#like you can interpret their relationship whichever way

[sundrop-writes]

Figure It Out

A Criminal Minds Casefic

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

Summary:

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

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

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

Word Count: 18,000

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed Warnings and author's notes below the cut.

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

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

...

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

-Friedrich Nietzsche 

...

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

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

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

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

Ten more minutes. 

“I just want to talk.” 

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

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

“This is just a conversation. Nothing more.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Reid-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

“Clear!” 

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

“Clear!” 

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

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

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

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

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

Hotch had been right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Put the knife down!” Prentiss ordered sharply. 

You didn’t move. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Prentiss!” Hotch edged in, warning her. 

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

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

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

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

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

There was a gutting silence. 

“Please, just give me the knife.” 

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

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

“What is it?” Emily asked. 

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

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

It was hopeless. 

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

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

“Tell me you like it!” 

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

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

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

“Come on, tell me you like it!” 

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

That would be your excuse.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was losing the game. 

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

“Fuck you.” He moaned out. 

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

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

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

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

… 

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

Reid needed some air. 

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

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

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

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

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

Reid nodded at this. “My apologies.” 

She looked deeply troubled. 

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

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

Reid cracked a small smile at this. 

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

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

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

She looked solemn at his words. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had driven you to take up the habit. 

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

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

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

You wished they weren’t. 

You directed the conversation elsewhere. 

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

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

He had you now. He had won. 

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

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

The silence was gutting. 

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

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

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

It felt like a lie. 

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

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

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

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

He moved back to the door silently. 

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

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

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

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

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

It came free after only a few tugs. 

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then she turned back to the clerk. 

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

The clerk shook his head. 

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

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

“Me either.” Hotch confirmed. 

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

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

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

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

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

“The UnSub caught her attention.” Prentiss noted. 

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

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

“Maybe.” Prentiss hummed quietly. 

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

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

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

When she glanced over her shoulder, Hotch was gone. 

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

“Hotch!” She called out. “Hotch-!” 

“We need more camera angles! We need-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hotch nodded. “Exactly.” 

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

The murders. 

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

“Y/N.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were stuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How does that help us?” Someone asked. 

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

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

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

Reid took a breath, and then continued on. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” 

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

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

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

But this case - it was getting to you. 

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes at this. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you quit Redbull.” She chuckled. 

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s helpful.” You sighed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was your mother. 

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

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

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

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

“Oh please, call me-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that?” Morgan wondered aloud. 

You hummed back in confusion. 

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

A small plastic bag containing a piece of white paper. 

“What the hell?” Morgan mumbled quietly. 

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

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

Bile splashed up in your throat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

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

“Good morning, y’all.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too.” You easily agreed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you mind showing me, please?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eight years.” Spencer easily corrected her. 

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

There seemed to be a resounding nod at this.

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

… 

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

“There’s my beautiful girl.” 

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

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

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

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

You spoke his language - violence. 

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

You were perfect. His perfect girl. 

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a heavy silence at this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prentiss sharply rolled her eyes at this. 

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s the thing.” JJ sighed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beyond that, there was an alarming trend. 

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

And they were from your hometown. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.” 

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” Reid pressed. 

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

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

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

You hated it. 

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

Sweet, accepting, understanding Reid. 

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

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

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

“I’m human. So what?” 

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mornin’, Penny G.” You replied.

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

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

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

The way he had written it. 

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

“What is it?” Emily asked. 

“Nothing.” You quickly replied. 

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

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

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

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

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

You barely managed to read its contents through tearful eyes. 

Lover, 

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

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

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

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

-Daniel 

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

You recognized the piece of dark cloth in an instant. 

It was from that night. He had kept it. 

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

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

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

You didn’t answer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I see?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You truly considered just coming out with it. 

But then- 

A harsh knock on the door cut through the silence. 

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

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

… 

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

Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention. 

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

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

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

“What the hell is that?” Prentiss asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Ugh.” 

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

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

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

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

“Were any of them prosecuted?” Hotch asked. 

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

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

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

“What?” Derek prompted her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Battered. Bruised. Broken. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?” JJ wondered aloud. 

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

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

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

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

It all fit together now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Reid-!” 

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

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

“Y/N,” 

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

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

But you still couldn’t escape him. 

“You don’t have to do this.” 

Your hand shook as you held the knife. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer just didn’t understand. 

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

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

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

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

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

There was a gutting silence. 

“Please, just give me the knife.” 

You couldn’t give up. 

You had come too far to let Daniel win now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t look up at him. 

You knew that you couldn’t. 

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

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

You let out another sob at this. 

You had been so alone. 

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t pity. 

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

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

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

You should have killed Daniel. 

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

Ten more minutes. 

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

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

It could be viewed as a beautiful thing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You definitely were not used to this version of Reid. 

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

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

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

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

It caused you to flare with anger. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you couldn’t stop. 

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

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

Pity. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hotch nodded at this. 

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

“Mistake?” Spencer echoed back quietly. 

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

...

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

-Patrick Rothfuss

...

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

[fumifooms]

Analysis of Laios’ succubus and theories on what it means - deep dive on Laios’ desires in human connections

Laios’ succubus is a very odd incident. I have some particular interpretations of why it was Marcille, and why things went down the way they did.

We know that a succubus shows what one desires, stated in canon as “an alluring form”; yes often in a romantic or sexual sense, as seen with Chilchuck’s succubus being entirely set on looks and seduction, meanwhile Marcille’s does have a focus on chivalrous noble demeanor as well, showing romantic behavior and personality. BUT with Izutsumi we also see that the liaison doesn’t have to be romantic or sexual at all, either, in Izutsumi’s case it’s a familial bond she craves. So perhaps we can say that the succubus exploits a desire based on connection, in whichever form that takes. Marcille wants an emotional connection foremost(which is also reflected in how it’s a character she knows very well and not a stranger. Perhaps romantic.), Chilchuck wants pleasure(a simple pleasure not unlike alcohol, perhaps such a connection is free of the more risky or unpleasant parts of a relationship, he doesn’t have to worry or to think and can just let himself go. Sexual.), Izutsumi wants a mother figure that can offer her warmth and comfort with who she doesn’t have to be tough (Familial), and I believe Laios’ is platonic and centered on his desire to have people with who he belongs and can be himself with…

But Laios’ case is more complex, it has layers. The thing is, even if Laios wanted to have someone able to turn him into a monster—which it didn’t even have to be, could straight up have just been a monster with such powers—, it didn’t have to be someone he knew. You could say the succubus wanted to disarm Laios’ suspicions with someone he knew and that was nearby, but the succubus seem very direct in every other case, simply appearing with someone’s greatest appearance even though both Marcille and Chilchuck were fully on guard and the succubi knew it. "Believability" isn’t an important factor. No, his succubus being someone he knew was important. It being Marcille was important.

There’s a TLDR at the end of this if you want to cut it short. For everyone else, strap in everyone, if you don’t know me hi I’m Fumi and I made this 3k words long analysis and theorizing bc I am autistic much like the character in question and I think this is both fascinating and has a lot to say. In this I offer both platonic and romantic reasonings and I do go rather in depth in Laios’ psychology and relationships to dissect what ever could this damn cryptic event MEAN. Spoilers for the succubus chapters obviously and also the last few arcs of the series so… Spoilers for the series as a whole!

—

So attraction wise it’s kinda unsure where Laios stands. He does sort of logically list off aesthetically pleasing traits of the orc’s wives, but besides that… Not really, or he never voices it anyways. He and Marcille never share like “omg you’re pretty” moments or anything. Senshi gets more compliments than either of them through the series lmfao. Maybe Laios is asexual, maybe he simply doesn’t show outwardly his attraction much or even maybe isn’t self-aware about it, regardless… Laios HAS implied preference for Marcille’s looks in the past. With the orcs, he said that “tallmen like long ears”. Laios’ shapeshifter of Marcille has her hair down just like her succubus, which by Kui is explained to be because she had it down when she revived Falin and it really marked him, though it could also be interesting to see it as his mental image of her as her most authentic self, I’ve seen it theorized that it’s a preference too but I think that’s disproven. But of course the most damning evidence itself… The succubus scene. It could have been anyone else in the party, certainly Senshi shares Laios’ interest in monsters much more already. We shouldn’t discredit the way Laios was blushing madly once she revealed she was a monster, that made her more attractive to Laios for sure, but he still wouldn’t have reacted that way if it was just anyone. The contexts are very different, but we can compare it to how Laios reacted when Lycion turned into a wolf man in front of him for instance. Laios certainly doesn’t act that way with Izutsumi- and it’s confirmed like a page later that he does see Izutsumi as a monster already. AND!! Laios starts blushing madly BEFORE she says that she can turn him into a monster- and we can safely assume that the blush isn’t out of simple fluster but out of desire/infatuation since he clearly wants her to bite him in the next page and his blush does not relent at all.

There’s something we could say about Laios’ liking of Marcille being born out of companionship rather than aesthetic attraction, on familiarity and intimacy. As members of the same party they’ve spent a lot of time together and we’ve seen that Laios trusts in her and relies on her for her skillset and avice. If Laios’ interest in her developped more naturally and gradually, valuing the familiar bond they have, I don’t see why he’d be acting all blushy and lovesick every time they interact or whatever, which is the explanation I have for Marcille genuinely being Laios’ most alluring form but him not freezing at the sight of it. That could also be a reason why he physically rejects succubus!Marcille instinctively, because something about her feels off or different (which is sorta the most direct interpretation of the scene, since Laios’ first thought is that it can’t be Marcille and must be a monster).

 [Edited in: Oh my god. The picture above is the last page of the dullahan chapter, chapter 57, a chapter that centers around Laios and Marcille’s relationship through flashbacks as Laios is on the brink of death and sees his life flashing before his eyes (he remembers how they first met, etc, which is also interesting to note that on the brink of death he reminisces about her the most). The last page of that chapter, more or less the thesis of the chapter in which we see Laios opens up about the real reason he and Falin go dungeon diving to her after them having a rough meeting but she turns out to also have an interest in dungeons, has Laios go "she starts out frowning but she ends up smiling! Wether its’s about eating monsters or about me :)”. That chapter is the one right before th succubus chapters. Laios’ most alluring form wasn’t “just” Marcille, it’s a SMILING Marcille. Which is why the succubus had such a weird and off demeanor right away (which gets knocked off once it doesn’t work and becomes a more Marcille-like Marcille)! It was only focused on smiling because it was the angle it was working from.

Oh my god it makes sense. It’s a direct narrative link, it’s as explicitly put with its story structure without Kui just stating it, besides, you know, the many times Laios says how precious her smile is to him. He’s like “I love her smile” and right next chapter the succubus is like “yes this is what he likes seeing most”. But… This also does mean that the focus might be less romantic, like Marcille’s significance doesn’t diminish, but then the alluring form might be less about her and more about the smile itself. About having a friend who looks at him like that, about someone who smiles after eating monster dishes or surpassing obstacles together… Or it can actually be so much more romantic. Like, maybe the smiling Marcille doesn’t work is because well, it’s not like Marcille, she wouldn’t just be smiling like that and behave like that (esp since his musing is about how her smiles are sort of “earned”, that she doesn’t smile right away but it’s sort of like a rewarding sight when she does). So then the most alluring form of Marcille doesn’t work because she doesn’t convincingly BEHAVE like her. His most alluring form isn’t a Marcille-lookalike, it’s her as a whole. More on the succubus shifting/switching in its approach later.]

Anyways.

Where was I. Ah yes, “It could have been anyone else in the party, certainly Senshi shares Laios’ interest in monsters much more already.” But then that’s the point isn’t it. I think Laios’ succubus being Marcille is because his wish isn’t so much focused on her, or on becoming a monster, but on not being alone. On being understood. On having others finally share his interest. On not only becoming a monster, but having someone to share that with. A trusted friend, a companion, or a lover, it matters little in my interpretation, the bedrock of it stays the same. And this is why it’d be someone he already knew instead of someone new, because it’d defeat the point, and it was maybe Marcille because she’s the most vocal about finding monsters disgusting: it’d have finally been a shift in her that she now liked monsters. And again this brings back to when he talks about her smile, when he says that she starts out unhappy with eating monsters, but ends up smiling by the end of it. Her smile itself represents that though first impression or reflexive dislike, someone can turn around and end up liking it anyways, it’s hope for his interests to be liked and perhaps for him to be lovable as well, that it’s possible to be accepted.

But I do think it would be a mistake to say that there’s absolutely no romantic interest, that it’s plainly platonic or another kind of interest misplaced and idealized in her. What we saw with the other succubus is that they 100% act in ways that the person desires, sure Izutsumi’s start attacking after a while, but that was after pushing them over the edge, and succubus Marcille wasn’t being agressive nor did she have a reason to be (even when she could have with Laios’ choking, she didn’t turn to violence, so she was 100% still in seduction mode). Ultimately the goal of the succubus is to make physical contact to be able to suck their essence, but the way they go about achieving that is tailored to the individual’s desire, Marcille’s kissed her hand and Izutsumi’s offered a hug.  The succubus can identify and embody complex desires, often subconscious ones, shown with Izutsumi’s. They go straight to it without complex subterfuge either. Chilchuck’s succubi were very direct because that’s what he wanted, Marcille’s was courtly because that’s what she wanted, Izutsumi’s offered motherly comfort and affection because that’s what she wanted, and Laios’ is Marcille attempting to kiss him. Let that sink in.

Laios why are you choking the supposed key to your heart?

Ok so the theory that Laios’ desire is to have a deeper companionship from an existing companion is pretty tame and surface level I’d say, but strap in… The way Laios reacted violently to Marcille trying to kiss him is VERY interesting. The first thing he thinks about is that she isn’t Marcille so she must be a succubus, then confusion at to why it’s her. He’s even afraid of what the others would think, feeling… Shame? With how he imagines Marcille would be horrified that he likes her that way. Fear of rejection?

But no no, what interests me is the shift that the succubus makes. It seemed very confident at first, went straight in, but when overpowered shifted the direction it was going in- shifted from a desire for Marcille to a desire for a monster Marcille and whatever deeper desire that hides. But??? Succubi did not make mistakes as to what someone wanted thus far, possibly that has never ever happened before by human records. Could the succubus truly have miscalculated what Laios desires? It’d be hard to imagine that the succubus would misunderstand what type of companionship someone wished for or what approach to take, since it’s done complex cases before too, Izutsumi being very much in denial before it & at first. In Izutsumi’s case, even with her complex feelings over it and her two souls desiring different things, the succubus did not miss its mark, and ultimately it was having a second soul for who the succubus wasn’t alluring that allowed her not to be frozen to the spot. But with Laios the succubus fully switches strategy.

The thing is that succubi don’t usually need to switch strategies, because the form and approach they take always work and always leave the victim frozen. Izutsumi bypassed this because of her two souls, but was still frozen and struggling to reject the succubus at first. And yet? Laios did. A succubus’ victim is supposed to be instantly frozen, and yet Laios acts on instinct and defensively agressive as soon as his reaction time allows. And well, it’s hard to really come to a logical conclusion as to why, since we have no idea of what rules can override a succubus’ temptation besides multiple souls… C’mon regular Marcille can’t be the winged lion/kenksuke’s desire bc of the loose hair being Laios’ mind-Marcille we’ve gone over this /hj Although, since it’s confirmed that the winged lion was watching with the dream Laios gets induced right after, maybe he’s what allowed Laios to be moving? It’s possible that it’d have frozen him otherwise, even if Laios with his full rationale wouldn’t have accepted the kiss faced with supernatural allure he might have gotten paralysis from being overwhelmed, similarly to how if Chilchuck had his full rationale he wouldn’t allow a woman like his succubus to kiss him (he’s always stayed faithful to his wife even after 4 years of separation, give the guy his earned credit). Getting somewhat offtopic, but something to say about how if that’s the case once again the theme of ‘irrational desire you crave vs what you truly want/need’ that is present throughout the manga would be reflected.

My best guess however on why Laios reacted so quickly and forcefully is: trauma. The more recent arcs with Laios suggest that Laios has deep-seated trauma over humans. He dislikes humans as a whole, that was like, pretty much stated, though perhaps exaggerated. As a kid he fantasized about monsters wiping out human towns. We know Laios has been ostracized for most of his life by others, in his village and in the military, and beyond social rejection it’s shown he got beaten in group too and it was implied that it happened regularly. But damn, disliking humans to the point of wanting to be a monster and murderous genocidal reclusive envies and all of that stuff? That is massive trauma, massive identity & belonging issues and hint at massive trust issues.

So then, the negative reaction could be because of Laios’ deep trauma with humans. Because of trauma getting activated, not due to a miscalculation on the succubus’ part but due to a contradicting dislike of the desire that makes the form inherently and straight out of the gate un-alluring, Laios’ repression being so strong that he’s able to affect his own desires in that way, or an instinctive defense response to the trigger (a human).   Even though Laios hides it well, once again recent arcs (and some other moments) make it clear that Laios still has some innate dislike of humans, which in canon is a term that all races like elves fit in. He has a bias against them, perhaps even an innate distrust of them. Who knows how aware he is of it, or how much control and will he has over it. What if Laios reacting agressively to it was his defense mode tied to this kicking in, a survival and security instinct, stopping any possibility of Laios wanting a romantic relationship with a human? Any chance of that human getting close and being hurt by it, either rejected or stabbed in the back? It’d then make sense if Laios is unaware and doesn’t understand his attraction to Marcille then, if it’s a sort of self-made blockage, denial. And that’d make full sense with how, when Marcille is suddenly a monster, then all of Laios’ reluctance is gone and he’s fully enthralled, all that it took was taking away that one blockage for Laios to be utterly charmed. It takes away the trigger element, humans, and replaces it for something safer. A desire for connections, but connections with people that are ‘safe’, people who also don’t fit in with society, who are part of his interest in monsters, who would accept and understand him. I think that Laios does desire human connections, specifically, but can’t allow himself to pursue them either from conscious or unconscious trauma, so though he does desire it he can’t accept that he does/can’t accept the relationship even if it’s handed to him on a silver platter.

Conclusion

The succubus’ shift could then be either that it switched from one wish, a wish for Marcille, to another, a wish for companionship in monster-liking, or that it stayed on the same fundamental wish, but had to improvise with the new information (that Laios is human-averse)(not bc it didn’t exist previously but bc it wasn’t manifested) to take out of the equation the thing that was holding Laios back (from giving in).

But well, the fact that the rest of the party is included does lean towards the former, but in any case that doesn’t erase all I’ve spoken about, all about how Marcille is 100% the focus of this whole thing. It could still be a bit of both. But it is interesting that he worries about the party’s reaction to seeing his succubus being Marcille, and when she shifts into monster Marcille he *still* worries about the others: “b-but what about the others?” He’s a mess, with his most alluring form seducing him, and he still has a shred of resistance in him to question how the others would react, and it’s only when she says that they’re already monsters too that he truly gives in. Is he really so afraid of ostracization? Of losing the people he cares about due to judgement? Then the mention of the others in the party can simply be something the succubus added on top to unlock another “blockage”, the same way she added Marcille being a monster on top of the basic premise of Marcille; Take out the immediate dismissal of humans first, and then the fear of loss and judgement from other friends so Laios can finally stop worrying and give in. That worry/framing I’d say makes the latter more credible, because it’s not the premise of the alluring form but an extra.

In the end, like the recent arcs kind of spell out, the thing central to Laios’ character is less so a love for monsters and moreso a dislike for humans, and this is what this puts on full display.

Laios’ most alluring form is Marcille, a human that doesn’t understand his interests and thus him, and regardless of everything else that Marcille is, that is so traumatic to him that all of his being immediately rejects it.

—

Thanks for coming to my ted talk! I’ve spent so much time thinking about this and wording and rewording this same train of thought, also it’s the end of my college semester and I’m going crazy

Tldr: My personal fav theory for Laios’ succubus is that Laios really values Marcille’s smile a ton like it’s often mentioned, and that’s what his most alluring form centers on. I’ve got a ton of different interpretation on the why it’d go for a kiss? Since it tailors its approach to the person’s desires, but obviously something goes wrong with Laios’, which is really interesting because even with Izutsumi who resists because she has 2 souls so one part of her can always remain unaffected, the succubus hit bullseye on her most alluring forms. But regardless of that, I think his desire for Marcille (either her or what she represents, wether as a platonic ideal or something else) isn’t wrong/untrue perse, but that Laios has such a complex with humans and intimacy and connecting with others that his defense mode kicks in and that’s when the succubus has to shift into a different, safer desire: one that doesn’t involve humans but that still shows connections and acceptance and belonging. Also Laios realizes that it isn’t Marcille when she goes in for the kiss, which if his allure for her is based on familiarity since they’re friends and all could make sense that it’d break him away from it, or since it’s a liking based on familiarity he doesn’t freeze, or maybe it’s because the winged lion has its eye on him. I think that’s so much more likely with how Kui makes even her jokes be character moments or at least consistent, and also with the tension of the scene, than just the scene being a gag about how Marcille doesn’t mean much to Laios actually.

I think there’s a lot to be said about why Marcille is special to Laios, why her smile means something to him, etc, and I don’t think saying Marcille is special to him is exaggeration or reaching at all. Laios, Marcille and Falin are the golden trio, she’s the deuteragonist, she’s the only other character in the main party whose goal in going back for Falin is Falin and who has a bond with her and Laios outside of being coworkers, in post-canon they live together, happily, in the anime’s ending they’re emphased on by dining out all three together... I could go on.   Marcille has the benefit of being very trusted by Laios, not only with the time they’ve spent together but how she was Falin’s friends first, the person he himself feels so protective of and has been so consistently ostracized throughout her life. Marcille represents a positive odd one out that’s like, the good example of "humanity can be good and safe and warm actually".  Which is a big reason why imo Marcille is like, the secondary protag and with Falin they form the golden trio. She’s central to the story in many ways including making Laios see that humanity is worth saving and sticking with, but that’s a topic for another analysis. One such reason is how his first meeting with her went: it started really badly but ended with her coming around and unexpectedly sharing their interest in dungeons, which made him and Falin open up about the real reason they go dungeon diving, perhaps for the first time. There is just so much that goes into it but Laios seems generally very expectant of rejection: in the climax chapters after he transformed back as a human and was hiding out in the woods, pre-canon in an extra where we see him battling himself on if he should suggest eating monsters or not. But another one, the one I truly want to bring up in this post, is how genuine Marcille is! And funnily enough, how dramatic she is, and how her elf ears change position depending on her emotions. Like, let me compare her affectionately to a dog for a second, but dogs move their ears and use whole body language to communicate, and I think that part of Marcille, really strong emoting, with her ears and body language on top of her often dramatic facial expressions, reassure him. Like ok, maybe he can’t tell when Shuro and Kabru would lie to him, but Marcille? She wears her heart on her sleeve and her feelings on her whole self. And that takes away some of the stress and trauma he has with humans, explains why her smiles would “put him at ease”, doesn’t it?

I don’t remember wether I’ve mentioned this somewhere or just in my reblog linked at the end of the post, but while at first I thought the succubus going for a kiss on the lips heavily implied a romantic desire in Laios,  now I have a couple different theories on why the succubus would have gone for that approach. I think the most likely is that, if the principal allure of his succubus is her smile, the succubus is like "as long as he sees her face right up until i can suck up his blood and he passes out I’ll be gucci", so it’s not about the kiss but about him seeing her face all the while until the very last moment, so he stays charmed.

Btw chapter 34 explores Laios’ relationship with touch too imo, and we see that he is uncomfortable with touch to some degree, very unsure and hesitant and tense. I feel like it’s something more shown in a bigger picture sense with his whole struggles with humans and extras, than just in any one page so go reread the beginning of that chapter if you want I’d say, but putting a page below as example anyways. I think it’s notable that it’s a character moment shared with Marcille too, she acts sort of like a bridge to humanity with social propriety and being extroverted in many cases. In the chapter Chil and Marcille point out how awkward he is with touch, but he learns to be casual/comfy enough about touch to do healing magic with her (something that was also enforced through him having to practice magic on Marcille turned to stone, he got a lot of touch exposure and magic practice done in those days. Dammit Laios, MArcille and touch is worthy of a whole analysis of its own). She’s just like, his human comfort zone, even if they aren’t that close at least at first, besides Falin he has literally like no friends and I think that itself shows how he doesn’t fit in well socially and that it’s a significant struggle for him. But yes what I was saying here is I believe there’s setup for him recoiling from touch like he did with the succubus (due to an instinctive aversion to touch made especially intense due to the succubus’ oddness and forwardness).

I have even more theories and rambling on details on the succubus here in a reblog, but unless I want to put in some pictures of Laios repressing himself around others and such I don’t think I’ll be touching this post again in a while

[crystcrm]

i share ur struggle.. i ACHE for gepard or welt content so hopefully i could request for something like that? im js gonna throw a bunch of ideas and you can choose whichever

relationship hcs (what he’d be like, how does he show his love etc)

sleeping together (take this whichever way you want)

cooking together in the kitchen (im a whore for this stuff idk why😭)

bedroom hcs (kinks, fav positions, literally anything i need it so bad)

KISSING IN THE SNOW W GEPARD😞

anon i hope you know this ask gave me like 5000 braincells. like suddenly i am THINKING. it's so insane how one little ask full of random blurbs gave me so much life to write even just the smallest things.

literally welt and gepard are my two faves rn, i'm fr just waiting for jing yuan to come out. jing yuan my beloved <3<3

but anyway, as for this little ask, i think we'll ease into the hsr content with some fluff ( i am all due for it anyway, i have Not been writing and i also need the fluff because my god does life hit hard ) so sit tight >:)

love and cherishing you ♡ ;; various x gn!reader headcanons

content;- sfw , fluff , headcanons list , how some hsr boys show their love for you ♡♡ , overall just really fluffy because i need toothrotting stomach ache inducing head swirling sweet fluff sometimes... , nothing about getting together but just general hcs on what they'd be like in a relationship , reader is nooooot...? the trailblazer but could possibly be interpreted as such if you squint

characters inc:- welt yang , gepard landau ( includes post-belobog arc content, not extremely spoilery but take note that i chose after the jarillo-vi conclusion to open up more opportunities >:3 )

together with welt yang . . .

welt has lived life longer than perhaps anyone on the express, being from another world and used to living as the first ( second generation ) herrscher of reason, a herrscher that sided with humanity. he didn't expect to get sucked into another adventure, one where he'll meet many companions, see unbelievable sights or even... fall in love.

he's an old soul, yet his heart still has a grand passion for what he does. the fire within him burns, and perhaps, you stoke the flames. a motivation unlike any other to show you the wonders of the galaxy— of every world.

his love is not the most openly shown, an old man can be embarrassed sometimes. especially in the face of his family of the astral express. his affections for you are for you two only. his touches, his words, the little things that make sparks fly are all special and meant for your ears and eyes only. be it in the privacy of his room, or late nights when everyone else is fast asleep, he'll always find a way to make his love for you known when nobody else is looking.

time together with you is always time well spent. he enjoys it perhaps just a little more than going on adventures with everyone. you could be doing anything, and he wouldn't mind simply sitting in silence together with you. it's comforting, relaxing. it's moments like these where he gets to unwind with you. it's essentially a recharge— he doesn't even have to hold you ( but if you'd like that, he'd be more than happy to ).

he used to be an artist— an animation storyboard artist. his skills on paper would definitely outmatch the rest of the crew. he already likes to have his experiences captured in little drawings in his notebook. well, you happen to be one big, long lasting experience. one that he can't wait to see what more comes while experiencing it. you swear that you can catch him gazing at you every other day, and you always see his pencil moving across the papers in his book. inside are sketches of you in all your beauty, how he adores you, even complete with little notes about the things you like.

he wishes to show you the world, all there is to be seen across the entire galaxy. he will be there, to guide you, to accompany you. it's not that he doesn't trust the rest of the crew, but really, this is the closest thing to a date you've ever gotten. taking in the sights of new worlds, creating new memories together, and maybe getting tossed in a bit of trouble along the way. sure, it may be tiring or troublesome, but he wouldn't want to face it with anyone else.

those that come across him know him as welt yang, but this is the name he has inherited. he doesn't tell it often, perhaps, but at least you know him. the real him. he's not just welt to you, but also joachim. it is something he entrusted to you, who he is, who he once was, who he shall become— everything about him.

he adores you, and all your entirety. you are like a burning star in the galaxy above, one that burns with him.

together with gepard landau . . .

gepard, captain of the silvermane guards is a busy, busy man. between his duties as captain and his daily life, he does his best to find time for you. his lack of charm is exactly what makes him charming, some may say. he's no nonsense, stubborn, "famously uncompromising" ( as his sister claims ) with an unmatched loyalty. it sounds horrendous, but perhaps that's exactly why you love him.

you tell him he should prioritise his duty first and foremost, he is an important figure in belobog, after all. and he does, he stubbornly commits to it. even if he can see in your eyes that you're hesitantly letting him go again. it's in these rare moments that he gives you a small, warming smile and a gentle embrace— he tells you that he'll do his best, for the preservation of belobog, for its people— and most importantly, you.

bothering him on patrol isn't one of your favourite activites, there are definitely more enriching things out there, but you still do it from time to time. usually, it's when the nights are a little colder and you can't seem to sleep. it's the same old thing, each and every time. he tells you you should get home, but not after a quick walk together with him. you'd chat about the little things, and he'd even shyly try to hold your hand in such a moment. after that, he personally escorts you back to your residence, and never forgetting to leave without a kiss goodnight. it may be a simple kiss on the back of your hand, or you might get up for a quick kiss on the cheek. you don't know what you do to him.

gepard doesn't strike me as a type that knows a lot in this area. he was born and raised as a noble child, and then went straight into becoming a protector of the city he grew up in. he'd feel a little flustered at a few things, the ideas and thoughts that come to him while together with you. he's even more embarrassed as he goes to his sister for advice on how to deal with such emotions. he reads books, fiction of romance that he does best to turn into your reality. it's not perfect— he's still clueless on what's a really good date— but he's always trying harder just for you.

it's not often that he gets free time, but once he does, he's quick to seek you out... after his sister of course. for many good reasons, actually. other than the usual check in with his sister he loves so dearly, she is more helpful than most others despite her teasing. serval is a big source of support in his relationship with you, not to say you two can't handle it yourselves. he's just rather clueless about love as a whole sometimes, and she's there to give him a little nudge in the right direction. thanks to her, gepard brought you flowers once, and he does it every so often.

never underestimate the lengths he'd go for you. he may be constantly out there in the front lines trying to combat the antimatter legion and the fragmentum, and he may be busy with training the guards or some other silvermane business, but he would always keep you in mind. you're part of his motivation, and you've grown to be the biggest part of it. you could tell him it's nothing important, if you ask for something, like a favour or likewise, but because it's you, he'll put it right at the top of his priorities. you are his priority.

dates are difficult, especially when you're captain of the guards. walking around with him attracts more attention than any other thing, but it doesn't stop him from inviting you out. the luxuries of belobog would be easy for him to indulge in, as a landau and as captain, but truly, simply spending time with him is enough. your favourite dates are ones where you freely walk aimlessly in the day, perhaps after a bite to eat. fresh snowfall is light upon the city streets, unlike the eternal freeze. you find it hard to resist temptation, letting yourself be swept off your feet for a sweet kiss in the everlasting winter snow.

gepard landau has an immense lack of charm. he's stubborn, he's uncompromising, and maybe even a little dense or a little blunt. but the brighter side of these qualities always show around you. he'll find a way to see you, and he won't rest until he has. his lack of knowledge in this department has him cutely flustered from time to time, but also has him doing unknowingly romantic things. he loves you, and he wants you to know that.

[fizzfags]

EMIZEL/FIZZFANGS ANALYSIS

the long awaited. under the cut bc its really long and im fucking insane. (this does not necessarily focus on them as a romantic pairing, just the way they interact with each other. interpret it in whichever way is most compelling to you/what you see fit.)

EMIZEL:

the most notable thing about emizel is the fact that he is mainly motivated by status and climbing the social hierarchy in whatever situation he is currently in. in his human life, that was climbing the ranks within the demons. after he dies, he doesnt really understand the social hierarchy within vampire society, but he does understand that its very important to at least be in good standing.

(episode 2)

he has an inherent disrespect towards authority, also seen with his father, (which i will get to later) as seen with this interaction with arthur. he's insistent on meeting the important figures within vampire society in la, and prioritizes this over, say, learning how being a vampire actually works. in the same episode, he also tells arthur "It just seems like we have similar goals, you know? I clearly don't know what I'm doing in vampire society. You do. So I need to learn. And you did say you'd take responsibility for teaching me." keep in mind that this is only a week or so after he was turned. things become interesting when we see him interacting with said important figures.

(episode 4)

in a stark contrast to arthur, hes relatively polite and respectful. obviously, this is to build favor for himself within the community of important and respected figures. also notable, he is lying out of his fucking ass. this is probably my biggest piece of evidence against the people that genuinely believe that emizel is unintelligent, because he clearly knows what hes doing.

as stated in the tweet, he gets killed/injured makes stupid decisions so often because he's used to operating under the rules of the demons and normal human society, and he hasnt learned that consequences and rules are enforced much harsher in regards to vampires. his rash and impulsive personality/decision making skills/opposition to authority figures that he doesnt like just isnt compatible with vampire society, and this leads to him getting hurt (see any and all of his interactions with edward)

(episode 4)

so, we know he lies to get what he wants (status, respect, etc) and doesn't feel bad about it. now is time to address his upbringing. obviously, it was not great. he has a very negative relationship with his father, and it wouldn't be too big of a stretch to describe it as potentially abusive. "Listen, I've lived with this guy my whole life. He's always kind of been a piece of shit to me, so do what you want - I couldn't care any less. But, if you're making me choose between my wellbeing and his, then I'm always going to choose me. Besides, I can't do any of that mind shit anyways." (episode 2) we can most likely assume he joined the demons relatively young, as a way to escape or have a place to stay other than his dads house. this is also probably the source of his opposition to authority, especially those that act negatively towards him.

(episode 6)

episode 6 is very interesting. emizel risks his life to go back to the unseen one to ask a very specific question: "why did i get abandoned with my father, and why did shilo get to stay?" also noting that his most precious memory is one he had with the demons. when shilo asks about this question, he gets very defensive, because he knows that shilo would have an answer for him, but its not the answer he wants. if he tells them, they wont let him go back to the unseen one. of course, his question is left unanswered, and he asks it again in episode 10.

another very interesting thing happens in episode 10: he willingly gets rid of all memories of his father. he had a lot of other things he could have given up, but he specifically chose his father. with the definite negative impact his dad must have had on him, and how highly emizel prioritizes strength, it wouldnt be a stretch to say that he viewed the trauma of living with his father as a weakness, something to get rid of instead of grow and heal from. it would take time, a resource he isn't willing to share.

so, why is emizel so motivated towards power and status? with all this, the answer is pretty obvious: he wants to be able to build the life he was never able to have. power and status means money means opportunities means choices means a better life. he wants an escape from la, from his father, from everything he's had to deal with growing up. hes constantly reminding himself that its not fair, its not fair that shilo got to live that way, its not fair he was abandoned and stuck here. so he wants to make it fair for himself and the rest of his posse. those he considers his family. his jealousy motivates him.

so of course a wrench is thrown in everything when he loses that emotional connection to most of his friends (except theo. which i will get to) and finds himself just not caring anymore. the thing hes built his life around, spent years climbing the ranks - all for nothing. but what else can he do but continue on. find another distraction, find another goal.

THEO:

we don't know much about theos past other than he (supposedly) lives in the suburbs and has rich parents. (referenced in episode 8) though this is debatably canon, i think its interesting if it is because it brings up a lot of questions. most notably, why did he join the demons? the most obvious answer is that it's the same as emizel: his parents suck. though of course none of this is canon, so moving onto the things that are.

the first major event that happens to him is emizel being turned. he sees emizel less, "No shit, really? You know Emizel? How is he keeping up? He's kinda, been disappearin' every night." (episode 2) and we can assume emizel is a big part of his life. (which i will get to later) and then, thanks to shilo, a core aspect of his personality is stripped away. his entire life is essentially turned on his head, and he can feel something missing. so, as seen in episode 5, he turns to alcohol. its no surprise why, he's lost the sense of normality, his routine, everything he was used to. so he may as well do this. a lot of theos more interesting aspects only really show when hes interacting with emizel, so time to get to the fun part.

FIZZFANGS AS A WHOLE:

a very interesting thing is that emizel and theo act very differently when talking/interacting with each other than any other character. dialogue-wise, they both talk a lot faster and "messier" around one another, interrupting themselves and eachother to finish each others thoughts.

(episode 3)

just by their conversations, you can tell they're very close. this particular instance also has two other interesting things in it: theo asking what he can do to help emizel, and condi specifying that theo would be the only person emizel would tell about being a vampire. to address the first part, here is a complete list of all the times theo asks emizel what he should do/what he should do to help/etc (and this is an incomplete transcript, so ive probably missed a couple.)

"Alright, you lead the way man, let's do it." (ep 1)

"What's going on here? What do I do? What do you want me to do, man?" (ep 1)

"No man! I'm not leaving you, man! I can take him. I can still take him." (ep 1)

"I'm not leaving you, man!" (ep 1)

"Well, how can I help you with the non-soda related-?" (ep 3)

"Yeah! I mean... What should I do first?" (ep 3)

"So you just let me know whenever you need? I got you, bro." (ep 3)

"So, uh… Anything I can help with?" (ep 5)

"Don't worry, man. I got you. Where am I taking you?" (ep 5)

"So, um… how, c- how can I help you, man?" (ep 8)

this fucking crazy interaction:

(episode 3)

so it goes without saying that theo would do anything for emizel. and he does, he stays in the alley even after he gets hurt, he stays even after he watches emizel die. and when emizel crawls over to him, dazed and hungry for blood, he doesnt run. he only runs after emizel tells him to. another really important thing about their relationship is the fact that they're both a constant in each others lives.

(episode 8)

its kind of like they sort people into two boxes: "theo/emizel" and "everyone else." and the other will always be their highest priority. emizel drives to the other side of la just to see theo. after emizel dies in the club, his first instinct is to go find theo. theo is the only person that the unseen one appears as to him. in episode 8, the first step to his plan is finding theo.

(episode 6)

even if he hadn't just lot a good amount of emotional connection to the rest of his friends, i think he would still be a lot more urgent to go save him. and again, his first thought is to check if theo is there. if theo's okay, if he's safe.

(episode 5)

and theo does this too. he insists that emizel is his only friend, the only one he trusts. speaking of trust, that is the most crucial aspect to their relationship. they trust eachother a sickening amount, they regularly put their life in the others hands. when emizel drinks theos blood, its not "is he going to hurt me?" its "how can i make this the safest?" because theo trusts emizel not to hurt him, even after knowing he's killed ~12 people.

(episode 3)

and here, emizel trusts that theo loves him enough to be okay with this. note that arthur doesn't even bring up love, emizel is the first to. arthur only brings it up after emizel says that. because emizel knows that theo loves him and trusts him, emizel knows that theo would do anything for him.

(episode 9)

and emizel, notorious for not letting anyone close enough to hurt him, tells theo that if he wants to, not needs, wants, he can kill him. that theo can kill him, if he wants. because emizel doesn't fully trust himself alone, but he trusts himself when he's with theo.

and theo trusts emizel too. despite seeing what vampires can do in a frenzy, he trusts that emizel wouldn't hurt him, just as emizel trusts that theo would stop him before anything could ever happen. and emizel is a notorious liar, so we can assume that he doesn't/wouldn't lie to theo, which would explain why theo trusts him so much.

basically, they'll always be there for eachother and theo would do anything for emizel and emizel will always come back to theo in the end and they love eachother and despite everything they are together. theyre completely inseperable.

tl;dr: emizels main MOTIVATION is status, while the most IMPORTANT thing to him is theo

[venus616]

streets; {tasm!peter parker}

Pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader (writing challenge is tasm but you can interpret this as any peter parker if you so please)

Summary: and I can’t be without you, why can’t I find no one like you? (lyrics by doja cat, streets)

Part of @liz-allyn's 900th celebration! (congratulations btw <3) the prompt I chose to work with is "Not My Peter"; post no way home, tasm peter comes back to his home dimension with a new lease on life. problem is, another, identical peter parker is happy to take it for himself. that includes you.

Warnings: established relationship, smut, vaginal fingering/sex, dubious consent (dubcon), consensual non consensual (cnc), unprotected sex, morally gray, moral themes, 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N (PLS READ): this is a dark fic, please do not read if you are uncomfortable with these themes being explored or believe it will trigger you :( I am not responsible for the media/fics you consume, so only open at your own risk! ty~

more here: the aftermath | the bet

You anxiously checked your phone for any texts from Peter, awaiting his return by the time you got back from work today. Sometimes you wondered if it was worth having Spider-Man as a husband, but twice as much when he was doing multi-dimensional travel semi-regularly. You know that he wouldn’t be able to reach you if he was still on a different earth or universe or- 

Whatever he calls it. You find it difficult to keep up. 

So the only signal you would get that he was okay is when he texts you that he’s back safe. You walk into your shared apartment with groceries, carefully taking out the chocolate milk to put in the fridge for him. You hear chimes behind you and feel a cold breeze as you bend over with the fridge door open, but know it wasn’t coming from your area.

You immediately turn around and see the white eyes of his suit staring back at you from the distance in the shimmery portal of a vague, typical New York rooftop.

When you see one, your eyes scan from left to right, and notice there’s two of them. 

He also has explained the fact that there were Spider-Men, people (or anything) in countless universes to you before but you could never quite wrap your head around it. But, you remembered enough from those honest conversations to recognize that this was one of those cases. 

They seem deep in conversation, but you couldn’t tell who was who as the suits and physical builds were identical. Both had the masks fully on and they shook hands, perched on the edge of the roof. But, one continues to glance at you during. You waved for whichever one was yours and got your answer as the second pair of bug eyes turned back around to run towards you, waving a peace sign to the other Spider figure. 

As soon as Peter jumps back into your world, you wrap your hands around him, opening your eyes and catching the lifeless stare of the other Spider-Man before the portal closes. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” Peter says, slightly muffled underneath his mask. You grin while nuzzling your head in the crook of his neck before responding. 

“Good, I can’t afford to compete with the multiverse,” You feel his hand caressing your head, gently gesturing for you to look at him as he removes his mask. You instantly feel relief seeing him back with you, safe and not finding random injuries on him. 

Your hands immediately reach for his face, running over every line and crease of his smile from his cheeks to his eyes. 

“You’re always gonna be my number one priority. Remember?” Peter reminds you as he places his much larger hand over yours on his face, fingers pressed onto your ring. 

It had been a little over a year since the actual wedding, and you don’t think you’d get over the fact that you married the love of your life. 

“I love you,” You mutter, leaning into his personal space even more to kiss him. He accepts your advancement and kisses you back. His lips are chapped against your soft ones, but you love it all the same as the pressure he placed against them was so light. You almost lose your breath trying to reciprocate the softness he was providing you, dizzied when he echoes your words. 

“I love you, too.” 

Before you could even think, you laid beside Peter in bed, your hair disheveled while Peter’s just got even more messier than usual. The ache between your legs began to disappear as you hiked one knee across his legs and had your head resting on his chest. 

He holds you close while his breathing steadies and your focus on his heartbeat. 

“How was this one?” 

Your fingertips trace his pectorals while his arms squeeze your body in his grasp. 

He hesitates before starting. 

“You know how I’ve met versions of myself before?” You nod, planting your hand on his chest before lifting your head slightly to look up in his direction. 

“This guy was my twin.” Peter’s voice croaks hardly above a whisper. You only move to readjust yourself with your chin above your hands on his chest, laying down on your stomach to focus on whatever he’s about to say. 

“Twin,” You repeat.  

“Babe, it was like looking into a mirror,” He adds. There’s no punchline but his lips tug up at what he just said before chuckling humorlessly. 

“But we’re so different. He said that he feels stuck, that he’s not pulling his punches anymore. So I was trying to cheer him up, but he’s in a tough spot right now.” Peter shakes his head as he recalls it, and you furrow your eyebrows listening to him. 

“You look hung up about it,” You observe, concerned for Peter’s internal monologue. You know how he gets when he overthinks, and you know if he thinks he can help it, he’d be able to help everyone or fix everything. 

“What if I can help him?” He admits, confirming your suspicions. You shake your head, before lifting yourself from his body, taking a loose sheet to cover your chest as you move up to face him. 

“Maybe he doesn’t need your help?” You try to reason with him, not wanting to put himself at multiverse risk unless he absolutely needs to. It’s clearly important to him in more ways than you can ever understand because of how supposedly identical they were. You took Peter’s word for it but still, part of you couldn’t buy that this was his destiny to go help fix whatever part of his life that he’s in. 

“You don’t know that,” Peter sighs, frustrated as he’s still wracking his head around the last encounter. 

You can only imagine what they talked about. 

“You don’t either,” You point out. Peter’s big brown eyes meet yours. Gentle, still tired from the mission but also from the welcome back sex, pleading you to indulge him into his matyrdom. 

Peter clicks his tongue, more at himself than at you and you raise your eyebrow.

“Right.” He clarifies that it’s his thoughts that he’s criticizing. 

The next 48 hours were calm but you could tell Peter was more distracted than usual, presumably about his other self. 

You were getting ready for bed, taking melatonin to knock out as soon as possible after the long day you had. You slipped in the covers beside him, listening to his drawn out monologue about how it’s what's best and he’ll feel guilty if he doesn’t do it. 

“But it’s not your responsibility,” You remind him in a sleepy voice as your eyelids get heavier. Peter scowls, your vision doesn’t catch it entirely but you know he doesn’t agree. 

“Who would I be if I didn’t do anything to help myself?” You rolled your eyes at his sentiment. 

“Pete, I know I’ll never understand but you have to move on, your life is here,” You readjust your head on the pillows as Peter turns over to fully get into bed. You’re suspicious of him as his suit is in direct eyesight of you both from the closet. 

Peter is staring up ahead, probably not registering your pleas that his own life and responsibilities on the earth he’s from should be more important, also the fact that he shouldn’t be messing with the fate of another version of himself just because he feels obligated to help. 

For a man who was so logical, his moral reasoning seemed to go out the window when you rationalized the importance of leaving other people’s decisions and lifepaths alone. 

So much so that by the next morning, there’s an empty space next to you and his suit is gone. You stare at the empty hanger and let out an exasperated sigh with the note that was taped on your bedside table in hand. 

“I’m sorry baby, I have to do this. 

Just give me a few days.

Love you the most -Peter.”

This wouldn’t be the first time he ghosted you with only a note to explain, but he was going to get an earful from you by the time he gets back. You don’t know how you let him get away with as much as he does but you suppose those are the things that come with marriage. Marriage to a superhero came with an entirely different set of terms and conditions though. 

-

It was day 5 of Peter’s moral-responsibility escapade and you were getting terrified. You felt bad for constantly asking Miles if he or anyone from the several other dimensions had heard of anything but he was kind enough to keep you updated with as much as he knew. 

Of course, that meant the answer was always: 

“No, sorry Mrs. Parker.” 

You would sigh and hang up the phone. 

It was exhausting, not having your husband around but also knowing he was quite literally not in your dimension. 

You tried to do anything to alleviate your stress and imagined him eventually texting you that he’s okay and swinging home as soon as possible, knowing that it would only make you scared to imagine the opposite. 

You were cleaning the kitchen, carefully taking off your wedding ring to put on the counter so it wouldn’t rip your gloves and silently hoped that whenever Peter came back, he would be safe and not trying to continue fixing other people’s lives.

That evening passes by painfully but while trying to block out the thoughts through a self care routine for the night, you realize that this isn’t the longest Peter had been gone. He should be fine and he’ll come back happier, regardless of the outcome knowing that at least he tried. He deserves to come back feeling proud for knowing that he did what he could rather than leaving it at that. However, he was definitely pushing it as it was already more than a few days. 

You slip into one of your t-shirts that are really one of Peter’s and a pair of sleeping shorts, turning off the lights in the house until you hear a loud noise, like a pan's clattering in the kitchen. You’re afraid as you can’t be completely sure that it’s Peter coming back and that you very well could be in danger without him. You call out for his name and get no response. 

Light on your feet, you tip-toe through the hall towards where the noise is coming from and see an illumination of the light on the floor, knowing that it is a portal. He’s been going in and out of them so long you recognized the patterns easily enough. You turn on the light in the kitchen and see his figure in his tattered suit, ripped revealing his bruised and bloody skin underneath. 

You see that one of his gloves is hanging on by the seams, a wedding band tearing the fabric from underneath, blood decorating the silver. 

Rasping out his name, your hands reaching for his hand with the ring. His fingers immediately intertwine with yours, almost trembling and feeling desperate. 

His voice is low and guttural when he says your name, taking off his mask to reveal his face. You feel relief wash over you knowing that your baby is home again and hug him like you have so many times before. You hear him choking back a sob while his much taller frame is swallowing yours and cooed for him to relax, worried about what he saw in this dimension that’s warranting this reaction. 

“It’s okay baby, you’re back home now,” Is what you repeat, running your hand over his back, careful not to touch his wounds.

You lead him back into the bathroom, slowly stripping his suit off in silence knowing that he’ll speak when he wants to. He was acting a bit standoffish, staring at you and mute. You didn’t know what to say or the right questions to ask, so you ran the rag under the water and started gently cleaning the blood off of him. His suit was strewn across the floor, and boots were standing upright by the tub. You were thankful he had a few extras in the closet before having to sew anymore. 

Peter’s stare is empty, his brown eyes look black and he looks like he hadn't been sleeping since he left. You run your fingers across his cheeks softly as you always have but this time he flinches. You quickly remove your hands from his general bubble not wanting to alarm him as you’re still standing in between his legs as he’s seated on the edge of the bathtub. 

You know he regrets it when he grabs your hand to bring his cheek again, staring at you from below through his wet eyelashes. 

“‘M sorry bub,” He says it like he’s ashamed. You shake your head to reassure him, and can’t help but smile at the nickname. 

“You haven’t called me that in so long. Since we first started going out,” You remind him, smiling wider as you recall your earlier memories with him. A blush creeps up Peter’s cheek but he begins to smile back. He wraps his large arms around the small of your back to bring you closer, his face nuzzling on your tummy before his voice perks up. 

“Why did I ever stop?” 

You shrug, placing his chin in between your fingers so you can make eye contact with him. “We grew up.”

Peter nods, smiling tiredly, “Right.” 

He’s not acting much differently than he usually does when he first comes back, but he’s more injured than his past trips so you know that this time was different. 

“What happened with your twin?” You ask as you’re kneeled on the tiled floor before him. You’re cleaning up his scratches with alcohol and cotton balls, discarding the red and pink stained ones in the trash next to you. 

“Nothing,” He mumbles, wincing every time you run another cotton ball over a fresher gash. 

“Doesn’t look like nothing, Peter,” You scold him for not telling you everything. Your hands remain on the top of his thighs when you stand back up, your shorts riding right below your hips when Peter takes the pleasure of raising your t-shirt to kiss your body. 

You’re ticklish at the sudden affection, squirming underneath his sudden display of strength, lips and rough, calloused hands trailing all around your stomach until he stops. You catch your breath from the involuntary giggling he caused when he’s staring at your hips.

“Nine hundred and ninety-nine,” He comments, raising his eyebrow when you realize what he’s referring to. You snort at his confusion and the way he said it.

“You’re such a nerd, you know it’s nine-nine-nine.” You roll your eyes at his sudden awareness of your numerology tattoo. He scoffs with a smile, sighing at the sight of you. There’s a quiet pause and the silence lingering in the air. 

“Do you remember the day we got it?” 

Peter nods, but not without a favor. “Tell me, I’m already forgetting about it.” His grin widens. 

You shake your head flashing a toothy smile at him. He returns one back. “It was only a few years ago. Did you hit your head on a portal the way back?” You try to joke at his lack of memory today. 

He laughs along as you sit down on one of his thighs knowing he’d easily support your weight. You wrap your hands around his neck and stare longingly at him before recalling the memory. His stare is not as cold and distant as it was earlier, so you feel better around him again. 

“I just like listening to you talk, of course I remember.” He explains. 

You nod, failing to hide how good that made you feel. He readjusts his leg to hold you closer while your hands find their way in his hair again. 

“The night we met, I just kept seeing 9’s all day. It was 9 on the dot when I walked into the place we were at 9th avenue, it was September, the temperature was like 90 degrees. It was too much of a coincidence.” You can tell you’re rambling so you look back up from the spot you were staring at to see if Peter was still listening. 

Of course he was. He nods for you to continue. 

“And when I told you this a few years later, I felt like I was meant to meet you because it was the start of a new beginning. 999 is the angel number for it,” He furrows his eyebrows and you shake your head again. 

“Then you laughed at me because you’re such a geek and went on a tangent about probability,” You pause as Peter throws his head to the side, a small laugh escaping his throat from fake offense.

You also giggle but force yourself to continue, “But then you agreed, because of how important I became to you. I think we were on a date when I got a receipt telling you this and we were the 999th table served at that diner and then I said that this is our number, and you said we should get it tattooed.” 

He hangs onto every word as you recount the memory, he cuts you off with the ending of the story. “So we did it that day.” 

You nod, feeling a bit of relief. 

Your head is laying on his shoulder when he finishes the story, thinking about how many times you’ve rehearsed this explanation of how you had a matching tattoo with your boyfriend before you guys became engaged. 

“You tell it the best,” Peter interrupts your thoughts. 

You nuzzle your head in his chest and he takes the opportunity to scoop your body up in his arms by wrapping his other arm underneath your leg to take you to your shared bedroom. You squeal in surprise begging him not to move so suddenly or else he’ll get blood on the sheets but he ignores your requests and eventually you do too. 

When you’re making out with him, your back is pressed up against the bed feeling suffocated by the intensity and desperation of his kisses. You feel his erection through his boxers pressing up against your heat, just as frenzied for his touch as he is for yours. You moan in his mouth, eventually biting his lip when he tries to pull away to undress you as fast as he can. You’re only clad in your underwear by the time he’s pulling down his boxers but notice a difference.

Unsure if you’re seeing things you run your fingers over his skin on the right of his prominent v-lines and notice there’s not any remnants of swollen skin from your matching 999 tattoo with him. 

“Peter?” Your voice is small, still laced with lust, unsure if you were overreacting or not. 

Peter throws his boxers to the side, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand due to his swift strength while he uses his middle finger to play with your clit through your underwear. 

“Fuck, I missed this,” He pauses, staring at your heat before meeting your eyes again. “I missed you so much.” 

Your eyes narrow in confusion but it’s hard for you to focus on what he’s saying, not fully understanding but also trapped underneath his touch. 

“You’re scaring me,” You whimper and it only translates as a moan, breathy as his fingers move faster with your wetness collecting onto them as he pushes your panties to the side. “I’m right here Peter, I’ve always been right here.” You remind him, thinking that he’s alluding to the past few days. In his defense, they did feel like forever. 

Your arms struggle underneath his but you move involuntarily, feeling your cunt clench around nothing already. You moan his name on repeat, your breasts jiggling as your chest heaves up and down from his attention. 

“I had you before,” He slips one finger in. 

“And then I lost you,” Another finger enters.

Peter begins thrusting skillfully before you can think better of it. “I’m not risking that again.”

Your eyes widen at what he just said and the intensity at which his fingers are curling inside you. 

You think about the lack of tattoo, the subtle difference in mannerisms since he came back and the fact that Peter had just left in search of an identical version of himself. 

Feeling yourself become dizzy, the tightness in your stomach from the fact that you were about to cum mixed in with the fear and realization of the situation at hand. “Where’s Peter?” You choke out when he slows down, edging your high. 

He looks up at you, leaning down on your frame to kiss your cheek. You shudder, lip quivering from the onset of tears about to spill out. 

“I’m right here bub,” He whispers. Peter picks up the pace of his fingering and your legs close around his hand, not wanting him to go any further. He uses the hand that had been keeping your hands together to open your legs again to continue and you cum around him, sobbing silently at the nickname.

Your tears start to run on your face, salt streaking your skin. Your breath is uneven from the sobs and cumming simultaneously. 

“Where’s my Peter?” You place emphasis on the my even though your voice feels like chalk in your throat. You use your hands to support yourself sitting up, trying to keep your legs together when he removed his fingers from your cunt. He shakes his head at the attempt to close access off from him and pushes you back down on the bed, gently as you both know trying to defend yourself would be futile. 

You lay down in defeat, watching in shame how he wraps his legs around your waist while his hands are holding your arms above your head once again. 

“You know that deep down, I’m him.” Peter's eyes are blown out with lust, his cock standing tall against his lower abdomen. Your eyes trail past this and to the absence of the tattoo and feel the fear making your body frozen again. 

You close your eyes and shake your head as he leans down towards your face, trying your best to squirm underneath his body. 

“I’ll do anything you want, just don’t do this,” You sob weakly, your chest feels as though it’s going to cave in. “You’re not him but you don’t have to do this, please,” You cry a bit louder, but not enough for anyone to hear you. You quickly realize that it wouldn’t do any good for people to see someone who has the same exact identity as your husband hurting you, if you wanted any chance of seeing your Peter again. 

He slightly readjusts his hips above you and you think he’ll let you go, listening to your pleas but he just hikes up your legs in order to line up to your heat. You hear him chuckling slowly while your legs are instinctively wrapped around his legs, still shaking from how he made you come. 

“All I want is you.”

Your heart picks up its pace as you feel his head right underneath your clit and in between your lips, slowly entering you, feeling that space between your legs be fulfilled. Your guilt eats you up knowing that you were enjoying this, and he knew you were enjoying this, but him not being your actual husband. 

“Get off of me,” Is what you say but your hips say otherwise. Your moans get ragged as he continues to slowly thrust, allowing you to get used to his size before he picks up the pace. Your body moves back and forth as he does, fucking him back as you maneuever yourself up and down on his length. 

He removes his hands from holding you down, mainly to see what you do and you only wrap your chest in embarrassment, biting your lip as he stares down at you. 

“You can’t resist me baby,” He acknowledges, you sniffle. His hips thrust into you again, rocking down into you and you clench around him, causing you both to whine in pleasure. He hiked up your leg higher, flatter against your body as he grabbed the underneath of your thigh to go deeper. 

Your empty sobs fill the room as the bed under you creaks, he growls in response. “It’s all the same, in every universe you’re mine.” 

You shake your head at that, a thread of “No’s” filling your head but you can’t bring yourself to say it aloud. His cock thrusting in and out of you, his hand gripping you like you’re the only thing he can touch is clouding your mind. His toned body is slamming against your hips and you reach out to hold onto him as he gets rougher, wanting him to anchor you for the inevitable climax. 

“I love you just as much as him,” He continues, relishing in your high pitched mewls that he took as praise. He groans lower when you make eye contact with him as your hands grip onto his bicep. 

“Maybe even more.”

You shake your head, eyebrows pinching up and lips in a pout as you can feel the sobs coming back when you think about your Peter. You have no idea where he is right now. How you’ll explain yourself when he comes back.

If he comes back. 

You shake your head even faster and finally verbalize the “No’s” you’ve been wanting to say but couldn’t bring yourself to. 

Your legs become sore at the position he kept them in and presses his chest up against yours. He whispers in your ear, “The fact that I even did this for you says a lot.”

Your head is spinning. 

“I need you, more than you’ll ever know.” He grunts, his final thrusts feel like he’s about to split you open, he knows this by the way your eyes pinch together in pain and slows down for you, trying to ease the friction by using his thumb to play with your clit during. 

You separate your lips in relief and he uses the opportunity to gently kiss you. 

He’s not your husband, he’s not your Peter Parker. But you can’t even bring yourself to identify him as an evil version of your lover. Especially not when he kisses you like this. 

A version of him that refuses to make the right decisions, prioritizes the wrong things and goes out of his way to get what he wants is still him. Every part of you wants to scream that this is wrong, telling him that there’s another way and that you have to find a way to fix this, but you can’t think straight when he’s all there is in front of you. 

Kissing back, you’re desperate to feel him, any version of Peter, on your lips and you squirm underneath when his fingers rub faster on your clit. 

Your cunt tightening around his cock when you feel the tension snap in your stomach. Peter’s hips stutter at the feeling, cumming immediately inside of you and separating himself from you. He allows your legs  to relax, laying you back down fully when he removes himself from you. 

His fingers trace your tattoo, leaning down to kiss it before trailing down to your swollen, puffy cunt. 

“I’ll get a 999 tattoo too,” He says nine-nine-nine this time, smirking when you meet his eyes. 

“It’ll be a new beginning for both of us.”

It’s the last thing he says before going back in to eat you out, petrifying you to an unfamiliar degree.

[kkyeomies]

Im so excited to hear that you’re going to be writing again! I love seventeen, and idk if requests are open but I’d love to ask for a tiny seungkwan Drabble. maybe first time with seungkwan? where it’s cute at first but gets really steamy 😭 sorry if this is a weird request, feel free to ignore it ^^

hi anon, thank you for being my first request!!!!! i know you said drabble, but i... got very carried away. i hope i interpreted it the way u wanted :) my writing is still a bit rusty, so i also hope this is a tolerable read 🙏🏽

First Time

pairing - bf!seungkwan x reader

content- fluff, smut, new relationship, first time, reader is a virgin

warnings: none

word count- 2.1k

He was stumped. He had tried what seemed like every trick in the book, but he still couldn’t figure out why you didn’t want to have sex with him. You’d been dating for almost four months, and Seungkwan couldn’t help but feel like he was doing something wrong. He had never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to, of course, but by now, he simply couldn’t figure out why you shied away when he tried to go further. Despite this, you were still very affectionate toward him and expressed only love. Tonight, however, Seungkwan decided he would put an end to his agony, whichever way it would end.

”Baby, can I ask you something?”

You look down at his face from where he lays on your lap, both of you currently in his bed relaxing and listening to music. His soft black locks weaved through your fingers as you brushed them back in a soothing motion. You always thought he looked the most beautiful like this, face free of worries or cares, just enjoying the time between the two of you. 

As you held eye contact with him, you could see a hint of hesitation in his deep brown eyes. Offering him a warm smile, you reply.

”Have I ever said no to that question?”

Seungkwan moved up from your lap to sit, leaning on the headboard next to you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it slightly.

”Am I doing something wrong? Like, to make you uncomfortable? Or is it something I said? I promise I can fix it- just let me know, and I’ll d-“

”Whoa, sweetie, where is this coming from?”

You sit up a little straighter, trying to understand where this is heading. You could feel him playing with your fingernails, something he often did when he was anxious about something. 

He hesitates again before saying, “It’s just that, well, we’ve been together for a while now, and every time I try to… go further… you don’t seem to like it, so I don’t know if … ” His voice fizzles out to a whisper at the end of his insinuation, anticipating the worst possible answer from you. Instead, he was surprised to see your face heat up in embarrassment as the weight of his words sunk in.

In just a moment, your positions switched. His dependant grip on your hand turns reassuring, and he scoots a little closer to drape his other arm over your shoulder to draw you into him.

”Hey, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable. Forget I even mentioned it.” He copies your warm smile from earlier as he lifts your chin to meet his eyes. As much as he wanted an answer to his troubles, it wasn’t worth any pain on your part.

You look down at your intertwined fingers before speaking, “It’s just- I’ve never had sex before.”

Frankly, he was shocked. He had never even considered that an option. He knew you had dated before and just assumed you had experience (in his eyes, you were too attractive to be a virgin still), but now he felt like an idiot.

”I’m so sorry, baby, I just thought- I shouldn’t have assumed. We can wait until whenever you want to.” He pressed a small kiss to your head as he pulled you closer into his arms.

“Well, it’s not that I don’t want to. I’m just afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Messing up, I guess. What if you don’t like it, or I can’t make you feel good?”

He sat up to face you better before saying, “I don’t think you’ve ever made me not feel good.” 

You scoffed lightheartedly, amused by his flattery, but he looked dead serious.

“I’m not kidding. I promise you nothing you could do would ever make me feel bad, and you know I’d take good care of you, too. Plus, it doesn’t have to be perfect. It's a ‘first time’ for a reason, silly.” His reassuring tone put you at ease. You had no doubt he would take care of you; he’s proved that to be true every day you’ve been together. 

You had been replaying that conversation since it occurred over two weeks ago. The more you thought Seungkwan’s words, the more your fear dissipated, leaving an unfamiliar sense of excitement in your belly. 

You and Seungkwan were settled on the couch for your first movie night in a while. It was his first day off of schedules, and he wanted to spend it cuddled up with you.

“What’s wrong, honey? Did I choose the wrong flavor of ice cream?”

“I’m ready.”

“Huh?”

You took a deep breath before declaring, “I want you to take good care of me, Kwannie.”

His confused face shifted as it clicked in his head, and in less than a minute, he had swept you away to the bedroom. In one fluid move, he laid you down on the bed and settled himself in between your hips. He was wasting no time as he pulled his hoodie off, littering kisses down your neck and chest. As he pulled back for a breath, you could catch a good look at his face, shining with a newfound energy.

“You know how long I’ve waited for this moment, baby? All I want to do is make you feel good. Will you let me do that, hmm?” 

You could only offer him a whimper, both taken aback and extremely turned on by this new side of him you were seeing. He dove back in to capture your lips while stripping the both of you down. Soon, you were situated between the soft sheets underneath you and the cage of Seungkwan’s arms. The temperature was becoming borderline unbearable as your skin heated up with passion and anticipation. 

He shifted down your body slowly, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses all over your stomach and thighs. His hands roamed over your breasts gently, causing your nipples to perk up and a cool shiver to wash over you. When he reached the foot of the bed, he dropped to his knees on the floor and moved your legs onto his shoulders, spreading you open in all your glory. Seungkwan couldn't hold back his low groan after seeing you already wet and ready for him to dive in. You gasped as his tongue finally met your folds; he was really wasting no time. To be honest, you had never expected him to be this forward. He always treated you like you were something precious, so gentle, so caring, but now he was so… rough. But you would be lying if you said you didn't like it.

You were brought back down to earth when Seungkwan moved up to your clit and slid two fingers into your entrance. With a gasp, you propped yourself on your elbows to look at his face. You could see his eyes were clouded with lust as he looked up at you, maintaining a hurried pace with his mouth. It was too much all at once; you dropped back down with a loud moan, causing him to rut against the side of the bed. He had never been this hard in his entire life, but he was determined to get you to finish first before he even thought of touching himself. He always knew you would taste good but never expected it to be this amazing.

“Fuck, I’m so close, baby, don’t stop!” You could barely get the words out before he slipped in a third finger, hitting that sweet spot right on the nose. Your face was scrunched up in pleasure; you had never felt this good.

“Come for me, baby, wanna feel you cum around me.” 

With a few more thrusts of his fingers, you felt your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, washing over you from head to toe. You swore your vision blacked out for a second from the intensity.

By the time you came to your senses, Seungkwan had moved back up your body and was softly sucking hickeys into your neck and jaw.

“You did so good for me, honey, so good.” 

Still trying to catch your breath, you held the back of his head to pull him into a searing kiss. Your manicured nails grazing his scalp almost knocked him out; he let out a small huff as he pressed his forehead to yours, brown eyes meeting yours. 

“I love you so much, you know that? My sweet angel, so beautiful,” he murmurs, planting a soft kiss on your forehead as he reaches over to his nightstand to pull out a condom. You finally got a good glimpse of his hard cock as he rolled the rubber on; you had seen his dick before, but never this hard. The tip was an irritated shade of red, clear that he had been struggling for too long. 

“Wait.” 

Seungkwan paused what he was doing to look up at you, bewildered. You grabbed his arm to lead him to sit against the headboard and straddled his thighs. He looked up at you, slightly amused, and you said, “It’s my turn to take care of you.” 

He honestly thought he could’ve died then and there. The way your hair fell around your shoulders, framing your flushed face, and the borderline painful grip you had on his biceps nearly crushed him. He had never seen you like this, and it drove him crazy.

“I love you so much Kwannie, so much.”

You gave him no chance to respond as you sank down on him. Both of you let out loud groans, the tight fit sending pleasure throughout your bodies. You were grateful to gravity for helping you out, the sensation too overwhelming to focus on pushing it in voluntarily.

“You’re so tight, oh my God. Don’t move, please,” he sobbed. His hands flew to grip your hips with a grasp so tight you thought he would draw blood. You were left with nowhere to escape as the tip of his cock pressed against the deepest part of you, showing no mercy as he took the time to compose himself. He almost came when the entrance of your pussy squeezed his tip and couldn’t even think of continuing if you started moving right away. 

“You’re so big- fuck, baby. Can’t believe you even fit.”

Seungkwan groaned partly in pleasure and in panic as he desperately attempted to delay his orgasm. There was no way he would cum without seeing your face when you reached your high again.

After a few moments, you both were steady enough to return to reality, and you slowly started rutting against him. With each swivel of your hips, your moans got louder, and in no time you were bouncing up and down on his dick. Seungkwan’s grip only got tighter (if that was even possible) when he could feel himself hit that gummy spot inside you. He moved one of his hands up to your hair to pull your head back and expose your neck, where he returned to his previous marks that were already bruising beautifully. With an almost wicked smirk, he leaned into your body, nipping at your already sensitive skin. You jolted to a halt as the feeling shot down to your clit. It had been just a few minutes since your first orgasm, but you could already feel your second one fighting its way to the surface. 

“Can’t believe I’m the first one to see you like this, fuck! You look so sexy, baby, all fucked out for me. My pretty baby, you’re mine, right? You’re all for me? Only me.” 

Before you could respond, he had flipped you both over. You were back in the position you started in, and Seungkwan took the extra step to move your calves onto his shoulders. This was the deepest he had hit all night, fully bottoming out into you. Neither of you was going to last any longer. 

“Only you- Fuck- I’m coming again!” 

His pace was unrelenting as he got you to your second high of the night. You clenched around him for the last time, finally coaxing his orgasm. He fully came within a few more sturdy pumps before slowing to a stop, panting like crazy.

You took a little longer to recuperate, at which time Seungkwan had disposed of the condom and prepped a warm towel to clean you up.

“So beautiful, my love. You did such a good job. I’m so proud of you,” he kissed your temple firmly. This was better than any ending he could’ve imagined.

i hope u enjoyed :) feel free to let me know if anything is wrong or if my writing can be improved, i haven't written anything in like two years 😭 send any requests u have, I'll slowly get to them!

[bolithesenate]

Hi! For some reason it wont let me ask from the blog I want it to, which is why the random name, but I really love your stuff! Quick question - what do you think would he Dooku/Sifo Dyas/Jocasta/Jaster’s main rule(s) for Padawans/foundling-child-thingy?

Sorry if this is boring or smthing its just Ive decided your word on these things is law!

Thank you!!! Xxxxxxx

eyyy!! never apologize for blessing my inbox with asks! especially not about the blorbos!!

Now, I'm not entirely sure on what you mean with 'what their main rules on children' are.... but that just means my answer gets to be more elaborate.

Sifo-Dyas:

In my head he is the most child loving of the bunch. He would THRIVE on taking a Padawan and honestly I could even see him have a biological child most out of all four of them. But he bars himself from either because of his visions – since there's no telling on how they would interact with a Master/Padawan bond or smt similar he isn't willing to risk a child's wellbeing for his own desires.

That being said, he lives all the more vicariously through Dooku and Jocasta when they take Padawans. (As well as visits the Crèche any day he can) In any universe he and Jaster are a thing he definitely tries his best to be of assistance there as well, even if just as a long-distance-father. He doesn't care if someone claims it's attachment. Raising children is only good and just and if he can help in ANY capacity he will do so and you'd have to kill him first to make him stop.

(And even then his Force ghost probably would find ways to meddle)

Dooku:

Dad-in-denial-supreme.

His stuck-up ass will loudly proclaim he doesn't like children and that they are too noisy and erratic and then turn around and immediately take the next best street urchin under his wing. Provided they look at a lightsaber with even a modicum of interest.

I mean, considering the NUMEROUS apprentices he has in the different flavors of canon (Rael, Qui-Gon, Komari, Sev'rance, Grievous, Assaij, Savage) this man simply is MADE to teach.

In fact, people wiser than me (hi Jess), have famously said that he'll actually go stir-crazy if he doesnt have someone to drill in makashi.

He isn't the best at emotions, but that's what he has Sifo for. And also he WILL offer each and every one of his Padawans/Apprentices/pseudo-children a place in House Serenno's actual lineage, even if just to spite his dead father and brother. But only after they turn 18/are knighted. Whichever comes first. (similarely to Jaster, he refuses to paint any more of a target on a child's back than strictly necessary)

Jaster:

As absolutely child-loving as most Mandos are. He would have adopted many more children already if not for the target that his existence as Mand'alor paints on them.

So while he tries to find them good homes, unless he is directly responsible for them or honor bound in some other way to adopt, he might refuse to say the words (even if it pains him gravely).

In any universe where he's in a relationship with the rest of the blorbos, you better bet he sees their Padawans as his foundlings-by-extension. Even if all the Jedi WILL argue that it is not the same (except Sifo, Sifo can has and will support this interpretation of the Master-Padawan bond until his dying breath). Although, again, he might not ever make it official. Politicians have many enemies. MANDALORIAN politicians doubly so. That isn't beneficial for a child's health long-term.

In any universe where he never gets to be Mand'alor tho he has like 10 foundlings MINIMUM.

Jocasta:

Last but not least. For her, children/padawans were a very distant thought most of her life. Biological ones she would never have in my opinion – either she's infertile to begin with or she got a permanent solution to prevebt pregnancy early on.

And while she did eventually take on three Padawans (yes, Olee counts even if she was stolen from her), she always considered them more students/peers than children in the familial sense. She just isn't very maternal in any capacity, but that is fine.

While she isn't involved a lot in the child-rearing aspects of whatever kids the other three drag along, she very much IS always up for bending some rules in favor of her precious nepo-niblings. Being the Head Archivist lets you get away with quite a bit.

Especially if it ultimately benefits the kid in question academically.

I hope the answer you were looking for is in here, otherwise let me know! I'm always up for talking more about the blorbos!

[1yyyyyy1]

Since you are very against being in a sexual or romantic relationship with a male but you also mentioned being 99% osa how do you navigate that? If feelings ever come up do you feel disgust and shame or just accept it and let them go? Did they dissipate over time when you came to certain realisations?

The answer is simple: fiction! I have vivid imagination and come up with engaging scenarios with ease. I believe that there is no harm in being attracted to fictional men as well as exploring your attraction through fiction. Fiction can be therapeutic in the absence of a safe environment, which is the case with risk-prone activities like heterosexuality. My understanding of male sexuality has increased exponentially in the past year and I can attest that it is a violent thing to be put through. The further I delve into human history and biology, the more I realize that I am attracted to my idea of what a man is and their physical body and not what they represent as a biological class. It is not a secret that I am a heavy proponent of biological essentialism and it is what majority of my views stem from. My goal is not to convince anyone; the mainstream explanation for sexed behavior simply does not cut it for me. My current understanding of heterosexual dynamics is as follows: men are genome recombinants, are a recent evolutionary development and their reproductive imperative takes up the majority of their cognition. Men are compelled cognitively to mate with as many females as possible to recombine the human genome. It is a solid interpretation of men's propensity for infidelity outside of cultural practices. My standard for a fulfilling relationship is sexual exclusivity, a quality men are incapable of providing. Their ultimate satisfaction will always be sexual novelty, be it physical or imaginary. You will never be special to him the way he is to you and you can never be certain he is not using your body to masturbate to the thought of someone else. Your subordinate place in societal hierarchy ensures he will not suffer the pangs of conscience as you were never meant to matter in the first place. Men will never be willing to give up these sexual patterns because they are rewarded every step of the way for exhibiting them, and patriarchy ensures they are met. Men are adept at concealing the fickleness of their attraction and there is no length that a man will not go to to maintain a woman's trust. A heterosexual relationship is a union of convenience to the male, not bonding. There is no difference between dating a man and believing he is loyal and turning to imagination because both are a fantasy. The latter guarantees the absence of domestic violence and STDs; it is a deal that is too good to pass up. We live in an era where we are able to exit the system not only physically, but emotionally as well. I live a fulfilling life letting my imagination run its course and I would deeply regret it if I had it any other way.

I do not feel bad about myself. Feelings are unconscious and berating yourself for the things you have no say in is counterproductive. I accept my feelings as they come because they are a useful indicator. What we are in control of is our actions, and our actions, in turn, mould our range of emotions after a healthier mindset. Questioning whichever preferences bring you the most comfort is a good start. For as long as your objective is to make peace with your attraction, you will succeed. My attraction to men did lessen as my knowledge progressed, I hardly see the appeal anymore. I am so engrossed in my fantasy of a man who is different cognitively yet engaging either way I find external input redundant. It has been a year since I committed to this mindset and my mental and physical health have been on a steady incline, so my personal anecdote can be a testament to its efficacy. I cannot stress enough how small of a time frame a year is when it comes to something as profound as a world view shift. I encourage anyone who is in doubt to try and distance themselves from heterosexual relationships in the material world as it is safe to assume that attempting to reframe, not denounce, a man's presence in your life has been the very thing that led you down the path of disturbance. The decision does not have to come from a place of disdain for the male kind, but respect for your internal compass. There is no shortage of feminists who partner men and swear by their devotion which should pose reassurance yet you keep looking for answers; I intuitively know that something is off and I assume that you do as well. You should listen to your intuition and compare your states, past and present, after trying things out. Being at ease with your attraction is possible and I wish for you to successfully figure your approach out.

[sevensoulmates]

Spec on what Tommy's (possible) sexuality might be?

In relation to some spec I'm seeing going around about how Tommy identifies his sexuality, I'm so curious to see what that's gonna be and how he came to figure it out.

Here's what we know:

Tommy had a girlfriend in Chimney Begins because Captain Gerrard asked Tommy when his girlfriend was coming by the station to cook them all dinner. But then again he was kinda cagey in answering the Captain about her coming.

In Hen Begins, Sal insinuates that Tommy is "more of a Team Jacob kind of guy" aka Gay because Tommy finds Kristen Stewart "too broody". Tommy takes this in stride, sending Sal a joking air kiss, but it's by far the biggest hint we've gotten about Tommy possibly not being straight during the time he worked with the 118. However this line was likely originally intended to show casual workplace homophobia in order to make Hen uncomfortable, and not really to be like "oh hey Tommy's queer". But it ends up working out for the writers that they already had this tidbit in here.

In Bobby Begins Again Tommy tells Hen and Chim "I'm telling you, single is easier. Having the scars impresses women, getting 'em freaks 'em out." Which heavily implies dating/being attracted to women. In the same conversation, he later brings up a quote from Fight Club the movie, and in case anyone wasn't aware, has long been interpreted as a queer allegory due to large amounts of homoerotic material in the source material and film adaptations.

All of that being said, there are arguments for Tommy possibly being bisexual, or possibly being an in-the-closet gay man. Whichever direction they choose to take Tommy will be telling for the future of the plot for different reasons.

If Tommy ends up being bisexual like Buck, then more than likely they'll end up having a lot of parallels to experiences Buck has had in the past, further cementing to the audience that Buck has been bi this whole time but just didn't realize it. It could also parallel Buck's current situation (hiding him and Tommy from Eddie + the 118) and possibly the catalyst for Buck to come out to the rest of the 118.

But, if Tommy ends up being gay, and had to hide it and/or repress it for most of the time he had been with the 118, that could prove very interesting for the ways in which he strongly parallels Eddie.

7x04 spent a lot of time hammering home to the audience that Tommy is extremely similar to Eddie. I wouldn't be surprised if they take this a step further by having Tommy have a queer experience similar to how many of us believe Eddie's to be. That being growing up in a hypermasculine environment, filled with shame and plenty of reasons to repress and/or keep that information to himself. And only figuring out who he is later in life.

Personally, I would prefer it if they went this route with Tommy. Not only because I think it would strongly parallel a possible queer Eddie storyline, but it would also provide a contrast for Buck. By that I mean if Tommy says "well, my relationships with women never felt right, and I realized later it's because I wasn't attracted to them at all" then Buck can firmly place himself in the bisexual category in contrast by clarifying that he was and still is attracted to women, but now realizes he likes men too. And it doesn't hurt that it could be possible foreshadowing for Eddie, and/or parallels to Eddie's storyline with Marisol in the episode with something possibly not feeling right between them.

Either way, I'm excited to see to learn more about Tommy in 7x05. I'm also hoping for a bit more acknowledgment for how shitty he was to Hen and Chim in the beginning. It's a good way to show 10+ years of character development in one convo.

[hellcatsandcars]

long post! milex inspired rambling!! you have been warned!!!

not to be That Guy but i am asking everyone who - just like myself - likes to speculate about miles and alex and their personal lives (very much far away from them so that our speculations don't make anyone uncomfortable, thank you very much) to stop for a second.

there's been a trend lately of people kind of... piling up heartbrokenness (?) on miles, and portraying a sort of break-up situation between the two of them after the end of the eycte tour. that's fair enough! lyrics interpretation can definitely be used to back those ideas, go off!

but also, since a lot of people have used the "alex was not ready to come out, they fell out as a consequence of this" trope (which again, fair enough, whatever waters your crops) i am asking you to actually stop and consider what this means with a bit of empathy.

a large part of the fanbase is queer, in whichever direction that may be. a lot of us have gone through the five stages of gay grief when we found out because, despite the bubble we create for ourselves on the internet, there are a lot of real life issues connected to queerness that we will simply have to learn to deal with. that being said, i find it sort of... mean, i guess, the way that people are using the very real issue of being torn between coming out (and the many, many consequences that follow) and maintaining a "secret" relationship, which as far as we know might have been secret only to the public. especially given the added weight of fame, i would also be very hesitant to have a relationship exposed for everyone to see, comment on, judge, or discuss like it's just another segment in the news.

alex is beyond private, as is his right. we as fans grow to have a sort of parasocial expectation of him to share facts about himself (since we may feel that we are "owed" that intimate knowledge) and we gossip about him endlessly and we pick apart every single interaction or relationship he has. if we do all this in private, and bearing in mind that it's not something we are actually in any way involved in ourselves, it's okay. i'm not dictating what people do on the internet because that'd be beyond pointless.

but please, especially if you're queer yourself: how would it feel to have a part of your life ruthlessly exposed for the world to see, slipping entirely out of your control? how would it feel to be the villain simply because you don't want to come out, or don't want to divulge private information?

this is not to say that you can't write or imagine these scenarios, but maybe try to have a bit of empathy when you do. sometimes coming out really isn't a feasible option, and there's nothing evil or cowardly about that.

[longing-for-rain]

I know you said no bait asks, and I promise this isn't, I'm genuinely curious to hear an opinion from a Zutara shipper who seems pretty rational. (I am not a kataang fan either by the way so I'm not trying to argue that or anything.). Do you believe that Zutara is a feminist relationship in comparison to Kataang? And what are your reasons for being so strongly invested in Zutara?

Hi, thanks for the ask. I’ll do my best to explain my feelings on this, but to summarize, I think there are two questions here that aren’t inherently related: a) is Zutara feminist and b) why do I like it so much. I know this might surprise you, but even though Zutara is my OTP, I don’t consider it inherently feminist. Let me explain though because that doesn’t mean it’s a bad ship at all.

Obviously, I really like the characters together. However, I won’t go ahead and say it’s the “feminist” choice over kataang, because personally I think that discussing whether a female character has a feminist narrative should not center around which man she ends up with. The primary focus should be on her narrative independently. And if she doesn’t have an independent narrative, well…that’s not feminist at all.

But I’ll answer in more detail below because I think this is an interesting distinction.

a) Is Zutara feminist over Kataang?

Like I said above…no, not inherently. I think what this question is getting at is which relationship gives Katara as a character a feminist narrative, which is a tricky question. Only one of these ships is canon, so we only know how one relationship would have played out in the eyes of the creators. Everything else is up to the interpretation of fans.

First things first, I absolutely do not think kataang, as portrayed in canon, adds to Katara’s independent narrative as a character, and certainly doesn’t contribute to any potential feminist narrative of her character. There are many instances of Katara being damseled and/or generally reduced in complexity whenever she’s placed in a “romantic” situation involving Aang. Despite Katara also being a main character, the “crush” is portrayed entirely through Aang’s POV. And post canon, Katara ends up being relegated to the role of a healer who stays home at the South Pole (this is why I could never get invested in LoK). Which, if you paid attention to her character at all, was something she explicitly stated she didn’t want to be and fought to escape. Ending her story that way reversed any “feminist” narrative set up in ATLA. So no, this is not a narrative that centers Katara and her ambitions at all.

Now onto fanon content.

The beauty of fanon is that it’s completely up to interpretation. Fans can give the characters whichever narratives they want. This goes for both Zutara and kataang. Just because your ship is canon doesn’t mean you have to adhere to canon; many canon shippers write “fix it” type content or otherwise make changes to the canon relationship to make it more appealing to them. I’m sure there are kataang shippers who rewrite their canon relationship to give Katara a feminist narrative, but to be honest the ship just doesn’t appeal to me at all so I haven’t seen those, but I’m not saying they don’t exist.

Now, Zutara. Even though there are definitely some hints in the series, there was nothing explicitly romantic between these characters in canon. So, fans are free to interpret how a relationship between Zuko and Katara would play out, and therefore Katara’s narrative within that relationship. Some people do make a strong effort to give Katara a feminist story, and in my experience, this is often a direct response to canon. But on the other side of the coin, some people absolutely…do not. It’s a big ship with lots of content. Some of it gives Katara’s character a feminist narrative, some of it…does the exact opposite of that. I think anyone familiar with the ship is probably well aware of some of the unsavory tropes associated with it so I won’t get into that.

But anyways, for any ship, there is a variety of content featuring Katara. Sometimes she’s a great warrior, sometimes she plays an important political role, and sometimes she’s just treated like a slave. Sometimes she has her own wants and ambitions and sometimes her story revolves entirely around whichever male character the author is thirsty for. Sometimes she’s treated as a complex human being and sometimes she just exists to be a fetish. Which again, goes for literally any ship and character you can think of.

So when asking yourself if Katara is given a feminist narrative, asking which man she’s paired with is asking the wrong question. Instead the focus should be on Katara herself and what the message of the story says about her.

b) Why do you like Zutara?

Although you can probably tell from the above, I do consider myself a feminist and enjoy analyzing media from that perspective. But honestly, that has little to do with why I like this relationship so much.

Sorry if this answer is boring, but I just…like them. Everyone has different tastes. For me, I was immediately drawn to them watching the show as a kid, because I’m a sucker for that sort of hurt/comfort dynamic they had going on in books 2-3. Growing up and taking a closer look, I also found that I see Zuko and Katara as having a lot of similar values and personality traits that I feel would make them compatible in a relationship. Also, there’s the fact that I just really like Katara and Zuko as individual characters so I like the fact that Zutara allows me to explore both characters by themselves, as well as how they interact together.

But if I’m being real, the final Agni Kai scene is what sold me. The emotional intensity of that scene just had me hooked for life. It’s really not much deeper than that, but yes, I’m extremely obsessed and emotionally invested in this ship.

And yes, I do write a lot of Zutara fic and do my best to give Katara independent goals and ambitions and agency as a character. I do my best to write her in a way that portrays a feminist narrative because I personally find that important. But that’s something I could apply to any ship. I don’t think it’s inherently feminist to ship Zutara, because like I said earlier, it completely depends on the individual fans and how they interpret it. I like interpreting it in a way that gives Katara individual power and goals, but that’s just me. Not everyone writes Zutara the same way.

Hope that answers your question ❄️

[13eyond13]

Hello, new Death Note fan here. First, thanks so much for this blog of yours. Because it came out 10+ years ago, I'm afraid will hard to find any active DN acc until I came to your blog. I understand more about Death Note's characters and story thanks to you...💐

I just start DN anime and manga last year (I know it's so late), because many people said in reviews that DN is not that good and mostly overrated. After finishing it, I think, how wrong that opinion was....

Do you mind if I ask some questions :

- Is Beyond Birthday became like that because of A's suicide?

- I read somewhere that Death Note (especially L and Light's relationship) is subtext mlm like Hannibal NBC & Merlin BBC, do you agree?

- One of my friend is DN fan since 2008, and every time she watched (more than 100x) L's death, she still cried. And coping it with read L/Light fics, are you like that too?

- "L and Light are both ace and aromantic", do you agree?

- Until the end, does L figure out it was Light = Kira the whole time?

- If Mello and Near work together from the start, can Light got captured more early?

- If Light were female, do you think L/Light ship will be more common?

- Until now, have you found any couple (canon or non canon) from any media (books, tv series, movies, anime/manga, etc) that the dynamics remind you of L/Light?

- "If Ryuk were an ikemen, than Light/Ryuk ship will be more popular than Light/L", do you agree?

- Do you prefer L as top or bottom or switch with Light? Why?

- In what moments that you start ship Light with L?

Sorry for my long ask (got too excited) feel free to answer whichever you want to. Thanks @13eyond13 ....

Hi! Aw, thanks for the kind words, and I'm so glad my blog is still helping new fans out that way somehow! 😊

Let me try to quickly answer your questions here (sorry if the answers aren't very in-depth, I don't have a computer with me currently and I'm just replying to you with my phone)

- Did Beyond Birthday become like that because of A's suicide?

This is not something that is commented on directly in the novel, so it's up to fan interpretation and headcanons for that! There is only one sentence about A, and we actually don't even know if A and B knew each other or interacted with each other in any way:

Personally I DO think it's fun to imagine it's part of B's past that he and A did know each other and that it did affect him somehow, but I'm not sure if his character was actually written with that notion in mind.

- I read somewhere that Death Note (especially L and Light's relationship) is subtext mlm like Hannibal NBC & Merlin BBC, do you agree?

I think you can definitely easily read homoerotic subtext into their relationship, but I also believe most of it was not really intentionally put there by the manga creators Ohba and Obata. I think SOMETIMES there were deliberate suggestive jokes and whatnot in the manga that indicated there was some level of awareness that things between them could be seen as suggestive – like when Matsuda is questioning them only sharing their cell phone numbers with each other, and when Misa questions L's orientation whenever he handcuffs himself to Light. That doesn't mean that reading them or their relationship in a shippy way isn't valid or legitimate or interesting to do! Just that I dont think it was written with the writer knowingly going into things like "ohoho time to slyly queerbait the audience!" or something. I think Hannibal's creators were extremely deliberate with everything homoerotic that goes on between Will and Hannibal for example, but I think it happened a bit more unintentionally in Death Note originally.

- One of my friend is DN fan since 2008, and every time she watched (more than 100x)  L's death, she still cried. And coping it with read L/Light fics, are you like that too?

Haha oh wow 100x! I'm not like that personally because I had L's death spoiled for me by a comment I saw on the very first episode of the anime, so I knew it was coming! I was still really upset about it of course, he IS my fave. But actually Light's death in the anime gets a stronger emotional reaction from me than L's. I think I only ever cried during Death Note at that part where Light is thinking about his younger innocent self while he's wounded and running away, something about it gets me every time... And yes, I definitely wanted to read a lot of fics to resolve all my messy feelings about the two of them afterwards!

- "L and Light are both ace and aromantic", do you agree?

I can see why people might see them that way, though it's not my personal headcanon for them! It's one of those things people can decide for themselves rather than something I think there is an objectively "correct" answer about, really.

- Until the end, does L figure out it was Light  = Kira the whole time?

I'm not 100% sure if I'm understanding your question correctly. But I think L is always something like "PRETTY DARN SURE" Light is Kira, though he also knows he needs to have the concrete proof to back that certainty of his up. He DOES know it without a doubt once he actually has his heart attack and sees the look on Light's face in the manga, though! He thinks something like "I knew it! I wasn't wrong..." before his eyes close. Which in some way is maybe a small comfort, to know that he was able to solve this ultimate mystery for himself and know he was definitely correct about it before he died.

- If Mello and Near had worked together from the start, could Light have been captured more early?

A very good question! I unfortunately feel a bit too rusty on my successor arc plot stuff to know how to answer this one well, but I do think that Near and Mello made a very effective team whenever they collaborated, for sure.

- If Light were female, do you think L/Light ship will be more common?

I don't know if it would be more COMMON necessarily, but perhaps it would just have a slightly different sort of fanbase and legacy as a ship? I think a lot of people kinda like, and have always liked, how gay it is though? and I don't know if that really hurt the ship's popularity so much as maybe increased it even. But I'm definitely not an expert on this stuff or anything, hahaha

- Until now, have you found any couple (canon or non canon) from any media (books, tv series, movies, anime/manga, etc) that the dynamics remind you of L/Light?

Not exactly like it, no! It's quite unique to me in many ways. MAYBE the closest thing I can think of right now is NBC Hannibal, simply because of the unresolved tension and morbid dark humour and constant innuendo and cop/criminal investigative sort of stuff going on between them? But I think canon Hannigram was darker in some ways than I find canon Lawlight to be, and the parallels aren't exact by any means...

- "If Ryuk were an ikemen, than Light/Ryuk ship will be more popular than Light/L", do you agree?

Hahaha, I feel like it would be more popular as a ship than it currently is, but I'm not sure it would eclipse Lawlight! I feel it's hard to beat the antagonistic chemistry L and Light have simply due to how their roles are set up in the story as the detective and the criminal and whatnot.

- Do you prefer L as top or bottom or switch with Light? Why?

I prefer it when they take turns in fics and don't stick rigidly to one thing or the other! I think maybe because it seems realistic to me that they'd want to experiment that way with each other, and also because I just find it more interesting to read smut if they're doing stuff in a variety of ways.

- In what moments that you start ship Light with L?

I think I basically immediately felt a strong tension and chemistry between them. But I was introduced to things via the anime, and the rain scene definitely seemed extremely shippy to me and like "there's no way they weren't into each other" hahah. I think the rain scene was the main reason I went looking for shippy content about them afterwards. But I find that the manga is actually shippier to me than the anime sometimes, even though that rain scene isn't in it. Maybe because to me it feels a bit more like they're mentally and emotionally on the same page about things more often in the manga, and both seem pretty aware of the sly mind games they're playing with each other the whole time. And Light stays very fixated on and oddly reverent towards L after his death in the manga as well, which ultimately remains probably the shippiest thing about them in canon to me...

[lemonhemlock]

hi! I wanted to know your opinion, I also love helaegon, but even in books it is written about aegon's infidelities. do you think he loved Heleina romantically if he was cheating? yet before B&C they slept together

i ship helaegon, so yeah, i do think there was romantic love woven into their sibling bond. which, in and of itself, is a curious and fucked-up starting point to expand upon. was he a perfect husband? lol no. sure, fire & blood doesn't stop to spell out every relationship and interaction between these people, bc the medium just doesn't allow for it.

but we do know some things about helaena. she is hinted to have been a very popular and charismatic person - she was an involved mother to three children, was beloved by both alicent AND viserys. even rhaenyra didn't have any particular beef with her. the common people loved her so much they rioted in her name, which means she had a very active public persona, perhaps related to charities and other good works and wasn't holed up in the palace all day.

she claimed dreamfyre, so that proves she was a brave and enterprising person, not afraid to take risks and take charge of the situation, if needed. milquetoast pushovers are not really successful dragon claimers - i feel like fandom glosses over this aspect a lot and the show doesn't help. can you imagine how it must feel like to fly in that time when the only method of air transportation is a dangerous fire-breathing creature? or to have a deep telepathic bond with one?

so, in this context, aegon isn't really given any particular reason to dislike her. she has a retort at hand whenever needed, is not afraid of her husband, is involved in political decisions before B&C and aegon even listens to her. is that a whole lot of build-up? ofc not. but it's really not the "helaegon h8 each other" gotcha zinger that's become popular in the fandom. although hotd does not help in this regard.

in the show she is kind of the opposite of what she was portrayed in FB - she's shy, withdrawn, keeps to the palace grounds, is mostly ignored and content that way. these traits are not "bad" or "good", but it does change the family dynamic and imo not much is done to compensate for it. i don't get the feeling they're telling a better story with this, just a more frustrating one by not providing some kind of counterbalance.

at the end of the day, this relationship has a lot of potential for interesting exploration, but any adaptation will boil down to what specific themes the writers want to develop. and, whenever readers interpret this ship, they're also going to be viewing it through whichever lends they find more compelling. it's always going to be like this with any underdeveloped aspect of any story.

so, if you make aegon hypersexual and helaena withdrawn, that's definitely a choice that's going to inform how these characters interact with each other, but that new dynamic is different from the text and we should acknowledge that, not pretend it was like this all along.

as for whether it's a good change to make or not, i'm not inclined to say so. transforming helaena into another long-suffering wife, when she is already going to lose her mind over the trauma she is subjected to, is boring. they already explored that with alicent and, at the end of the day, helaena is not your typical westerosi lady. her dragon is bigger than aegon's, but nobody bothers to take that into consideration. she should be whacking her brother over the head if he's being annoying, not cowering in fear of him.

[waleofgaterdeep]

Because I literally can't keep my mouth shut I gotta comment on the Gale Fatherhood Discourse TM lmao. /(it's not really discourse at all).

This gets long, sorry not sorry 💕💕💕

First I gotta say it loud and clear for all y'all (because I know how tumblr works: its all or nothing for canon discourse)- if you don't jive with parenthood headcanons that's totally valid. If you find it icky, I get you. If you enjoy the headcanons, more power to you to create them and enjoy them. I love to see different perspectives in fandom content. It means the original material is inspiring. What follows is my interpretation of the content that may or may not align with your interpretation. And that's not a reflection on you or I if our interpretations don't align.

Okay with that out of the way--

I have a p different interpretation of the "I'm not father material " line from Gale. In the context of the scene, as most know, Tav is asking Gale to open up their relationship (for Halsin).

(Thanks naughty gaming on YouTube)

Gale is notoriously awkward around the concept of sex (ala his reaction to the foursome in the brothel), fiercely monogamous to the point of obsessive devotion, and known to make jokes in dark situations. I interpret this reaction not as naivete or a moment of honesty, but an intentional attempt to gain some control over the conversation. Gale is trying to defuse the situation because he feels uncomfortable and bad about it!! We already know he has problems with feeling inferior in romantic relationships. Tav walking up and just asking to have sex with another guy, to Gale, would call into question his own position in the relationship. I mean, just look at the very next line:

"I thought what we had meant something to you."

He's angry and afraid that he's going to lose someone he loves. He's not genuinely commenting on his opinion of parenthood, he's just going through it.

This conversation also mirrors his reaction in the conversation in which Tav is romancing someone else and Gale asks them to choose.

So no, in my opinion, I don't think it's really the smoking gun of the canon that some people are making it out to be. It's a very Gale response tho, it all makes sense in the meta of his issues with romance and self-esteem.

I also have some thoughts on his opinion of students (which some ppl have cited towards the Gale is a Bad Father side).

At some point, I can't find a screenshot, Gale mentions he once had apprentices but they really annoyed him. (Which is very funny tbh.) Then, during the Trial of Love, choosing the correct answer of "apple" for the "What food is Gale?" question, gets you this line:

(thank you Ashe on YouTube)

So in his incredibly vulnerable Trial of Love, typified by his own honesty, he admits that he dreams of being a professor and having devoted students.

Does this reflect his opinions on parenthood? Not really imo.

I think this aligns way more with Gale's desire to have someone devote love and attention to him. To be respected and lauded. Gale desperately wants to be acknowledged for his genius, his arcane skills, and to be appreciated for sharing his knowledge (read: sharing his true self, the little nerdy wizard guy Gale Dekarios). It connects back to the concept of ✨Gale of Warerdeep ✨, the fabricated man he wanted to be to impress Mystra, and gain a high level of respect and awe. Not so much a commentary on how he feels about students as people or children. The students are just the vessel through which he can gain respect.

But the tl;dr of it all is that I don't think there is a canon moment that makes a statement clearly on Gale's interest in starting a family or his thoughts on children. I think it's a really interesting thought experiment to dissect and contemplate what kind of father Gale might be like based on the canon examples we have to work with. So whichever camp you fall into, so long as you're engaged and having fun with it, you're doing it right.

[lilsoftsuccubus]

Part 1 of 5

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. You and Todoroki haven’t eaten since lunch. Luckily there’s a convenience store close by the school. Only, it’s way past curfew and the school is filled with villain-catching security.

Pairing: Todoroki x General Reader (Reader also talks with Shinsou a bit)

Warning(s): Lots of mention of food, hunger. (Reader is fucking hungry okay can you blame them?)

Note: The relationship between reader and Todoroki can be interpreted as platonic or romantic, whichever. This is for my readers who also just want a bestie in crime.

Again constructive criticism is welcomed. I had this in my drafts FOREVER and decided to might as well finish it. Please enjoy!

“Y/N, you’re blocking the view.”

The familiar monotone voice behind you doesn't catch your attention. Your eyes were glued to the show playing on the laptop. The futon was way more comfortable than you expected.

1:34 AM, a school night.

You decided to pay Shoto a visit and somehow never left. Not that he minds. In past conversations, he declared that he prefers to be with you because he felt content.

It’s a normal sight to see either of you entering each other’s dorms or sitting together in the common room or kicking each other’s asses during training (Kirishima is convinced one day that you’ll become a kebab but you ain’t weak lol). You’ve somehow gotten close to him since the beginning of the year, yet it wasn’t easy.

“Y/N.” He raised his voice a little higher, which finally got you.

“Oh, sorry” you quickly replied and moved. “This series is interesting.”

“It’s a genre you typically don’t watch.”

“You don’t watch this sort of stuff either”

“Mhm” he hummed.

The sliding doors to the balcony were open, letting the both of you have a peek at the forestry night. An occasional breeze would come in and the crickets chirped quieter tonight. The laptop was the only source of light in the room and started to strain your eyes.

Your head turned to Shoto’s dresser and onto the ikebana flowers on it. You’ve always admired it every time you came. Little drabbles of the day came to mind when you looked at it.

“Sero challenged me earlier.” you broke the silence.

“After the whole chips incident he declared that if he wins, I would have to buy any snack he requests for a week. But if I win, then he would have to do the same. Don’t know about you but I think-”

You turn your head to see the unconscious boy on the futon.

“What the fuck, Shoto.”

The blanket was under him. You can’t blame him though, Aizawa wasn’t merciful with the training regiment this morning. Still, you weren’t sleepy, or rather, you refuse to sleep.

Suddenly, familiar feeling that greets you too often.

GUUUUUUURGLE

You’re hungry.

Now this wouldn’t be a problem, if a certain red-haired boy didn’t devour the whole kitchen during dinner time. Leaving no leftovers for the rest of the class. You found this out the hard way.

So you brainstorm for a bit.

Asking people for food at this hour is pointless, you could ask Shinsou but it’s most likely that he would just eat it in front of you. You could cook but you didn’t feel like it.

So that leaves…getting it yourself.

Fortunately for you, there’s a convenience store very close to the school.

Unfortunately for you, in order to go there you would have to sneak past the prison fortress of what you call a school. Full of security bots, cameras, a lurking Hounddog, and a gate.

And who are you to not enjoy some adventure?

You crawled up to Shoto's face. You’ve always found it endearing because it’s like he’s at complete ease, without worry, without stress, without anything.

And it’s fun to disturb it.

You cupped his face and shook it a bit.

“Hey. Sho. Hey, hey, hey, hey. Wake up. Wake uuuuuup. Shotoooooo.”

He opened his eyes slightly in annoyance.

“Y/N, we need to sleep. We have school…” he grumbled.

“Let’s sneak out.” you confidently suggested.

His body rose from the dead, as he rubbed his groggy eyes and gazed into yours.

“What?”

“I’m hungry! There’s nothing in the kitchen so let’s go to the convenience store close by.”

He took a moment to process what came out of your mouth and began to adjust his sleeping position.

“We’ll get in trouble. Midoriya and Bakugo made everyone on high alert. You can sleep the hunger away till breakfast.”

He extended his arms towards you. However, you were persistent.

“Come on, I haven’t eaten anything since lunch. There’s no way I can sleep it off. The store is really close too.” You whined.

“Even if we tried, it would be difficult to not get caught. They added more security thanks to those two. It’s pointless.” He mumbled.

“You didn’t eat anything either.”

“Because you distracted me,” he quickly replied.

You shivered a bit from the breeze making him stand up to go close the doors. You watched from the floor.

“I’m going regardless,”

He stopped and stared as you closed the laptop and got off the futon.

“You can wait here. If anything happens, I’ll text you. I’m gonna go to my dorm and get some things. Be right back.” You added.

You didn’t let him reply or think. Immediately leaving the room, you went straight for the elevator, pressed the down button then waited, leaving you time to think of a plan.

All that was left were the dings of the elevator.

Maybe it is stupid.

There’s a lot of security making it almost impossible to enter AND leave. If a villain can’t get past it, what makes you think that you can? Plus, Hound Dog has an incredible sense of smell. To add to the fire, those two idiots had to spar after curfew, so everyone’s on extra guard.

There has to be a way though. Your stomach is depending on it. Like the saying goes, if there’s a will, there’s a way.

Finally, the doors slide open.

The sounds of dripping water filled the silence. You decided that getting some water from the kitchen would be ideal.

You got everything you needed:

Your phone

The Hoodie you wear religiously

Money

Extra clothes

Backpack

Water bottle

You figured that you would have to mask your scent and blend in with your surroundings, which means rubbing dirt on yourself. So extra clothes are a must.

But your real problem is the gate. Using your student card will alert the other teachers, and going through without a card is impossible, so that leaves using an administration card, but there’s no way you could find one so easily. Even if you sneak through everything, the gate is almost a guaranteed bust.

Your eyes wandered to the small puddle in the sink. Your distorted reflection greets you.

DRIP

Food.

DRIP

You desperately need food.

DRIP

You need to get out.

DRIP

The convenience store has it all.

DRIP

Food.

DRIP

“Leaving so soon?”

The voice startled you, and before you was none other than Hitoshi Shinsou.

“Hey.” you quietly responded.

It’s not uncommon to see him come down during witch hours. The man never sleeps. He was in his casual pajamas, holding a dirty plate. From looking at the crumbs it could’ve been tonight’s dessert.

“Where are you going so late?” He asked.

Seems harmless to tell him, better to have at least one person looking out for you than a sleepy Shoto.

“I didn’t eat dinner so I’m going to the convenience store close by.”

His face looked as if he’d been running on 3 hours of sleep, nothing new of course. He lifted his eyebrow in response as if you said something stupid.

“You do know that UA is packed with security right?”

“Yes, I’m aware.” you grumbled.

“Then I assume you have a way past the entrance?” he added.

Nope. Your face said it all.

He tilted his head a bit and glanced at the sink.

“I’m good at stealth, so sneaking past the bots and Hound Dog won’t be a problem. The gate…ehh… I’ll find a way.” You quickly explain.

“And you’re going alone?”

“Well…I’m hoping that Shoto will come but I doubt it.”

He stared at you for a bit, doing his nervous habit of putting his hand behind his head, almost as if he’s pondering. Analyzing you.

The silence took over for the next few seconds.

“I know a way you can get out.” His gaze returned to you.

“But in one condition, well two actually. You get me some things there and Aizawa never finds out I gave this to you”

He reached for his pocket while he got closer to you.

Shifted to your height, and raised his hand directly to your face.

Finally seeing what he was talking about, you saw what lies between his fingers.

An administration card.

You stared in awe and pure confusion. Have the gods heard your wishes?

Wait…

“How do you have that?! DID YOU STEAL IT?!” you whispered.

“No. Sensei gave it to me to help with getting to school early and all that, but this stays between us. It has to be in my hands the moment you come back. So…don’t fuck this up for me.”

He gestured the card to you.

Hesitantly, you took it and inspected it.

Then you smirked.

“Know what you want then?”

You felt a bit guilty leaving Shoto abruptly. His door was unlocked, so you didn’t bother knocking. He probably fell asleep so why annoy him more?

Turning the knob slowly you hoped to not make a disturbance. You only got a few hours to complete this mission before everyone wakes up. Shinsou gave you a piece of paper of the things he wanted, you’re paying of course. Closing the door slowly, you turned around to be greeted with a twist.

The lamp is lit.

The futon, neatly made.

The balcony, still open.

And Shoto on his knees rummaging through his backpack, dressed in dark clothes.

He noticed you for a moment and went back to his bag.

“I’m not letting you go alone, it’s reckless.” He finally spoke.

You couldn’t help but let out the biggest smile, and a sense of relief.

“Are you sure? If we do this and get caught, sensei won’t be happy.” You warned.

He smiled.

“Not the first time one of us did something reckless, is it?”

Always a valuable sight to see him smile.

“Well then…don’t need to worry about the gate anymore.” You informed him.

“What do you mean?” He tilt his head.

You showed him the card, changing his expression.

“Where did you get that Y/N?” His tone now stern and concern.

“Shinsou.” You wave the card. “I ran into him in the kitchen and told him what we’re doing. He only gave me this so that he can get some stuff too.”

“And why does he have an administration card?” Shoto continued.

“That’s classified. But he didn’t steal it if that’s what you're worried about. I’m supposed to give it right back when we’re done.”

He nodded with a deadpan expression. Then averted his eyes to the ground.

You couldn’t help but be really happy that you’re not going alone.

“Hey Shoto?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks”

He stayed silent but gave a nod.

His face was stoic but he felt endeared.

It reminded you of something.

You were walking to school when you saw Shoto in the distance invested on his phone, so as an honorary person of Shoto’s you thought that it was your duty to tackle him to the ground with a hug.

It backfired instantly.

You startled and activated his quirk which led to you becoming a popsicle. It wasn’t a fun time.

But it was okay, he felt extremely guilty after that. (He took you to an expensive restaurant.) That’s when you learned to always ask before hugging him (or tackle him).

Now it’s a lighthearted memory you cherish.

ZIP

You snapped back from your thoughts when you heard his bag close.

“What made you change your mind?” You pondered.

“Oh. I got hungry.”

[tavina-writes]

Sorry may I ask you a question? Your meta is so interesting! In mdzs "debts" is a recurring theme and can you please explain it? I've read meta about how in Chinese culture jc's owed the wen siblings a debt and he should have saved them, but I've also read meta about how he owed a hugger debt to his own sect. I've read how jgy killed whr and nmj, people who he owned his educations (debts). I thought that mdzs was more about "Who is wrong? Who is right?" so that everyone is a bit wrong and a bit right but this kind of meta make me doubt myself and think that maybe in mdzs someone is really morally right (wwx and lwj) and everyone else is wrong. I am going a little crazy, that's why I asked you. Anyway, thanks in advance and have a good day!

Hi Nonny!

There's no need to apologize for sending an ask! I love asks!

Regarding your question about debts and what is "owed" in relationships, I think it's important to clarify that like, presumably if someone saved your life you'd also owe them a debt of gratitude, a life debt, or however and whichever other 'debt' terminology you'd care to use there. So this concept of "debt" because you owe someone for doing something for you is not in and of itself a 'unique to Chinese culture' problem, and I think looking at "oh this person "owes" this other person a thing" is not entirely a great? way to analyze how character relationships "should" or should not go. There are lots of ways we as people in a society owe other people in our society and the characters in this book, much like us, are trapped in a confluence of factors that pull them in different directions regarding what they should or should not do.

The book itself (at least from my own opinion) is meant to read as "everyone is both right and wrong at various points in this text because this is a book with complex characters and not a morality lesson" because lest we forget, WWX made a woman eat a chair leg at one point, which. We cannot say this was correct in really anything except the most reductive main character centric interpretation.

Regarding debts themselves that say, WangXian might owe their families in accordance to their society that sound just about the same as the examples mentioned above, we can say things like "since Wei Wuxian was raised by the Jiang, he should've been helping Jiang Cheng rebuilding Lotus Pier instead of sitting around drinking or running off with the Wen!" or "how dare Lan Wangji injure thirty-three of his family elders, doesn't he know he should've been filial to them and owed his education and position in society to the Lan Sect?" and "why is it that WangXian got to go fuck in a bush at the end of the story when other people who arguably did fewer crimes end up dead? Does this mean they owed less to society or made all the right choices compared to say, the other people who are still in fact super dead and don't get to fuck their beloved in a bush?"

Does this start to look like this concept of "debts" doesn't,,, actually explain anything about the moral complexities of the character's situations? That's because it isn't a good indicator of if character x made a moral choice or not.

But again, this whole concept of "debts" to explain why a character does a thing and why they're morally good or evil and reprehensible for not doing this other thing is entirely a thing fandom does in meta to make their fave look good or character they're an anti about look extremely bad under a case of "well ACKSHUALLY morality says they SHOULD HAVE done this!" None of these characters exist either as Perfectly Moral Beings or Perfectly Evil Immoral Beings inside a decision making vacuum.

It...also doesn't really matter if your fave is right or wrong either :D just for context. They're all fictional blorbos upon a page and or screen. No real person was harmed in over the course of the story. No woman deep throated a chair leg, no child was tossed down the stairs, no groups of people were massacred, no brothers were abandoned, no one was poisoned with rage disease until they died, nobody committed incest... etc etc and honestly debating about if fictional characters were right or wrong fascinates me a lot less than "what does the story tell us about what drove them and made them tick?" and "what adaptational and translational choices did other people before me make about this story and do I agree with them on their adaptational choices."

:( sorry this came out so messy anon! I just don't think the "did this character repay their debts -> is this character a good person -> a morally good character therefore doesn't owe anyone anything anymore and if they do owe someone something that doesn't count/no they don't." pipeline is particularly useful from an analyzing the story standpoint.