other both financially and mentally. They're all about hard work, always grinding and putting in the work to make things happen. They don't like drama and competition, if they feel like you are competing against them they will just let you win. They'd rather keep things peaceful and drama-free. When it comes to love, they're total romantics, just going with the flow and following their heart. They may be a hopeless romantic. They have immense live for their work and they do for a living. They're always honing their skills and perfecting their craft, putting in the effort to be the best at what they do. And at the end of the day, they're someone who feels pretty good about what they've achieved, just living their best life and enjoying every moment. They are grateful for everything that comes their way. No matter blessings or blessing disguised as disasters. Just soaking it all in and feeling grateful for where they're at.

Physical attributes : coloured hair, red hair, tattoos, veiny hands, curly hair, big eyes, sharp jawline, locks, big hands, may wear boots most of the time.

Key words : Horse, 9, 24, 15, pink, water body, red velvet, Venessa, butterflies, absent father figure, garland, gold, nose ring. April, August, June.

Astrological details : Libra descendent, Uranus in 5th, mercury in 10th, Venus in 4th, Taurus Venus, South node in Virgo, Jupiter in libra, cancer rising,

#tarot reading #spirituality #tarotcommunity #divination #pick a photo #pick a pile #tarot #pick a picture #pick a card #pick an image #future spouse #future #future lover #spiritual journey #love reading #love tarot reading #tarot readings #predictions

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readychilledwine · 22 hours

Note

Rhys w a small reader with a big mouth?

Little Girl, Big Mouth

Rhys with a mouthy reader headcanons

Warnings - implied smut, reader could be seen as trashy but Rhys loves it

A/n - This anon actually came from an IRL friend. She texted me about it, and I had her clarify if she meant a gossip or big mouth as in a girl who is prone to talking shit and fighting. It was talking shit and fighting, so thanks, Sammie 💕💕

Ps- I will figure out what your username is 👀 but you're very sweet for doing this the way the rest of my followers do instead of just texting me first😭

You aren't a doormat. He refuses to let you be seen as one. Even if that means you get into a verbal argument here and there.

Those verbal arguments have gotten physical.

My baby daddy always tells me not to write a check he can't cash (if you don't know what that means, it means don't start a fight that he can't finsh.) You don't have that problem with Rhysand.

If you stand, mouth firing off insults as someone else is, he will stand too. Ride or die, he won't let you fight without him.

And that is if the man isn’t already behind you, warning the male standing over you without even having to speak that if he lays a hand on you or speaks out of line, he will be finding out why Rhysand is proud to be half illyrian.

You do know time and place, but if someone insults your male, your family, or your court first, all bets are off.

Your mouth is equal opportunity. High fae, lower, male, female, high lord? You don't care. All bets are off the table with you. No one is safe.

Beron? Constantly roasting him. Asking him if beating his wife helps him feel like a real male. Keir? Verbally torn apart. How pathetic he must be to think he has some pull when he lost out on being high lord.

Hell, illyrian males aren't even safe from you. Not when three immediately are behind you the second they feel your mood change.

And it isn't that you can't fight. You are well trained and can more than hold your own. He just prefers you let him.

He's only held you back once. It was from Amren, and he hardly caught you in time before you jumped on her.

Cassian was disappointed. He wanted to watch two tiny females wrestle it out. He said it would be better if pretty lacy outfits were involved, but he was ready to settle for you in your dress and Amren in her two piece outfit.

Rhys did not stop you, nor Amren, from tackling Cassian for that comment.

He will throw you over his shoulder, ignoring you as you scream for him to put you down while still running your mouth as you're carried out of the room. But only if family is involved.

Mother knows they are no exception. You all get on each other's nerves from time to time. Besides Azriel. You could never fight Azriel.

Rhys loves it. He loves how spicy you are. He loves how much fight and sass you have. He loves how it's always to people who are mean.

He does love fighting for you as well. Sometimes, he asks you to pick fights when it's someone he has been itching to get his hands on.

He rewards you throughly when you oblige him.

"Where's that big mouth now, darling?" While your back is arched off the bed, and your mind is just a haze. "Thought you had so much to say earlier."

He loves making his girl with so much to say and so many opinions go dumb for him.

He loves it when all you can think to say is his name and barely thrown together words.

He loves putting your mouth to other uses if you start in on him, too.

He'd keep you tucked under his desk for hours, putting your mouth towards something actually useful if you two fight.

And that's rare. Your opinions are normally shared and mutual. It's why you two work. Otherwise, you would be constantly at each other's throats with how vocally dominant you both like to be.

Overall, he'd change nothing about how sassy you can be. He loves you as is. Even if it means you bandaging his hands after a trip to Illyria.

#elizabeths.updates #send asks #send anons #acotar x reader #rhys headcanons #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhysand headcanons

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coolprettyleo · 1 day

Text

my soul has changed? - will smith au

wc: 1.4k

tw: depression, suggestion of an ED, awkwardness? mean girl.

will smith x oc celebrini sister!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

april celebrini was in a point of her life where everything felt still. she was pretty sure she was suffering from depression and it was a cycle she didn't know how to get out of.

she would wake up, go to school, go to work, and then sleep. she was lucky if she fitted a meal in between that meant she had lost tons of weight.

she had been a pretty healthy teen, she played hockey up until high school alongside her brothers; but when the time came to play college hockey, she got no offers. contributing to her depression.

it was a sport she held so much love and dedication, she couldn't understand why she hadn't been good enough? I mean her brothers were good enough, they got college offers. macklin was even projected to go first overall, so why couldn't she?

those were thoughts that were constantly haunting her mind. if she found something to forget them they would flood back in, like if they wanted her to be a lifeless doll she had been feeling like.

her family had been really worried for her. she had finally seen her brothers after a year, at the NCCAA playoffs and it only caused them to worry more.

flashbacks

april knew that macklin and aiden were gonna bombard her with questions as soon as they were alone. they could hardly recognize her. growing up she was always a smiling person with a big personality and now she was about forty pounds lighter and was a ghost of the person she used to be.

"april what's going on" macklin said shutting the door behind him.

"what do you mean"

"cut the bullshit. I know your not okay, you barley answer my text anymore, what's wrong"

"it's nothing mack-"

"no it's not nothing, maybe I can fix it-

"you cant 'fix' it"

"and why not-"

"because I don't know what wrong with me!"

that had been about two weeks ago. she just didn't know what to tell her family. she really didn't understand why she had been feeling that way.

she was currently at work where she was a barista in a cute coffee shop. she honestly loved working there, she had got the job when she was in high school and had kept it till college. seeing as she didn’t move far away for college, choosing to stay close to her parents.

she often wondered if she might be happier if she moved away just like everyone else did, just like her brothers did. but it would always end in her telling herself; that it's not worth dwelling on.

it was currently six am and at this time of day there weren’t many customers. the cafe was always busy mid day when people were looking to find somewhere to study.

so she was surprised when she turned the open side around, to find a boy waiting outside to come in. a boy who looked a lot like will smith.

april wasn’t an idiot to hockey, she kept up with it a fairly good amount, so she would have to be living under a rock to not know the guy who dominated the ice at her brothers rivalry school.

that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to act like she didn’t know him.

he reached for the handle and took a look at her before turning as red as a tomato and blushing,

“hey, are you guys open?” he asked nervously, mentally slapping himself because he just saw her turn the sign around, to ‘open’

“uhm yeah I’ll be with you in a sec” she told him.

will couldn’t help but think her voice was cute. she had a rasp to it that made him want to give her everything she’s ever wanted.

april finished up, putting the coffee too brew and turned to the counter.

“okay! order when your ready”

“uhm. i actually never been here before… any recs?” he asked after a moment nervously scratching his neck.

“well I get a dirty chai, but considering my brothers hate it, you might hate it too… I guess you might like a frap?” she told him, a little too monotone.

“yeah okay” he told her again nervously. he found her to be breathtakingly beautiful.

he paid and stood back as she got to making the drink.

“you from here?” will asked hoping to make small talk.

“uhm kinda. I was born in Vancouver but moved here when my dad got a job”

will panicked. oh god was she still in highschool

april must of saw the worry on his face because she added,

“that was a couple years ago, im eighteen now” she said smiling at his face. something she didn’t do often anymore.

“oh, i’m eighteen too”

“oh yeah, what brings you to san jose, school?” she said innocently knowing very well he was drafted here and was most likely here to work on development.

“no. I”m came to meet with some people here. I go to boston college” he answered. april starting to not feel so bad because she saw he didn’t want to right away say he was a hockey player.

“far from home huh”

“yeah, i’m literally across the country from everything and everybody i’ve ever known” he told her wanting to slap himself. did she need to know that!?!

“i’m sorry. it’ll get easier” she said remembering her brother had been homesick too but utimatly started feeling better after some time-- as she handing him his drinks and gave him a sympathetic face.

“yeah i hope so, i should be moving here soon, if everything goes right” he said as he took a sip.

“hey this is good!” he said taking another sip as april smiled. something that will thought looked amazing on her.

april smiled at him remembering the fact her brothers liked that drink. boys were so typical

“i’m glad… and hey— if you ever need a friend in town my names april” she told him as she held her hand out to him to shake.

will starred at it for a moment before he quickly met her hand.

“will” he told the girl with a smile.

they were cut out of there moment when two customers walked in.

“I should get back to work. i’ll see you around will” she told him as he smiled a nodded and walked right out.

say something! ask for my number! do anything!

april felt really dumb after she basically just presented herself in a silver platter to the boy and he didn’t finish his part in asking for her number. he had definitely rejected her in the nicest way someone possibly could.

meanwhile will got into the Uber with a gitty feeling. she seemed really cool and having someone to hang out with other than his teammates was going to be so nice.

he was midway into the meeting with some general managers when he realized he didn’t even ask for her number.

“oh my god” he mumbled as he came to the realization

"i'm sorry?" one of the GM's said confused.

“uhh— I said I was excited to join the franchise!” he covered up, feeling like an idiot.

hopefully she was still there after the meeting.

the meeting had gone a little to long for his liking and as he raced down to the coffee shop he hoped she was working a long shift.

he opened the door to see a blonde girl who looked old but yet looked young, and a taller boy with curly hair working behind the counter.

“hi. is april working today?” he said breathlessly

the blonde eyed him for a moment before smirking,

“I don't recall an april ever working here...my name samantha though” she said with a face that will knew was a face of someone who was lying.

“yes there is, she helped me earlier-"

“if your here to file a complaint against her, I can totally help you then,” she said

“no she was great— wait, you said you didn’t know an april-“

“your looking for april” the other barista cut in

“yeah she was here earlier, i was hoping she was still here”

“she got off like two hours ago but i can give you her number!” the curly haired boy told will. he was one of aprils friends and he wasn’t going to ruin this opportunity for her.

“you totally can’t do that!” the blonde girl said in a nasally voice.

“shutup samantha. go take candy from a baby or something” he sassily told her.

she rolled her eyes before walking away to wipe a table down.

“sorry about her, here’s her number— good luck!”

“thankyou so much” he told him as he thought about what exactly to text the pretty girl.

both april and will not knowing the epic love story they were about embark on.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

hi guys! i hope this is kinda good, dont feel shy to send in ask and au thoughts… i like never get any but im so open to it!!

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey fic #will smith hockey #bc hockey #gabe perreault #ryan leonard #will smith hockey x reader #jacob fowler #bc eagles #will smith hockey x oc #will smith hockey imagine #april x will #gabe perreault x reader #nhl #hockey imagine

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abigails-gf · 1 day

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can you write reader and Abby watching a sad movie and Abby sees reader crying so she comforts her 💕

abby anderson x f!reader.

a/n: hiii nonnie !! thank you sm for sending this request. :3 i cry so much while watching movies. omg. the last movie i cried for was puss in boots 2 :(( saw it for the first time two weeks ago and it was so so good. cried when mama bear said that they'll love goldie even if she decides to give up on them for her wish n stuff. aah. anyway !! i hope you enjoy this. it's a bit short, but i think it's cute !! <3 also, 'm working on a longer request which (hopefully) will be up next week. and i'm sooo excited !! okiii byeee !! mwaaahh 💌💕

how you can help palestine, israeli themes in tlou, more ressources !

you and abby had decided to have a movie night once a week. you'd spend the night at her apartment, bringing some snacks with you. and she'd take care of dinner.

tonight, you two were watching a movie she had picked. you ate while watching the first part of the movie, and then cuddled on her couch.

"oh, no! what is she doing? she can't just leave them like that!" you said, talking about the main character deciding to leave her family. abby stayed quiet and squeezed your hand in hers.

as the movie progressed, nearing the end, she looked at you. you were focused on the tv, the glow of it lighting your face – she noticed tears falling down your cheeks. she chuckled. "baby..." she cupped your cheek as you finally turned to her, sniffling. "oh, honey..." she smiled softly at you as you shook your head. "'m sorry, it's so stupid. it's just a stupid movie..." she laughed a little and hugged you. "oh, baby..." she kissed your cheeks. "it's okay. don't apologise for that." she hugged you until the movie was over.

"it's already over?!" you yelled at the tv. abby giggled and caressed your arm. "calm down, baby. it's just a movie." you hugged your girlfriend as she kept on rubbing your arm. "this movie was shit."

abby laughed and kissed your head. "yeah. the movie was so shitty, you cried." she teased. you looked up at her, slapping her chest. "shh. don't make fun of me." she couldn't help but chuckle. "not making fun of you, baby. would never do that."

you rolled your eyes and kissed her. she kissed you back softly, pressing you against her. "sweet girl..." she whispered into the kiss. you smiled and kissed her some more, as her hands travelled to your lower back. "seriously, abby, don't you ever pick a movie like this." she looked at you and caressed your cheek. "next time you'll pick the movie." she said, giving you a peck. "don't like seeing my sweet girl cry." she kissed you once more.

you two laid down on the couch, cuddling. your head on abby's chest as she rubbed your back. "baby? you alright?" she spoke softly, starting to play with your hair. you didn't answer, soft breaths coming out of your mouth.

you had fallen asleep. abby smiled at the sight. she continued to play with your hair for a few minutes before gently getting up, putting your head down on a pillow. she leaned down and kissed your head. "goodnight, sweetheart." she whispered before picking up the dishes.

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #the last of us #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou2 #tlou x reader #abby anderson blurb #abby the last of us #abby anderson fluff

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wholoveseggs · 16 hours

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girrrllll, i got another idea! how about Elijah proposing to a reader? it could be angsty in the beginning, maybe they got into a fight because she feels like he always puts his family before her, so he proposes to her to show her she is his family too (and cause he was planning on doing that for a while anyway). and it’s all emotional, she’s not believing what’s happening and she’s thinking he doesn’t really mean it. meanwhile he’s almost desperate to show her how much she means to him. Smut cannot be absent of course. thank youuuu🫶🏻🫶🏻

Forever

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Elijah loves you with all his heart, but his commitment to his family and his loyalty to Klaus keeps him from acting on his feelings. But when he almost loses you, he is determined to prove that you are the only woman he has ever truly loved, and wants to make you his, forever.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag! Who doesn't want to be Elijah's wife? ♡♡

6.8k words - Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, slight violence (a classic Elijah & Klaus brawl), shower sex, rimjob {f!receiving}, oral sex & the Italian coast ♡

Everyone says that Elijah Mikaelson is the best of his family. A loyal, charming, considerate man that holds himself to a standard not many can accomplish. In essence, perfect. He loves his family deeply, despite their constant misgivings and betrayals. Nothing would get in his way, if it meant he could protect the ones he loves.

Well, that's what you wanted to believe.

There was a reason Elijah held such devotion to his family. He was one of them, and no better than the worst of them, having sinned over and over to the point where atonement was simply not a viable option.

He didn't want you to see him that way, the dark side of his polished exterior. He wanted to shed his past and become a new man with you by his side.

You were unlike anyone he's ever known or had a passing connection to. Your empathy and kindness was beyond measure, it had captivated him the very moment that your eyes met.

He always wanted to be married, there were even a few times he almost found someone to spend eternity with. Something always stood between that moment and himself, usually in the shape of some great threat. But things had now settled in his life, he had a niece and a proper place to call home. He was no longer on the run from one demon or another.

He wanted this. To settle down with the woman of his dreams, build a life together, and maybe even add to it.

Perfect. Simple. Domestic bliss.

You had come for a small party celebrating Hope's third birthday. Or, as far as you were concerned, a get together amongst those you considered family.

Although, sometimes you worried they didn't see you as family in turn. Deep entrenched history often kept you away from the inner workings of their family life. You understood that you had to earn your place in their lives, and you had done so time and time again. But they never seemed to truly accept you as one of their own.

You got along with nearly all of them except Klaus, who saw you as just a passing phase Elijah was going through. A dalliance, nothing more.

He certainly knew how to poke at your insecurities about your relationship.

"So, tell me," he asked as the two of you waited in the kitchen. "When will this little thing with you and my brother end?"

"Excuse me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

"Don't take it personally, sweetheart. You're not the first pretty face he's lost himself in," Klaus explained with a shrug.

"You don't think he's serious about me?" you questioned, trying not to feel hurt.

Klaus just shrugged and gave you a wicked grin. "Why would he be?"

"Because I love him, and he loves me," you replied, keeping your voice low. "It's been four years, and it's serious."

Klaus let out a bark of a laugh. "Four years is nothing in the life of an original. When will you stop living in this fantasy you've built in your mind? This will end and you will move on."

You were about to respond with a few choice words when Hayley came in carrying hope.

While your relationship with Klaus was contentious and you thought him to be cruel and cold. There was no doubt that Hope loved her daddy with all of her tiny heart. She reached out to him, and he happily took her into his arms.

"There's my little one," he cooed, holding her close. "I love you, my sweet girl."

He began to place kisses all over her, and the three year old giggled loudly.

You had baked the cake for her, and placed a number 3 candle in the middle.

"Let's light her up!" you announced.

The cake was placed on the dining room table, and Elijah stood by you. He slipped his hand in yours and squeezed.

"I want auntie y/n to light it," Hope said.

You smiled wide and kissed her on the head.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice soft.

You lit the candle, and everyone began to sing as the little Mikaelson happily ate a slice of cake, messily covering herself. You laughed, taking a cloth to wipe her little face and hands. Elijah watched you with adoring eyes, you were such a loving soul and he was so lucky to be the one to call you his own.

The cake was enjoyed by all and soon it was time for gifts. Hope was handed a large package by her father, and she eagerly tore open the paper.

You were cuddled up to Elijah, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Thank you, my love."

"For what?" you asked, glancing up at him.

"For being here. It means a lot to me," he told you.

You looked back up at Elijah, and kissed him lightly.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you told him.

Hayley helped Hope unwrap the gift from you and Elijah. It was a wooden dollhouse, and it was a miniature replica of the compound, complete with a little Klaus, Elijah, Hayley, and Hope.

Hope hugged the dollhouse to her chest. "I love it!"

"We made it ourselves," you said with a smile.

"Look, daddy!" Hope squealed. "Auntie Y/N and Uncle 'lijah got me a house."

Klaus gave you a tight smile, and you looked at Elijah. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and held you close. This only seemed to annoy Klaus more, but he turned his attention to his daughter, and the gift that she had received.

"That's amazing, little love. Now, why don't you open the rest of your presents?"

"Okay!"

The evening winded down, and eventually Klaus and Hayley took Hope upstairs to get her ready for bed and the rest of the family retired to their rooms. You had left the dining room table a mess, and wanted to help clean up.

You had picked up a few discarded wrapping papers, when Elijah's arms came around your waist.

"Don't worry about that, my love," he whispered, pressing his lips to your neck. "Leave it, we can do it tomorrow."

"You're sure?" you asked, leaning against him.

"Very," he whispered, taking your hand and leading you towards his bedroom. "I have other plans for you."

"Oh?"

"Mmm," he replied, nipping at your ear. "You know, I've been thinking of you all day. All the things I'd like to do with you."

You flushed, biting your lips and smiling shyly. He never failed to make your heart skip a beat when he looked at you with that seductive gaze. He never had to force it either, his stare was simply alluring and attentive, it pulled you into its grasp like a siren's song.

Elijah shut the door, and the moment you turned around, he grabbed you and kissed you passionately. His hands held your hips tightly, pulling you against him. He kissed down your jawline, and down your throat.

He pushed you gently onto the bed, kissing down your neck and inhaling the smell of your skin, pulling your clothes off as he went along.

His love, his entire world, right here in his arms. If he were a more possessive man, he'd keep you in this room until his love was imprinted in your very bones.

He kissed you softly, wanting to take his time and express how deeply he cared for you with each touch. He moved down your body, worshiping your skin with his hands and mouth, and the soft sounds that escaped you only urged him on.

His bliss was quickly broken by the sounds of his brother yelling for him at the top of his lungs- an unnecessary use of volume, considering everyone had supernatural hearing.

You reached down and cupped his face, drawing his attention back to you.

"Please don't," you whispered, a pleading look in your eyes. "Stay,"

Elijah's breath left his lungs. You were not the clingy type, in fact you were rather understanding and independent; letting him go and do whatever it was the family needed, always supporting him.

He should stay, finish what he started with you, love you, the one he can't live without. But there was clearly something going on downstairs, his family needed him.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "I'll be back."

"Sure," you said flatly, pulling away. You didn't quite meet his eyes as you turned on your side, facing away from him.

You were clearly upset, but he didn't have time to be swayed by his emotions. He leaned in to give you a quick kiss, but you turned your head away.

"I'm sorry, my love," he said, stroking your hair.

You didn't respond, and he had to leave you there, curled up and angry. He felt a deep pang of regret, but the thought of his family's safety was at the forefront of his mind.

As soon as Elijah left, you let your emotions come to a boil. It hurt how he was constantly running away to deal with his family. It hurt you when he put them over you, their arguments over little things always dragged him in. It made you feel undesired, and second best.

You had no doubt he cared for you, and you did believe he loved you. But did he truly love you the way he loved his own family?

No, not really. He was always holding back, never showing all of himself. He wanted a relationship, but not a true partnership. Not with you, anyway.

Your insecurities bubbled to the surface. The way Klaus acted around you, like you didn't belong, he always treated you as if you were an outsider. Perhaps he was right, that it was a fantasy, that you should move on.

It didn't matter that you were with Elijah. It didn't matter that he called you his love.

He could love you, but not be in love with you. And maybe he wasn't. Maybe this was all a lie, a ruse.

Just too good to be true.

Klaus was pacing around the courtyard, clearly worked up and ready to take it out on the next person who walked through the door.

"Is it necessary to yell?" Elijah asked, his voice calm and collected.

"I had to make sure to get your attention, since you've been so distracted lately," Klaus snarked, a pointed look on his face.

Elijah let out a sigh, this wasn't the first time they've had this conversation. He was growing tired of Klaus' attitude. "What is it that's so important?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

"Y/n is a distraction," Klaus began. "You are blinded by her, and you've become weak and weakness will get us killed." He was speaking quickly and with anger. "You are no longer the man that I've known for a thousand years. You have forgotten where you came from, what you are, and who you are meant to protect."

"Are you suggesting I cast her aside?" Elijah questioned, his voice cold.

"Yes, exactly," Klaus answered, his expression unchanging.

"No," Elijah stated simply.

"She acts far too familiar, and is clearly not one of us," Klaus continued.

"She has proven herself time and time again," Elijah countered. "What more does she need to do?"

"I don't want Hope getting attached to someone that isn't family," Klaus said.

"You can't control who Hope gets close to," Elijah snapped, his anger finally rising.

"I can certainly try," Klaus replied, his tone icy. "And I will. Because you've allowed this woman into our home, our family, and now she's acting as if she belongs."

"She does," Elijah said, his voice steady. "You just have a hard time accepting that."

"If you really care about her, then you will do what is best," Klaus replied, his expression changing. "We both know what happens to your dalliances, they come to tragic ends. I'm trying to spare her from that, brother."

"This isn't some fling, Klaus," Elijah growled, his eyes flashing with rage.

"No, she's just a girl you enjoy fucking! And now Hope is calling her auntie, and she's acting like she's Hope's mother-"

Elijah laughed coldly, his brother was so painfully transparent, his paranoia endless and ever growing. "Is that what this is about? You're afraid of her taking Hayley's place? That I would take yours? Have you officially gone insane?" he mocked, his anger at a breaking point. "Have my actions in the last few years not been clear?"

"She will not be welcomed here once you've tired of her. Once she's gone, Hope will ask for her, and I will not allow that," Klaus stated, his voice rising. "You will have broken a little girls heart because of some stupid infatuation."

Elijah's patience with his brother had worn thin. He had to remind himself that Klaus had suffered so many losses in his long life, that his paranoia had grown into something monstrous. But in times like this, his brother could be utterly cruel, and it was impossible to see him as anything but.

"It's not some stupid infatuation," Elijah seethed, his hands clenched into fists. "I love her, and that's something you will never understand. She has been good for me, and has done nothing but support us. She's not a threat, and you know it. This is the problem with you, you want everyone to suffer as you have."

"That is not what I'm doing-" Klaus began, his voice rising. "She's not one of us, and will never be. You just keep her around as a trophy, to remind yourself that you are capable of caring for another. She doesn't belong here, and it will be her undoing."

Elijah lost his control and snapped. He grabbed his brother and threw him against the wall. Klaus' head hit the stone and cracked loudly. His face contorted into an expression of rage, his eyes flashing gold. He moved forward and punched Elijah in the face, sending him stumbling back. He rushed at his brother and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing tightly. Klaus' anger grew, and his grip tightened.

"Enough!" Hayley screamed, grabbing Klaus' arm and pulling him back. She looked between the two brothers, her eyes wide. "Why are you two fist fighting when my daughter is trying to sleep?!"

Klaus' eyes were wild, and his face was covered in blood, Elijah looked the same, and neither was ready to back down. The only thing stopping them was Hayley's presence. She stood between them, and looked at Klaus. "What did you do? What could you have possibly said to him?" she demanded.

"Y/n isn't family, and never will be," Klaus spat, glaring at Elijah. "I have to protect our daughter."

"Our daughter? You're unbelievable, Klaus," Hayley said, shaking her head. "Go. To. Bed. Both of you," she commanded.

She grabbed Klaus's hand, and dragged him away. Elijah sighed, rubbing his forehead. He looked up and saw you on one of the upper balconies with an unreadable expression on your face.

Had you seen that entire argument? Did you hear the awful things his brother had said about you?

He rushed up the stairs and met you at your bedroom door. You had your bag in your hand, and he knew immediately what was happening.

"You can't," he told you, shaking his head.

"I'm not welcome here," you whispered. "I have to go, Elijah."

"You are always welcome here," he said, reaching for you. "Please, let's talk."

"We have talked," you told him, pushing his hand away. "I've heard everything I needed to hear, Elijah. You keep choosing them over me. It's always your family first, and I understand that, but you have to see how it hurts me. I can't just keep coming second in your life."

"You aren't," he whispered, trying to draw you close, but you gently pushed him away. He felt his heart shatter at the action, and he knew he had lost you. "I want you, I choose you. Don't do this, my love."

You pushed past him, unable to hear anything else he had to say at the moment, you needed space to think, to figure out what you wanted. If this was a fight you could win. "Goodbye, Elijah," you said, giving him one last glance.

He stood there, and he was frozen. How could this have happened? He thought that he had made you understand that this was permanent. That you were forever.

But he had failed to show his love properly and he had to fix what he broke. You were his greatest love, his everything, and he couldn't live without you. He was nothing without you. So he would do whatever it took to bring you back.

Because if you were gone, so was he.

You were staying with Marcel, the only person who understood what it was like to be in the Mikaelson shadow. He wasn't thrilled that Elijah had hurt you, but he did understand that relationships weren't always easy, especially with the Mikaelsons.

He poured you a stiff drink, and let you wallow.

"I shouldn't have gone," you muttered.

"It's Hope's birthday," he pointed out.

"But I should have known better than to get involved like that, it only makes Klaus jealous," you sighed.

"Klaus is a notorious asshole, and Elijah is...well, he's not good with his emotions."

"That's putting it lightly."

You drank the whole glass in one gulp, and poured yourself another.

"I don't know why I thought that he was serious," you grumbled.

"He's serious, but he's also scared," Marcel replied. "It's a lot easier for him to push people away, then have the chance to hurt them."

"It's a terrible feeling, wanting to be a part of a family that doesn't want you," you admitted.

"I know the feeling," Marcel replied, sitting down next to you.

"He told me he loved me. He told me that we were going to spend forever together. And yet, his family still doesn't accept me." You looked up at Marcel, your eyes filled with tears.

"It's just Klaus, the rest of them adore you," he told you.

"How do I get Klaus to trust me? I'm not trying to take his daughter," you insisted.

"Just be patient, give him some time," Marcel advised.

"I've given him four years," you said. "And he's not willing to accept me even a little."

Marcel nodded, and handed you another drink. "Don't worry about Klaus, he'll get over himself."

"And Elijah?" you asked.

Marcel frowned. "That's not my area."

"Yeah," you said, nodding slowly. "Me either."

You and Marcel had a few drinks and talked the night away. By the end, you had almost completely forgotten your heartache, and were simply enjoying the company.

Marcel had fallen asleep, and you were dozing off when your phone buzzed. You opened it and saw a message from Elijah.

We need to talk.

You sighed, and sent him a simple reply.

Tomorrow.

You were far too exhausted to deal with his bullshit right now. You tossed your phone on the coffee table and fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up on Marcel's couch, a blanket thrown over you. You stretched, and grabbed your phone, heading into the kitchen.

Elijah had texted you back.

Meet me outside, I have a car waiting for you.

You frowned. He was sending a car for you? You quickly responded.

Why are you sending a car?

A response came instantly.

It's a surprise.

You shook your head, but smiled a little and texted him back.

Fine, give me 10 minutes.

Hurry, we're on a tight schedule.

You showered, and got dressed, grabbing your bag, and heading out. You gave Marcel a quick goodbye, and hopped into the town car.

Elijah was sitting there, and smiled softly.

"Good morning," he said.

"Morning," you replied.

He looked you over, and you were surprised by the intense gaze. You blushed under his scrutiny.

"What?" you asked.

"You're beautiful," he said softly. "And I'm sorry, for all of this. I never meant to hurt you, or make you feel unwanted."

You shook your head. "I know you didn't," you said. "And it's okay."

"It's not," he told you, reaching for your hand. You let him take it, and he pressed a kiss to your palm.

You flushed, and looked away. "Where are we going?"

"The airport," he replied.

"What? Why?" You were completely confused.

"You are right, I'm not putting you first, and I will not allow that anymore," Elijah replied. "And to prove it, we're going somewhere, just the two of us."

"Where are we going?"

"Italy, we're going to spend a month on the Amalfi Coast." he said, a soft smile on his face.

"A month?" You asked, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"Yes," he nodded, and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. "I've been neglectful, and I need to remind you of how I feel about you.

"Eli, you don't have to do all of this."

"Yes, I do," he replied. "You deserve the world."

He had rented a private plane, and had arranged everything. You were incredibly impressed that he managed to pull it all off in the span of a night.

You sat beside him on the plane, his hand intertwined with yours, and a soft smile on his face. You couldn't help but relax, the last couple of days had been so tense, but you couldn't stay mad at him, and a romantic getaway was exactly what you needed.

As the plane took off, Elijah reached over and brushed your hair out of your face. You lifted the arm rest and cuddled up against him, resting your head on his chest. He held you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You missed this, the way he was so attentive, the way he was gentle with you.

"I am sorry, for making you feel second best," he said, his voice low and full of regret.

"I know," you said, reaching up and stroking his cheek. "It's okay, your dedication to your family is part of what I love about you."

You looked up at him and kissed him softly.

"Let's not dwell on the past," you said. "We have a whole month to make new memories."

"I am going to spoil you so much, my love," he said, kissing your nose.

The flight was nearly twelve hours and you immediately fell asleep when the plane leveled out. When you woke up, the sun was starting to set.

Elijah was reading a book, and had his free hand resting on your hip. You smiled, and snuggled closer. He put the book down and looked at you, his eyes soft and full of affection.

"Good morning, or rather evening," he chuckled. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you yawned.

You looked out the window, and saw the city below. It was like something out of a dream, colorful houses all stacked up, the sea sparkling as the sun set.

"Welcome to Positano," he said.

"Elijah," you whispered, awe in your voice.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's magical," you gushed.

"Yes, it is."

The plane landed, and a car was waiting. Elijah had rented an entire villa for the two of you. It was stunning, with a view of the ocean, and a private beach.

You walked through the villa, looking at all the art and antiques. It was very much Elijah's taste, and you could see yourself spending a month here.

The moon was out and it cast a soft glow over the sea. Elijah took your hand and the two of you walked down the stairs to the beach.

The sounds of the waves gently lapping on the sand soothed you. You walked down the shoreline, your hands intertwined.

"You didn't have to do all this, you know," you said, leaning against him.

"I know, but I wanted to. I needed to. It was a selfish thing, really," he replied, wrapping his arms around you.

Up ahead you saw something on the beach, it was too dark to make out, but it looked like a bunch of neatly shaped debris.

You walked a little closer, and you could make out the shapes. It was a heart, surrounded by lit candles, and flowers. The words "I love you" written with rose petals on the sand. Suddenly a bunch of twinkle lights were turned on, and the whole scene was lit up.

You turned around to ask Elijah if he had done this, but the words died in your throat. He was kneeling on the ground, a ring box in his hand.

"Y/n," he began, his voice soft and loving.

"What are you doing?" you asked, a bit breathless.

"I should have done this a long time ago," he said. "I should have married you years ago, but I was afraid. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to give you everything you deserve."

"Eli-"

"No, let me finish," he insisted, and continued. "I've spent centuries on this earth, never truly belonging anywhere. Always searching, never finding. Until I found you. My home, my heart, my family."

You were crying, tears streaming down your face. You couldn't really process what was happening, here was the man of your dreams, pouring his heart out, telling you how much he loved you, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

"You are my world, my everything. And I want to spend eternity by your side," he said, opening the box and showing you the ring.

The ring was absolutely stunning, a large ruby surrounded by diamonds. It looked antique and must have been worth a fortune.

"I found this ring almost five hundred years ago, right here in Italy. I knew that when I finally found the right person, I would give it to them," he said, smiling up at you.

"You can't be serious," you said, not intending for it to sound as harsh as it did. You were in complete shock.

"I have never been more serious in my entire life," he replied, his voice firm.

"What will your family say?" You asked, worried about Klaus’ reaction.

"Niklaus can go fuck himself," Elijah grinned. "As for the rest of them, they will be thrilled."

You nodded slowly, letting the words sink in.

"This is insane," you whispered, unable to stop staring at the ring.

"Is that a yes?" He asked, looking nervous. "Will you be my wife?"

"Yes," you breathed, and he took your hand and slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as though it was made for you.

He stood up, and kissed you. You threw your arms around him, your fingers tangling in his hair, kissing him back with every ounce of love you had for him.

"You're my family, you're my home," he whispered, spinning you around. "And I vow, from this day on, you will always come first. I love you."

"I love you too," you murmured, cupping his cheek. "With all my heart."

He pulled you close, kissing you deeply. You lost yourself in his embrace, in the way his hands felt on your body, his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth.

You both stumbled to the villa, tearing each other's clothes off. Your back hit the wall, and Elijah pushed your skirt up. His hands found your thighs and he squeezed the soft flesh, lifting you up, your legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed along your neck, leaving little marks in his wake.

"My fiance," he muttered against the flesh. "My darling love."

"I like the sound of that," you moaned.

"Then you're going to absolutely adore being called my wife," he grinned, moving his lips down to your breasts.

His kisses turned bruising, biting at the flesh of your tits. He was rough with you and you relished it. It was like he was finally unleashing his feelings, letting out all the love he had for you.

You tugged on his hair, bringing his lips back to yours, hungry for his kisses, drunk off of his affection.

"Bed, Eli," you murmured, but instead, he picked you up and carried you into the shower.

He set you on your feet and turned the water on.

"We are covered in sand," he grinned.

The steam was rising as the water heated up, and the moment it was hot enough Elijah pulled you in with him. You squealed as the warm water washed over you, cleaning you off.

The water was the perfect temperature, a delicious warmth, but not as delicious as the feeling of him pressing into you, pinning your front against the tile.

He reached up, taking your hands and pinning them to the tile wall.

"Keep your hands here," he commanded, pressing a kiss to the back of one.

You nodded, a small moan escaping your lips, he kissed his way down your back. He ran his tongue down the length of your spine. Soft and gentle, teasing over the top of your ass. His hands ran over your legs, and he bent you slightly, opening your cheeks to reveal the most intimate part of you.

"Beautiful," he murmured, before lapping at you.

Your knees nearly buckled as he pressed his face into your flesh. His hands spread your cheeks wide as his tongue dipped into your core. The way his mouth touched every part of you left you dizzy with need. Your thighs clenched, your clit pulsing, ready to be touched.

But you did what he told you, and kept your hands above your head. The porcelain felt cool on your heated skin and he tugged you closer, your hands moving further down as your body was pulled back. His tongue darted into your center, teasing around your hole, his saliva coating you, trailing up, finding your puckered hole, and slowly circling the muscle.

"Elijah," you whimpered, gasping as his tongue worked you open.

He slipped a finger into your dripping cunt, working it inside, pulling it out and sliding it up, moving to replace his tongue on your tight entrance. He swirled around your asshole before pushing the pad of his finger into your tight heat, his mouth sucking on your ass, soft moans escaping him, vibrating against your flesh.

You struggled to keep yourself upright, your hands against the wall, bracing yourself, wiggling against him. The warm water of the shower cascading over you, the sensations were too much and not enough. You were panting, your head tilted back, eyes closed, as you were overwhelmed by his touch.

He pulled back and stood up, kissing along the back of your neck, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you close.

"Do you want more, sweetheart?" He murmured in your ear, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes," you breathed, arching against him.

His cock was hard, trapped between the two of you. You ground against him, rubbing yourself on his length, desperate for the friction.

"How much more?" He asked, a smirk in his voice.

"All of it," you said.

"Right here, up against the shower wall?"

"Yes, Elijah, please," you begged.

He hummed and reached between the two of you, taking his length and teasing your core with it. He loved making you beg for him, and he loved hearing the desperation in your voice. But you were now to be his wife, and he was going to take care of you.

He eased himself into your center, groaning at the tightness of you, how good it felt to be surrounded by your warmth. You moaned as he pressed inside of you, the thickness of his cock filling you.

He placed his hands on top of yours against the wall, intertwining your fingers.

"I love you," he murmured, his hips moving against you.

"I love you," you moaned, rocking your hips with him.

He took his time with you, savoring the feeling of your body. He had almost lost you, and he needed to remind you how much you meant to him, how he cherished you.

His slow, languid movements were torture, the heat building inside of you, his thick cock rubbing every inch of your pussy. You moved together, the two of you in sync.

Your orgasm started to build, a slow burn deep within. You had never been so turned on, or so loved, the way he held you, the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

"That's it, baby, come for me," he encouraged, his hips picking up the pace.

He could feel the change, and he knew exactly how to push you over the edge. His thrusts became harder, more purposeful. His lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, and he sucked the tender flesh.

Your walls clenched and you fell apart, coming undone for him, moaning his name, over and over. He smiled against your skin, he could stay buried inside of you forever, and never tire of the way you made him feel.

He turned off the shower and pulled you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his body on top of yours.

"I can't wait to make love to you every day, for the rest of our lives," he smiled.

"That's a long time, Eli," you teased.

"Not long enough," he smirked.

He took your legs and spread them, kneeling between them. He guided his length into you, and pushed all the way in.

He groaned, loving the way your body opened up to him, the way you felt like home.

"Elijah," you gasped, your hands reaching for him, needing to touch him.

"I love the way you say my name," he smiled, leaning down and kissing you, his tongue licking into your mouth.

He rocked into you, slowly, the feeling of you was addictive. You were his drug and he would never be able to get enough of you. He pictured all the ways he would make love to you, the ways he would please you, worship you.

"My beautiful girl," he groaned, his body on fire, his desire burning, and it only fueled his need.

His hips snapped against yours, and you gripped the sheets, the pleasure coursing through you. Another orgasm was building, the feeling of him deep inside of you, the way he looked at you with such love.

"Come with me, my love," he pleaded, his hand moving between the two of you, finding your clit, his fingers gently rubbing the bundle of nerves.

He was so close, and he was determined to have you come with him, to fall apart for him, together.

You whimpered and moaned, your hips lifting to meet his, chasing the feeling, knowing it was so close. He pressed his lips to yours, and the dam broke, crashing over the both of you.

You came together, moaning, his cock twitching as he emptied inside of you, your walls clenching and milking him, taking everything he had to offer.

You collapsed, boneless, spent, completely and utterly satisfied. He smiled at the sight of you, blissed out and glowing, your hair wet and splayed out over the pillows. . He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

He laid down next to you, making sure to keep you close. You curled into his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

"So, tell me more about this wedding of ours," you grinned, holding your hand up to look at your ring.

"I'll arrange everything, don't you worry about a thing," he said softly, nuzzling your neck.

"Is that so? I don't get any input?" you teased, turning to look at him, your lips brushing against his.

"I mean, you can make suggestions, if you'd like," he smirked, his hand running along the curve of your hip.

"Hmm, well, I do think we should get married in Positano," you smiled, and his eyes lit up.

"It’s perfect here, isn't it?" he mused, a soft smile on his lips.

"I want it to be a small wedding," you said, tracing patterns on his chest. "Family and close friends only."

"Of course," he replied. "I want it to be something just for us."

The two of you talked until the early morning, dreaming up your future together, and making plans for your wedding. It would be a simple affair, a celebration of your love, in a beautiful location, with the people who cared about the two of you the most.

The month spent in Italy was something out of a dream, the days filled with long walks on the beach, picnics in the gardens, and nights filled with dancing and drinking. You made love in the most luxurious beds, and in the most unorthodox places, including the rooftop patio one night. You even made it a bit of a game, seeing who could find the best spots to fuck in. Elijah always won, and was very proud of himself, you loved seeing him so carefree, so happy.

There was no talk of his family or what was going on at home. It was like you were in your own little world, just the two of you. But it was time to return home, the news of your engagement was something you both wanted to share in person.

When you entered the compound, Hope came running up to her favorite uncle, Elijah scooped her up in his arms and spun her around.

"Uncle ‘lijah! Auntie y/n you're home!" she grinned, and you smiled at her, ruffling her hair.

"Have you been behaving for your mother?" Elijah asked, carrying her towards the courtyard, letting her tell you both all about what she had been up to while you were away.

"I see the trip did you both some good," Klaus said, walking towards the three of you. His eyes darted to the ring on your finger, the red ruby catching the light. "Is that what I think it is?"

"What is?" Hope asked, looking confused.

"I asked aunt y/n to marry me," Elijah told Hope, smiling sweetly at her.

"You did?" She exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Yes," you nodded, laughing at the excitement.

Hope hugged Elijah tightly, and Klaus looked at his brother, a hint of a smile on his lips. The sight of his daughter so happy warmed his heart.

"Well, I wish you both every bit of happiness," he said, giving you a tight smile.

"Thank you," you replied, knowing his words were sincere and it was probably the most enthusiastic response you would ever get from him. It was progress and that was enough for you.

Elijah put Hope down, and she took off running, the news of your engagement clearly something she was very excited about. You could hear her yelling the news as she ran through the compound. Rebekah was the first to appear, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Congratulations!" She beamed, and you hugged her back, her enthusiasm contagious. "I better be a bridesmaid."

The rest of the Mikaelson's slowly came and offered their congratulations. Hayley and Freya both hugged you, Marcel shook Elijah's hand and Kol gave you a warm smile. Hope was thrilled, talking a mile a minute about all the ways she was going to help with the wedding.

"Can I be a bridesmaid?" she asked, her cute little face pleading.

You knelt down so you were at her level, taking her hand. "How about something even more special? No one else at the wedding is going to have such an important job."

"What is it?" She asked, her face completely in awe.

"Will you be my flower girl?"

She squealed and jumped into your arms, squeezing you tight. "Really? Yes! I'd love to!"

You laughed and hugged her back.

Elijah watched the scene, a warmth in his chest. You were his family, his home, the missing piece that had made him whole. He had finally found the love he had been searching for.

You caught him staring, and walked over to him, his arm wrapping around your waist. He kissed the side of your head and let out a contented sigh. You were everything he ever wanted and so much more.

"I can't wait to call you my wife," he smiled.

"Neither can I," you said, your lips meeting his, sealing the promise, always and forever.

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