#no canon sexuality. you realize how dumb that sounds

[bitchthefuck1]

Since I have seen a few people try and frame Tolya being aroace as just a headcanon, or point out the (valid) fact that being aroace doesn't completely negate that someone can be in a relationship as a reason why having him be interested in Inej in the show isn't erasure, I feel like it's important to point out that he very specifically states in the text of one of the books that he has no interest in forming a romantic relationship or attachment with anyone and never has:

So yes. Shipping him with Inej, or anyone else, is erasing his canon sexuality. That's it.

[everwitch-magiks]

a rich and complex tapestry

When Alex first hooks up with Henry, he's expecting a fun one-night-stand and maybe the occasional booty call. He does not expect to get so completely pulled into Henry’s orbit that it forces him to reevaluate everything he thought he knew about his sexuality. And he's not sure if it makes it better, or way worse, that Henry is actually a professional at all this stuff — what are the odds that Alex would hook up with the one guy on campus who hosts his own radio show about sex? 'Sleeping With Henry' is about to gain one devoted listener.

This was such a satisfying fic to write! It was genuinely one of those that felt like it wrote itself - and I don't know about y'all, but that's not how it usually works for me. Right from the start, I felt so certain of what I wanted this to be: I wanted to write one that really dug deep into Alex's bi realization. That's a theme that features in a lot of RWRB fics, including my own, and of course it's also a vital part of the RWRB canon. With this fic, I wanted to explore that deeply, to really take my time with it and write it in a way that felt vulnerable and heartfelt and very, very real.

I'm bi. And whenever I write about Alex being bi, I am writing a little bit about me being bi - never completely about me, but y'know. It's one of the things that really drew me to Alex's character in the first place, the way his bisexual realization was handled in the book. That realization is something I almost always include in an AU as well - but oftentimes in a oneshot, the timeline for any type of emotional character development can become quite condensed. And while I immensely enjoy both reading and writing oneshots wherein Alex's bi realization takes place over the course of a few hours - in fact, that can be so fun! - in this oneshot, I wanted to let it take quite a bit of time.

Also? I very desperately wanted to write Henry as an irresistibly confident sex guru on late-night radio. What's not to like about that?

In the excerpt below the cut, Alex and Henry have just had sex and Alex is about to tell Henry that actually, he still sort of thinks he's straight. Mostly.

Henry slumps down against him, but he doesn’t immediately pull himself off. It gives Alex a few moments to assess the feeling of his dick in Henry’s ass in a more technical sense, without the burning urgency of an impending orgasm. And it’s… well. It’s nice? He shifts his hips a little, biting his lip when that makes Henry groan slightly.

Suddenly, he’s infinitely curious about the opposite side of the experience.

Henry nips at Alex’s throat, possibly in retaliation to his wiggling. “You alright?”

“I’m fantastic,” Alex drawls. Except then Henry starts to pull off, and Alex instantly palms at his shoulders. “Hey, could you… stick around? I’m having a moment.”

“Is that so?” Henry wonders. He sounds mildly confused, which is way better than put-out. Alex will take it. “If you’re suggesting another round, I’m going to need a bit longer.”

“I mean, we could do that,” Alex says quickly. It’s a great fucking idea. “I was just kinda taking it all in.”

He feels Henry go still against him. “What do you mean?” Henry asks softly.

“Um.” Fuck. It’s possible Alex should’ve mentioned this earlier. “I’m, y’know, mostly straight? Like, about ninety-six percent or so. Historically it’s been a hundred, but recent data suggests otherwise.”

Henry makes a noise Alex can’t quite decipher; it’s both startled and a bit weak, but when he speaks there’s distinct amusement in his voice. “Christ, Alex. I'm not sure you're aware you're saying that with your cock still in my arse.”

“Fuck right off.” Alex couldn’t fight his dumb grin if he tried. This is exactly why he and someone like Henry, regardless of gender, could never work out for real; Henry is way too good at cutting through Alex’s bullshit. Alex wouldn’t stand a fucking chance.

Read 'a rich and complex tapestry' on AO3!

[sapphire-weapon]

Sorry if the question is dumb but do you think Leon and Claire could ever work as a couple? Or like, what's your take on their relationship as a whole? Considering how little i think Capcom bothered to 'explore'?

So. I'm going to try to not sound insane.

But I have a hot take.

Stay with me.

Claire should be the person in canon that's considered Leon's "fated connection." Not Ada.

Leon's fated journey into Raccoon City starts with Claire, and it ends with Claire. No matter how off the rails shit got during RE2, Leon and Claire still found their way back to each other.

Leon's life changed as a result of his relationship with Claire by way of Sherry -- not because of his relationship with Ada.

It makes sense for two combatants to meet periodically on the battlefield. But Claire chose a non-violent life and still somehow gets thrown in Leon's path over and over again.

That all having been said...

I, personally, don't think Leon and Claire would work in a long-term, steady relationship. Leon keeps secrets, and Claire doesn't have the patience to put up with it.

They also aren't going the same direction in life; Claire has ambitions, but Leon doesn't. Claire has hope. Leon doesn't. And at no point does Claire ever inspire him to have hope.

This doesn't necessarily mean that there have never been feelings between them or that they never will have them. It's clear that they care about each other, and we've seen both OG and Remake versions of them have some sort of sexual tension between them. But feeling the feelings isn't enough for a relationship to actually work.

I think Leon and Claire will always occupy a very special, very exclusive spot in each other's hearts. Because they've been in this together since the very beginning. Claire is technically the only member of the cast who knew Leon before he was officially a cop. That means something.

But I personally see them as the type to maybe at some point try to be together and then realize that they just work way better as friends.

[shingekinomyfeelings]

what you really are // 1st installment

Reiner finds that his first sexual encounter with a girl he truly cares for brings up a lot of memories and conflicted emotions. Reiner’s POV; honestly a casserole of angst, fluff, romantic drama, and Reiner being a big dumb idiot. I won't call it comedy, but it made me laugh.

As always, thoughts and comments mean so, so much to me. I really appreciate those of you who've followed me to read my stuff. It's so strange and funny to me that writing about this blonde mess of a man is what brought me back to writing for fun.

warnings: none yet; explicit sex in later installments, but nothing fetishy or triggery. Reiner is angsty, but is that really a warning?

Characters are cadets, but aged up to 19, don't come at me.

notes: uh, so, this one’s a little different from the usual.

It’s from Reiner’s point of view, which has been really fun to do. I’m really not sure how to tag it, though, because the girl in question is unnamed and descriptions are vague enough that she functions as a Reader or y/n, but since it’s from Reiner’s perspective, she’s never referred to as ‘you,’ so idfk if I should call it an x reader fic or an x oc.

It’s also pretty self-ship coded, but I’m starting to realize that most x reader fics are, when they’re written with real feeling and immersion, because a truly blank, universal ‘reader’ is lifeless, and we’re all writing about canon characters through our own lens of interpretation, so the entire fabric of fanfiction is deeply personal, and frankly I doubt anyone is even still reading this fuck it I wish I had apple juice

"Have you, um... have you ever slept with a girl before?"

The question, posed with shy curiosity, makes Reiner's brain skip a few beats along with his heart. He swallows, eyes wide for a moment, the faintest hint of pink creeping across his cheeks, and then he coughs quietly to regain his composure.

"Uhh... uh, a... few, yeah..." He rubs awkwardy at the back of his neck, not sure why he sounds apologetic. She doesn't look upset; she's simply gazing up at him with a slight tilt of her head, waiting for him to say more.

"It was just a few hookups with some girls from town,” he explains, a bit sheepishly. “Not even other cadets, just... strangers. Just some fun now and then, until we got bored of each other and moved on, which never took long. Pretty sure one didn't even tell me her real name."

His heart gives a tiny pang at the soft way she laughs at that, and he pauses for an awkward few seconds before he asks her, "Have you? Slept with... anyone?"

"Of course not," she answers, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I told you, you were my first kiss, remember?"

Oh. Right.

He nods, a little flustered. It’s not that he's forgotten that first kiss – it happened a little over two months ago, and while they've shared many more since then, it’s still the one that keeps him shamefully preoccupied at night when he should be sleeping – but for some reason, this conversation has him fumbling with both his thoughts and his words.

Of course he wants to; God, he wants to. He’s tried his best to hide how badly, not wanting to rush her. He’s never taken his flirting and teasing far enough to make it sound like he’s impatient. He’s even readjusted himself awkwardly many times when she jumps on him playfully, or when he’s pressed against her with his arms around her waist, and his body starts to get just a little carried away.

But, as their private moments together have become more heated, the subject has come up a few times, and she’s expressed interest, and now it’s even harder to keep all of his thoughts at bay. He can’t escape them even in his sleep, recently, though he would never in his life tell her the lurid ways he’s dreamed about her. Underneath all that constantly simmering lust that threatens to boil over a couple of times each day, though, Reiner has noticed other, unexpected feelings beginning to surface as well. Guilt. Sorrow. Hesitation. And...

He looks at her for a moment, the way her hair falls around her face and her shoulders, and the way her eyes are so kind and intent on him.

"Does it... uhh, does it make you nervous, knowing I've done that?" he asks, his eyes trained on hers.

She stares back up at him and asks blithely, "Does it make you nervous knowing I haven't?"

"Tsshh..." He makes a noise like she's just asked something ridiculous, and tries to roll his eyes a little for good measure, but he’s sure she sees through it, because she just smiles just a little more.

His hand reaches out to hers, where it rests on the ground, to lace their fingers together. She’s always seeing right through him; it’s annoying, but charming - and a liability, but so endearing...

She doesn’t see everything, though. If she did, she wouldn’t be here right now, sitting beside me, relaxed, letting me hold her hand.

He reminds himself of that at least once a day.

She would never let someone like me touch her. Why would she?

She sighs softly and bumps her head against his shoulder. “I don’t want it to make you nervous,” she tells him. “If we uh... end up doing that, I trust you, you know...”

You’re too sweet, he wants to tell her. I don’t deserve how sweet you are. I don’t deserve how much you trust me. One day you and everyone else are gonna find that out...

She must see the slight tension that crosses his features, because she plafully blows a puff of air into his ear, and he scoffs in feigned annoyance and puts an arm around her, releasing her hand to drape his on top of her head, ruffling her hair so that it falls across her face. Pulling her closer, he buries his face against her neck and kisses her as she half-assedly tries to squirm away.

He hates himself for feeling happy.

I’m the worst devil on this whole island.

[meow--or--never]

Witchlight characters described by someone who is a second-hand member of the fandom (idk the difference between canon and partner's headcanon)

@scary-spaghetti-enjoyer

Torbeck:

- Straight jacket

- Sad

- Wet skrunkly meow meow.... thing(?)

- Idk what they are

- Owlbear? Homebrew? Bugbear? Kobold with a hair condition?

- Experimented on in past

- Little spoon (rip Frost's eyes)

- Based on looks alone, they're either very smart or very insane

- I think they look like a swell fellow :)

- "[Torbeck] look like if you do so much as breathe a single molecule on them theyll disintegrate into a small puddle of tears"

- "they look like they make the laminated sheet wobble sound unprompted and constantly"

- I originally was using he/him for them, but then I copy/pasted the tumblr meme and thought they/them fits them, so personal hc time

- Idk I just like characters that have gone through so much hurt that they no longer feel like they have a gender or romantic/sexual orientation (projection)

- I know nothing about what experiments happened to them, but either way the scientists probably weren't nice and probably referred to them as an object or something

- Maybe it/its, but only if you're close and they trust you

- I JUST REALIZED BUT THEY KINDA LOOK LIKE LUDO'S (LABYRINTH) WEAKER LITTLE SIBLING

Morning Frost:

- Tiger (of the gay variety)

- Dating Torbeck (gay)

- Wore suit to autistic test (gay)

- A (gay) sorcerer (I thought he was a monk??? Or at most a fighter?? Apparently he's not though, the (noncanon(?)) temple thing he went to was not for monk)

- "This is my boyfriend Torbeck, and this is Torbeck's boyfriend Gideon."

- Chronic pain (especially in his knees)

- This is a personal hc but I feel like he's either GNC or just dresses feminine every-so-often :3

- Breaks the laws of big cats and purrs

- I looked it up and tigers can communicate with their ears, so I'm imagining he wiggles them lots when happy

- I think Brutus told me this, but I also saw that tiger saliva is antiseptic, so he can literally kiss all better

Gideon:

- Married to Kremmy (Idk if this is canon or not)

- Hot (Fire genasi)

- Hot (I've seen fanart)

- Probably a fighter or barbarian

- I think he looks like Hellboy kinda

- He also looks like if my human AU version of Remus Sanders (Sanders Sides) was a demon

- So I can't help but think "Dumb stupid himbo🥰" whenever I see him

- Everyone else has an angsty thing, so this is from my own thoughts, but he probably has body/muscle dysmorphia

Kremmy:

- Has cane

- Rich looking

- Crocodile (or alligator, idk)

- Lets Frost use cane when his knees hurt extra

- I have no clue why, but I think he's an artificer or something, idk

- Maybe a rouge, because his fanart gives con-man vibes

- I want to look it up, but I must stay strong (so my partner can tell me instead:3)

- Angsty thing: he has no lips how he gonna kiss kiss :(

Gricko:

- When in doubt (Grico or Griko) use both (Gricko)

- "A single [dad] who works two jobs, who loves [his] kids and never stops"

- "The reason I've always felt so outcast in my friendgroup is bc apparently they're all in a polyamorous relationship and i didn't know"

- Commitment issues (canon)

- Idk anything else

- Whenever I imagine him, I just see Nott the Brave from Critical Role (has never watched her campaign)

[generalfoolish]

Trigger Finger

Summary: You're attacked at home, while Adrian is out, and it's the first time you've gotten blood on your own hands.

Pairing: Vigilante (Adrian Chase) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: *All of my works are M for mature so 18+ please; language, language, language, canon typical violence, sexual themes, canon-typical violence, gore descriptions, blood mentions, gun violence, I don't know how guns work, shock, murder, home invasions.

Word Count: 2k

Request: Can I please request an Adrian Chase x fem!innocent!civilian!reader where she’s Adrian’s girlfriend and they’ve been living together for years (in Adrian’s apartment). Maybe someone that has a grudge against Vigilante somehow finds his apartment, but only Y/n is home (Adrian is out on a mission with the team), so Y/n has to try to defend herself without him there (I imagine he has probably tried to teach her how to defend herself, both with a weapon and just in general, but she still isn’t used to violence like this). She ends up pulling the trigger on the person trying to hurt her, and that’s when Adrian gets home (he probably got notice that she was in trouble). Y/n is takes it really hard as she is not a vigilante, assassin, nor is she an agent, she’s never even so much as hurt a fly before + Adrian calming her down from a panic attack?🥺

A/N: This isn't a one for one from the request, but I hope you enjoy it anyway <3

Master List | Tag List Form | Adrian Chase Master List

You hummed along to your playlist, the kitchen speaker playing a touch too loud. You were alone in the apartment tonight, again, and the up-beat tunes thumping throughout the room helped ease the stifling quietness of the space. You didn’t really mind being alone, found solace in the time, plus it helped you get work done. But after living with Adrian for a few years, the quiet was too loud. He was always humming, singing, laughing, talking. His noises were endless, and you were so accustomed to them that you found the silence strange.

The song ended as you finished cutting the broccoli, and in the few seconds between the songs you heard the tinkle of breaking glass. You gripped the knife more harshly, and focused on your breathing. It sounded like it had come from the bedroom, which was your first bug-out place. 

When you’d moved in with Adrian, he’d told you the truth of who he was. It had been a lot to process, and sometimes you still struggled to connect your goofy boyfriend to the masked vigilante that was wanted for murder. Despite your insistence that you wanted to be left out of the “Vij” stuff, as you loosely referred to it, Adrian had countered that you had to learn self-defense basics. When you had agreed, it had snowballed into defensive and evasive moves, bug-out spots in the apartment, how to use a gun, how to use a knife, where all of the weapons were hidden in the apartment, and most recently, the secret alert message letting Adrian know something was up. 

You grabbed your phone, shooting him the scooter emoji, before shoving it back into your pocket and fumbling beneath the sink for the pistol that was hidden there. As soon as you felt the cold metal, you yanked hard, scraping your arm against the wooden cabinet edge, and fled quickly to the pantry. It was small and cramped, a shelf was digging into your spine, and if you moved at all bags would rustle. You tried to stay still, wishing you hadn’t been playing the music so loud, so that you could track the intruder’s movements through the apartment. 

Your stomach growled in the darkness, and you stifled a groan. You were starving, and had waited until you were almost too hungry before starting dinner. It was dumb, of course, to be worried about that now, when there was a good possibility you would die. You sucked in a sharp breath, the realization washing over you harshly: you could die. 

Lana Del Rey’s rasp filled the kitchen, permeating even the pantry with soft promises of freedom, and you felt dampness on your cheeks. You didn’t dare move to wipe the tears, didn’t even bother to stifle their flow. 

The loose tacks in front of the kitchen, the attached carpet to the living room, pulled loose from the cat, squeaked tellingly. Your eyes slipped close, and you pulled the safety off the pistol. Thankful, for the first time, that Adrian had made you do blind-folded practices. 

“Turn that shit off.” A gruff voice called from deeper in the apartment, and a voice closer to you huffed in agreement. You heard a cord being ripped from the wall, the music suddenly cutting off, the clattering of the speaker to the counter. Your hand trembled, shaking the gun. You tightened your hold, and prayed they’d just leave.

“I don’t even see him.”

“He ain’t here.”

“You said he lived here.”

“He does.”

“But he ain’t here.”

“Guess we’ll wait?”

“Someone is here.” 

“We’ll find her.” 

You attach no meaning to the voices, they’re disembodied, gruff and talking about you. They’re talking about you, finding you, and they’re talking about Adrian. Your best guess is they want to hurt him, because he’s Vij. Your worst guess is that they’re old friends of his, here to surprise him. 

You hold your breath as one of the men walks closer to the pantry. The handle of the door pulls tight, wiggling in the frame, and you pull back the hammer of the gun. The click is masked by the soft pop of the door opening, but your gun shot is loud. It rings out, echoing in the small pantry, blasting your ear drums, announcing your presence in the kitchen. 

The man before you, clad in black, face covered, falls to the ground. You try not to see the blood pouring from his chest, try not to hear the wheezing, rasping, drowning noises he’s making. In a different room, you hear cursing, running. 

You hold the gun up, and aim about chest high. When you see black you just pull the trigger. You don’t wait to see the mask, you don’t wait to hear him out, and you don’t look at him as he crumples to the ground. You step carefully around the two men, avoiding the dark red pools surrounding them, covering the white tile of your kitchen, and you run to the bathroom. You lock the door, and slip into the tub. You grip the pistol hard enough that the circulation begins to cut off in your fingers, and you’re shaking hard enough that you don’t think you’d be able to aim at anything. 

It feels like hours, sitting in the tub, bawling your eyes out, freezing cold and starving like you wouldn’t believe. You’re trembling, exhausted, when there’s a tentative knock at the door. You can’t lift the gun, the fight drained from you completely.

“Jelly?” Adrian’s voice calls from the other side of the door, muffled from his mask you assume. “I got your text, are you okay?” His voice is strained, tense. You’re guessing he’s seen the kitchen, and the gun clatters to the floor. You’re lucky it didn’t go off, but you can’t think about it. You jump up from the tub, hitting your knee and elbow on the way up, and run to the door, unlocking and throwing it open in one movement. 

You’ve launched yourself into his arms before you can make sure he’s okay, before he can make sure you’re okay. His arms curl around you, too tightly, a knife handle is digging into your ribs, and the fabric of his suit is itchy, but for one moment none of that matters.

“You’re okay?” Adrian asks again, pulling his mask from his face, his hair matted down, sweaty. You nod into his shoulder, not wanting to speak, not sure if you could.

“You’re in shock.” Adrian explained, smoothing his hands down your bare arms. “That’s why you’re freezing. Let me get you something.” He offered, his voice as soothing as any balm. He tries to untangle himself, but the loss of contact brings tears to your eyes. It’s unstoppable, the stream pouring down your face. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Jellybean, I’m right here. Come with me.” He tried again, lifting an arm around your shoulders, leading you to the bedroom. He stops in the doorway, and angles his body in front of you. You know they came in this window, and you assume there’s glass everywhere, but you’re thankful Adrian is trying to shield you from the worst of it.

“Let’s see, a big hoodie, and comfy sweats. Need a stuffie?” He asked, pushing his glasses onto his nose as he moved quickly around the room. It was a mess, overturned shelves, and broken things. You nod silently. He shoots a strained smile at you, before packing a few into a bag.

“Where are we going?” You managed to ask, the first words you’d said in hours, and the effort hurt your throat.

“Hotel. Nicest one in town. We’ll come back in a few days. Can you find Katy Purry? We’ll take her too.” You nod, hating yourself for not having thought about your cat during the invasion. You stumble out to the living room, and find her beneath the couch. You grab her quickly, and head back to Adrian, your heart thumping uneasily.

He looked up as you entered the room, and rushed to you. 

“Oh Jelly, I’m so sorry. Come here.” He cooed as he smashed you to him again. He’s just in his undershirt now, the wicking material slick against your skin, but you pull him in tighter. You aren’t sure how long he held you, but you knew when you pulled away that it wasn’t long enough.

“Come on, let’s grab something to eat, and then we can stay anywhere you like.” He ushered you out, hitting the light as he went. He got you into his car, the Sebring a comfort, and loaded the trunk up while you got cozy in the front. Katy Purry normally had a carrier, but you hadn’t thought of grabbing it. Hoping Adrian had remembered. 

“I placed an order for all of the sushi, so I’ll just run in real quick to grab it. Then straight to the hotel. There’s that new Holiday Inn? Or the Hilton? Those are nice, right? Did you know that I’ve actually only stayed in shitty motels, so anything is a step up. Like, you’d think that the government would splurge on a nicer place for us, since we stopped an alien invasion. Anyway, I’m rolling the red carpet out for you, girl. You’re gonna be treated like a queen! Is room service a thing? I have no idea.” His rambling was pulling you in, dragging you back to the ground. His excited monologue lulled you to sleep, your eyes drooping closed, your head leaned back onto the seat. 

You awake only when Adrian is shaking your shoulder. You’re alone in the dark car, pulled into a spot near the door. Your lap is cool, no longer being inhabited, and while you can smell tempura in the air there’s no sign of sushi.

“Where-” You began to ask, but Adrian shushed you. Opting to help you out of the seat, and closing the door for you. 

“You did so, so good, Jelly. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much, and I’m so, so sorry this happened. I’ll be more careful. I’ll never come home as Vij again.” He declared, helping you through the parking lot, your side tucked carefully against his. “I don’t know what I’d do if they had hurt you. I…” He trailed off as you entered the lobby, seemingly lost in thought as he tapped the elevator button.

“You don’t have to say anything else, Adrian.” You told him, resting against his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.” He scoffed in response, rubbing a hand down his face.

“We’re moving, first thing. Your name on the lease, and I’m gonna cool it on the Vij stuff for a while.”

“You can’t, Adrian.”

“Yeah, I can.”

“Vigilante is important.”

“Not more important than you, Jellybean. I mean it. No more missions, no more patrols. At least for a while.”

“Not long, Adrian. I won’t let you just stop what you love.”

“It isn’t forever. Let’s just focus on you, right? You’re the one who had…Well, anyway, I’ve got a cuddly cat and more sushi than ten people could eat.” He told you, pivoting away from the harder conversation. It warmed your frozen limbs, how he’d rushed right to you, doted on you. You wished he wouldn’t shoulder the guilt, but knew there was no talking to him right now. Not that you wanted to. What you wanted was to demolish your food, curl up in a bed that wasn’t yours, and watch shitty Food Network shows until you passed out from exhaustion. The best part, of course, was Adrian right by your side, his dimples guiding you back to sanity. He kissed your forehead before he unlocked the room. He held the door open wide, and you walked in, somehow more in love with him than you were even moments ago.

tagged: @michi-reads @strawberriesandknives @uncle-eggy @fictionlandslanddreams @uwiuwi @lostinwinderland314 @kidd3ath @maplefire18 @zekegorilla @hypnoash @greenxtea0

@myguiltypleasures21 @goblynnrockz @racetrackheart @ticharluv

[the-owl-house-takes]

Little vent // I swear every single Belos fan I’ve met has been racist towards me and idk what to think. I used to be in a discord server all about the wittebanes but people in there were… something. I always like talking about how Belos being a villain who thrives on bigotry is so interesting to me but I was met with responses such as

“Belos is not racist ur just dumb”

“Oh so you think Belos owns slaves?”

“Belos would never do that!”

“Sounds like ur racist towards white ppl idk”

And other hurtful things, they called me slurs too along with [other slurs meant for other races] and it was not a good time to say the least. Somebody else who loves the trans hunter headcanon talked about Belos being misogynistic and they were told to “kys” another person who headcanoned belos as trans told them that they were being transphobic [they were also trans] and that “Belos isn’t that bad of a guy” … :/ they were talking about canon Belos too. The person who brought up trans hunter in the first place got clowned on for no reason by everybody else - they really really hate hunter.

I assumed it was because of toxic Hunter stans because they’re terrifying or the way he was handled in the show? But no they hate hunter because apparently “he should’ve died over belos” these people despite claiming belos wasn’t that bad were obsessed with writing/drawing belos abusing hunter in the most horrific ways possible… You guys realize child abuse isn’t… cool right…?

Outside of this server I had been told rlly icky things - I just want to talk about Belos without becoming an apologist or sexualizing him :( Another Belos fan whom I got along with for a little bit began talking about how Belos was right? I thought it was a joke at first but they were being serious. Before I blocked him I asked him what he thought of other groups of oppressed people out of curiosity - got met with slurs as expected..

Another Belos fan, they were a minor and they were just - really really focused on how sexual they could make Belos. How badly they wanted to rail Belos and why they wanted “somebody like him irl so badly they’d die” I’m a minor too and I tried to explain to this other kid that maybe you shouldn’t do that?? They just told me I was weak lol

Idk what else to say, I’m sure there’s some normal Belos fans out but I haven’t been able to find them :( I’ve been in at least 5 wittebane servers and had similar negative interactions like the ones listed above… I only used one server as an example because the other 4 get pretty gross too… I just needed to get this off my chest

-

[dxppercxdxver]

hey juno! 🌙! anyways, I have no clue what jonnymike deathtrap au is but it sounds decently cool!

also, one if you have from any wips with disability rep please!

also this is unrelated but I heard roses was about gay trauma and deep water, and jaws? what inspired that?

P.S. I’ve asked about hhsa for the past two asks, but, that juno character in it and their mysterious nature or disappearance is fascinating so if you have anything on that that would be cool

also P.S. stop sign junction is cool but already was asked so if there’s anything else about it to say and you want feel free to elaborate on it too

P.P.S i just realized spytown means saf and hadestown that’s so cool I’m not necessarily asking about that (unless you want) I just wanted to say this

hello again moonon!!!! once again you are being so kind to me with all of this, so let me see if i can indulge you

once again, putting this all under a cut because. Long

jonnymike deathtrap au is. a very self indulgent project i need to finish, but to try to summarize a deeply and stupidly complicated premise as best as i can, it's a crossover of three different pieces of media? through dumb circumstances me and @firstmatedville wrote a self indulgent crossover where mike nelson (of mystery science theater 3000) and jonny d'ville (of hit band the mechanisms) fell in love and had an epic romance. and then i decided to cross that over with my favorite play, deathtrap, which is a gay murder mystery about a playwright and his ingenue murdering his wife. it is So Much Fun and ransom's been yelling at me to finish and i am so sorry i haven't yet

MICHAEL. (Gestures to the body, almost proud.) Right on the rug. You can’t fault me for neatness.

JOEL. Mickey… What have you done.

MICHAEL. Exactly what I intended, my love.

JOEL. Don’t call me that.

MICHAEL. Why ever not, dear?

JOEL. You— Who are you?

MICHAEL. I’m the same person I’ve always been.

JOEL. No. No. You are a stranger to me, Mickey. (MICHAEL steps away from the body to come comfort her husband, but JOEL scrambles backwards with an aborted sob.) Get away from me.

MICHAEL. (Holds up hands in surrender.) As you wish. (Moves back to JONATHAN’S body, rotating his corpse so it’s parallel with the long side of the rug. Begins to roll the carpet over him, but pauses.) Your heart seems to have taken it.

JOEL. But for how long? When the police start asking questions, when his family comes knocking, what happens then?

MICHAEL. No one will know. (Keeps rolling up the body into a little corpse carpet taco.) Listen, once I get the ball rolling with this new script, we’re gonna take a long vacation, far from anywhere, a place where you can stay and rest, and where I can take care of you. A little cabin in the mountains, maybe.

JOEL. What, so you can kill me too?

MICHAEL. Why ever would I do such a thing? I did this—all of this—for you.

next up, disability rep!! i'm not sure i have any wips with that rn beyond what background disability i include in all my characters, but i did just publish a where or when fic that talks about a character's (non-canonical unfortunately) disability! linked here

third, the inspiration behind roses!! i am a certified autistic gayboy that hyperfixated on jaws upon watching it in october of 2020 and decided that the main characters martin brody and matt hooper had Something kinda homoerotic going on and also Latched Onto Hooper like a barnacle. so i wanted to do an examination of like. queer sexuality and disability and mental health in the 1970s. because both of these are characters with troubled pasts who are Going To End Up Mega Traumatized. and i wanted to examine what their lives might be like after the events of the movie!! i can go more in depth if you want later, but that's the basic gist :)

fourthly, juno in herronimus!! and his mysterious habit of disappearing!! i don't really have a passage that exemplifies this, so i'll just tell you about him!! idk how much nat's told you about the story, but juno's whole deal is that he's unstuck in time! in the flashback, he disappears because he's tried to make a deal with the main antagonist and instead gets swallowed by it and transformed into a bird, and he remains in that form for about twenty or thirty years until someone breaks him free and he becomes a Teenager again. so he's got a lot of memory issues and tends to wander off and not quite be grounded all the time bc he's like. All Knocked Out Of Time. and i care him Very Deeply

fifth!! fifhtly!! i think there's one character in stopsign junction i haven't talked about yet, which is an as yet unnamed rapscallion who has a bit of An Agenda. they're not evil, per se? but they're very possessive and distrusting and kind of want theo for themself, and when he doesn't work with them when they want they get Real Weird about it. big goth androgyny vibes, but this character is also subject to change bc i'm not Super set on them

aaaaaand finally, spytown!! spytown is mostly a published series/au that i've been working on with my beloved spytuals (@/szollibisz, @/considerablecolors, @/owen-not-carvour, @/teethworm, etc.) that's a crossover of spies are forever with hadestown. i left off in the middle of a fic where curt!orpheus and owen!eurydice meet, and it so so gentle (music!! love!! domesticity!!) but i just lost steam on it? series is available to be read on my ao3 here

once again, thank you so so much for letting me gush about all these stories!! blorbos from my brain <3

[the-whumpening]

The Backstory Arc, Part 6 (not canon, but fun!)

Prev | Masterpost | Next

nobody said "no" to the fic about Ash getting pegged sooo...

[Three main context notes: 1) Ash sounds immature and silly in this one bc he’s just kind of a goofy guy and he’s still a little dumb at this point in the story (still an adult capable of consent, just goofy). 2) He and Uma met when he accidentally broke her sculpture and had to help her in her studio to repay it. And 3) this is sort of a very slightly alternate timeline where the two of them had more time together and, by extension, had more opportunities for sexual exploration. This is an old fic so it’s written a little differently than I’d write it now, but I still think it’s fun.]

Content: explicit sex scene, pegging, anthro-ish character, f/m pairing, slightly feral

Long post (around 3.2k words!)

————————————————————————————

Steam rises from the large stone basin as the last of the hot water splashes in. Uma slides in the tub and pats the water to invite Ash. He grins broadly as he plods in, his ears and tail twitching with excitement and his body splattered with clay.

“You know, I found out that most cats don’t like water? Which is weird, since tigers love it!” Ash says as he sinks into the bath. Uma splashes him playfully and scoots closer.

“Well, I’m glad you like it, cause you really need a bath.” She cups a handful of water in her hand and dumps it on his head. “Next time, put down the clay slurry before you sneeze, dummy.”

Ash shakes the water off his head. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make a mess.” He turns to show the splotch of dried clay right between his shoulder blades. “Could you help me get this clay off my back?”

“How the hell did you get clay there?!” Uma chuckles as she wets a cloth and starts scrubbing. Goosebumps pop up all down his back, and his tail twitches. Uma swears she can hear him purring. “Oh, does it feel that good, Kitty?” She giggles and leans in to nibble on his ear. He gives a quiet murmur of enjoyment before snapping out of his daze.

“U-uma!” he laughs. “I really do need to clean up. We can play after the bath!” He tries to gently push her towards the other side of the tub, but Uma stubbornly scoots closer, trapping him in the corner.

“We can do both,” she says with a cocked eyebrow and a wry smile. Taking the cloth she used before, Uma carefully wipes the clay off Ash's face. She traces over his lips to the curve of his strong jaw, revealing his stripes from beneath the mud. “There. That's a start, at least. Now I can see your pretty face, Kitty.” At her comment, his cheeks flush and he chuckles breathily.

“Come on, let me just finish washing up,” he says, with a bit less conviction than before.

“No way! After the mess you made, I don't think I can trust you to clean yourself up. Stay still, Kitty—be good.” She gives him a quick kiss on his cheek before backing up to start scrubbing the rest of his body. Ash drops his protests as Uma’s hands drag across his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Her hands move further under the water, and he can feel the rough cloth against his thighs.

Ash tries hard to stay still, but this endeavor becomes increasingly difficult as Uma meticulously traces every inch between his legs.

“I know I didn't get any clay there,” he laughs breathlessly.

“Silly cat, you can always use a good cleaning.” A fiendish glint shines in her eyes, and Ash realizes he might be in trouble. “Actually, I have an idea. Flip over, Kitty. On your hands and knees.”

Although Ash is unsure and suspects her “idea” may end up humiliating him, he complies.

“Okay. Now what?”

Uma rubs her palm up and down his back a few times before speaking. “Relax. I want to try something. This might feel weird, but you know what to say if you want me to stop.”

Ash takes a breath, trying to relax his muscles despite his embarrassment. Even so, his tail instinctively covers him as it always does. It’ll be fine, there’s no need to worry, he reassures himself.

“I trust you,” he says as he sinks into the position, letting his bottom rise up further. Uma roughly grabs a handful of his cheek, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Good Kitty, just like that. Now let's get that tail out of the way . . . ” She pushes his tail off to the side, swatting it as it attempts to curl back around. Ash knows he's fully exposed now, but he just keeps breathing and reminding himself to trust her.

A warm trickle drips down between his cheeks as Uma wrings out the wet cloth against his skin. She tenderly traces up and down with the cloth, paying special attention to the hole he's never thought much about. Why is she spending so much time there? he wonders.

She submerges the cloth again to fill it with water, then plants her hand on one cheek, pulling it apart just a bit. The tiny, rough corner of the cloth swivels into him, and as Uma squeezes, water dribbles inside. He reflexively puckers, unsure of the sensation. She gently twists the cloth, corkscrewing in and out of his tight entrance. When she withdraws the corner, Ash feels a nagging need he can't quite put his finger on.

But he doesn't need to—Uma places her own wet finger against him, teasing the entrance.

“I’m going to push in, okay?”

“In whe—?” His question is abruptly cut short by the answer. Uma’s slender finger plunges into him, and he bucks his hips upward in response.

“U-uma! What’re you—!” He’s at a loss for words, stunned by this new and exciting sensation. His member stiffens greedily and he begins to loudly pant.

“Ooh, what a good Kitty! I didn't expect you to get worked up so fast! You can rock back on me, go ahead.” She presses deeper into him, almost the entire length of her finger now inside. Muffled squeaks sneak out from Ash, who has clamped his mouth shut to keep from groaning. He pushes back onto her finger and gently starts to rock. Why does this feel so good? This hole isn't meant for that, right? Even so, he can’t deny the electricity pulsing through him or the warmth in his face.

An unexplored part of Ash’s mind clamors to the front, and suddenly the single small finger inside of him seems inadequate. Uma can see his writhing grow more needy, so she gathers more water to wet her hand again and slips in a second finger. As before, Ash struggles to keep quiet, embarrassed at the sounds threatening to escape. She giggles at hearing this and uses her free hand to tease his thighs and exposed member. His knees buckle, and he barely maintains his balance.

“Uma,” he squeaks, his head spinning and stomach starting to swirl.

“Do you need a break, Kitty?” she teases. “Don’t worry, I have a toy for you to play with. Here, come sit on your knees.” She removes her fingers, a low groan slipping out from Ash, and steps out of the bath. As she cleans her fingers, she points to the mat. “Sit.”

Ash’s legs wobble as he goes to kneel on the mat, and his wet skin glistens in the afternoon sun. With his hair still soaked, he looks astoundingly similar to a drenched cat. Uma quickly pats herself dry with a fluffy towel and retreats to her bedroom, calling “Stay!” as she leaves.

What kind of toy could she possibly mean? Ash wonders as he waits for her to return. His nerves are still alive with energy, and his sex drips with excitement. It takes all his willpower to stay put, but he manages to wiggle back and forth just enough to stay focused.

When Uma rounds the corner back into the room, the first thing Ash sees is the protrusion several inches in front of her. Around her hips hangs a belted harness, stitched together with several strips of leather and heavy fabric. Attached to this harness is what Ash can only assume is some sort of rubbery . . . mushroom? However, as she comes closer and stops right in front of his face, he can clearly make out the familiar shape, no bigger than his own.

“Remember what I did the other day, when I put you in my mouth?” Uma asks, stroking Ash’s face with her hand. “Why don’t you try that for me? Suck on my toy, Kitty.”

His face goes red, and he darts his eyes away from hers. She picks up his chin.

“Ah-ah-ah, no looking down. Be a good boy and open wide.” She gently pinches his jaw to force his mouth open. “There we go! Now take this and get it nice and wet.”

Though he’s still embarrassed and struggling to keep his head up, he allows her to enter his mouth. For a second, he’s not quite sure what to do with it, and he tries to recall what Uma did to him. Seeing the hesitation, she just slightly thrusts her hips, letting it pass in and out of his mouth.

That same newly-found part of Ash kicks in like before, and he starts to bob his head to meet the member. He can’t quite place why, but this part of him seems to . . . enjoy sucking on the phallic toy. In fact, his embarrassment begins to fade the longer and deeper he takes it, and he nearly forgets that Uma is on the other end. The fullness in his mouth, the slippery sound, the pull of his lips across the surface—it all awakens an emptiness inside him, an ache he didn’t know he had.

Uma brushes his hair back from his face, catching a faint purring sound from behind his lips. She pulls him off, a string of spit tethered to his lip, and pats his cheek approvingly. He smiles, breathless and tipsy from the flood of emotion.

“Good job, Kitty! I’m impressed. You put your whole little heart in that, didn't you?” she teases. “How do you feel?”

Ash can barely talk; his head is swimming, and thoughts drift away as soon as they bob to the surface. He rests his cheek in Uma’s hand, still quietly panting, and looks to her with pleading eyes.

“I . . . I want more,” he begs through the faintest growl. There's something increasingly animalistic in his face, a wildness just barely contained. Uma smirks and lets go of his face, reaching over to grab the bottle of lubricant she brought with her.

“Of course, poor little Kitty. Come along.” She gestures for him to rise and follow her. He does so, leaving a splotched trail of water as she leads him to her couch. “Bend over the side, like that. Good boy.” She gives him a firm smack as he drapes over the couch, his entire backside left exposed and available.

Seeing his hips slowly squirming, Uma chuckles.

“You really like being bent over doggy-style, don’t you?” she says, kneeling behind him on the couch. He looks back at her, confused.

“You mean tiger-style, right?” His tail twitches impatiently as Uma lets out a peal of laughter.

“Of course, Kitty. Tiger-style. How silly of me!” Still snickering, she opens the bottle of lubricant and begins to wet her shaft and Ash’s tight entrance. He whimpers at the touch, unconsciously pushing back against her.

She gently grabs the back of his hair and gives it a tug. “I assume you’re ready, Big Guy?” she asks in a low murmur. He tries to nod, forgetting his head is being held, and she releases his hair to trace her hand down his spine.

“R-ready,” he pants, clutching the couch as his excitement builds.

Uma places the tip against him, barely poking into him. She lets his body pull her in, taking her time to let him adjust around her. As she enters him so agonizingly slowly, Ash attempts to stifle the groans rising in his chest. When he seems ready for more, Uma presses her hips forward, burying it deep inside of him. The effect is immediate: goosebumps rise all over his body, and his hair stands on end. He lets out a sound neither of them have ever heard from him before, somewhere between a choked sob and a primal moan. His nails dig into the cushions like daggers, and his back arches fiercely, the stripes down his spine stretching to their limit.

She is only barely dipping in and out of him, but Ash is already seeing stars, his mouth hanging open and his lip trembling. Although he’s experienced a lot of new sensations with Uma, each more scintillating than the last, the gentle thrusts of this member inside of him are beyond comparison. He feels so satisfyingly full, the empty ache finally remedied. His barely-coherent thoughts keep repeating one word: yes! Unable to contain himself, Ash begins to push back toward Uma, forcing the shaft deeper and faster into himself.

“Easy, boy,” she murmurs soothingly, massaging his backside. She is astounded at the change in his demeanor; this hulking man reduced to begging on his knees, yet the animal side of him is fighting to come out. As Ash feverishly sinks back and forth and Uma thrusts to meet him, she can hear the inhuman roar beneath his moans. Without warning, his tail furiously wraps itself around her waist, holding her closer.

For a moment, Uma is genuinely frightened of this enormous, feral man. It’s almost as if he’s in a rage; he seems completely out of control. With one wrong move, he could easily injure her. But, as he turns his head and drops even lower, Uma catches the desperate, pleading gleam in his eyes, and she remembers she has nothing to fear. She grasps his tail, unwinding it from her waist, and pins it to his back with her hand. With her other hand, she presses on his hips, holding them still as she pulls out.

His head pops back up, his mouth agape and eyes wide. “U-uma!”

“Ah-ah, Kitty. Calm yourself. You stay still; don’t be greedy. I’ll give you what I give you. Can you be a good boy for me, Kitty?” She tenderly grabs his face, kissing his forehead, then returns to position herself behind him.

He nods. “Yes! Yes, I can! Please, Uma?” His voice is quiet and breathless, intercut with small whimpers. His own member, teased from lightly grazing the soft fabric of the cushions, aches with stiffness. He can feel the tension building inside him, desperate for release.

“Good. Then stay still, like the sweet little statue you are.”

Again, Uma lubricates the toy, taking care to still insert it as slowly as she can. Ash clings to the side of the couch as if he were going to be swept away in the tide. Be still, be still, stay calm, he repeats in his head. But all his willpower begins to melt away as soon as she plunges back inside of him. It's somehow even more delicious than the first time, and he can't help but jerk his hips.

He's met with a stinging smack to his rear, followed by Uma’s soft hand soothing the pain.

“Still like a statue, Kitty. Make as much noise as you like, but stay still. Every time you move, I'm going to smack your plump little cheeks, understand? Here,” she says as she places a pillow by his head. “If you need something to bite down on.”

Ash frantically tucks the pillow beneath his chin and tries to lock down his pleading body. Waves of pleasure wash over him with each stroke, threatening to push him over the edge. He takes Uma’s advice and sinks his teeth into the pillow, letting it absorb his shuddering moans. His whole body is trembling, torn between the command to be still and the electricity surging through him. All he can do is cling to the pillow and helplessly whimper.

“Much better, Kitty,” Uma murmurs.

She rewards his obedience by speeding up and delving deeper into him. His rigid shaft is bright with arousal; it drips, creating a tiny puddle of clear liquid beneath him. Thunder rolls through his muscles as the pressure in him builds, a charge crackling in his mind. I can't take much more! He tries to speak up and tell her he’s nearly at the peak, but all that escapes is an unearthly moan. Burying his face back in the pillow, he rides the wave, desperate for the inevitable storm to rage within him.

“Oh, Kitty, you're doing so good!” She says in response to his outburst. “I know what you want, but you'll have to play by the rules. Stay still, no touching yourself. Just let me make you feel good, alright?”

Is that even possible? Can that happen without touching it at all? His body thrashes against the command, a current buzzing under his skin. He nods, knowing that if he tries to speak, he won’t be able to hold back the eager moans filling his throat.

She pulls his hips up toward her so the gentle caress of the couch no longer touches him. As her strokes grow faster and more frantic, what little self-control Ash has left withers. He bucks his hips, she slaps. He rocks back, she smacks. No amount of correction can keep his frenzied body in check for long. In fact, the repeated sting on his backside starts to become intermingled with the pleasure, enhancing it somehow.

Electricity crackles in his mind, his vision almost blurring as the thunder passes through him. With the next intoxicating stroke, lightning jolts through his shuddering body, his shoulders collapsing to the plush cushions.

“Evi—!” he starts, before shoving his open, drooling mouth onto the pillow. Where did that come from?! He wails as the crackling pleasure causes his knees to buckle and a trickle of white fluid to pool beneath him. He jerks and sputters as wave after wave crashes into him. When he’s fully spent, his body falls limp, another whimper slipping out as Uma removes the toy.

“Ash? Kitty? You okay?” She kneels down by his face, combing his damp hair out of his eyes. “I know that was kind of intense.”

His eyes wander listlessly to her face, but he finds that his vision is still blurred. He tries to rub his eyes, but his fingers come back wet. Am I crying? Why am I crying? Uma sees the panic set in and gently holds his cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she soothes. “This happens sometimes; it’s okay to cry. Are you hurt?” He takes a ragged breath and thinks for a second, then shakes his head. Words just aren’t coming to him now. “Can you move? Why don’t we lay down and rest a minute, yeah?”

She helps him to his feet, his legs wobbling and his mind still a swirling blur. He stumbles alongside her to her bed, slipping beneath the blankets as she climbs in beside him. He curls into her, resting his head on her shoulder. She wraps her arms around him and places a soft kiss on his head.

“You were so brave; I’m really proud of you,” she murmurs. “Get some rest. We can talk when you’re feeling up to it.”

His body is exhausted and a fog hangs over his head. As he lays in her arms, tears continue to flow, though he’s not sure why. What does this mean? Why did I say that? Why, when I look at her, do I just see . . . him?

Through the fog, his bleary thoughts end up where they always do: a pair of golden eyes and a sickle-shaped tail.

[ziracona]

Goddamn wild to me that when I was a kid, I watched the LGBTQA community on here be constantly at war with itself and into fighting as much as possible, especially minimum qualification for meeting X identity discourse, Biphobia, and Ace/Aro exclusionists, and it’s was constantly so tiring, and then kind of amazingly it died out & people were like “Actually we should quit fighting over saddest sexual minority status and being an ass to each other & treating life experience like a vip club” and there was a flood of just like, more open spaces, and comic rep for all kinds of stuff, and people just being nice and genuine and open, and it was great, and then like suddenly last fucking year I start seeing all this asexual and aromantic exclusionist shit again & a resurgence of biphobia like is this 2012 again I really thought you shitheads were over this??? Human nature is apprently that some people just won’t be happy unless they’re spending their free time giving other minorities grief on a consistent basis to feel more special like life experience is a zero sum game I guess. Like for the love of god, please stop.

[sangopearls]

-some genshin boys as high school au classmates ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡

CW: NONE APPLICABLE.

notes: all of the characters are in their mid-late teens to fit the prompt. some romantic tones are applicable but i will never, under any circumstances, sexualize a minor.

childe

smug little bitch. he flirts by shutting your laptop or snatching your phone and running because this man is internally like ten years old.

always passing notes. don’t be surprised if you’re deep in your work and suddenly a paper airplane with a dumb drawing or a childish message comes soaring onto your desk. then he acts like he doesn’t know a thing.

usually avoids studying. he’s the naturally-smart type of bastard who slams his A-paper on your desk with a sly jab about how much fun he had playing video games while you were red-eyeing your study sesh

speaking of study sessions, he’s more than willing to be your study date and buy you both some study snacks/coffee… as long as you can tolerate him getting distracted constantly and doodling on the free spaces of your papers. again… he’s more childish than he’s willing to admit.

zhongli

class president and you can tell by first glance.

usually spends his lunches in the school library studying or learning about new things.

much like in canon, if you ever talk to him, he’ll blab for ages. he wins every class game of kahoot with ease.

has a small circle of friends and doesn’t go out of his way to expand it much. if he’s into you, he’s more of a classic romantic about it. he probably tries to woo you with his prestigious air, bright future, and smooth talk. asks you to prom by having you go to a peaceful area and offering you a small bouquet with a smile warmer than peach cobbler. be ready to meet the parents, this guy’s a traditional suitor.

kaeya

hello, mr. prom king.

high school au kaeya has every girl in the palm of his hand. he’s a charmer, and a lethal one, at that.

he’s got lots of friends and lots of affection. he dresses in the newest and most charming of fashions. unlike many high school boys (irl high school boys slander time!), he puts an active effort into his outfits and his grooming.

in the dating scene, he’s the laidback, charming, and mysterious type. his idea of a date is picking you up in his car, driving somewhere quiet, and chatting for what you’ll later realize has been hours past your curfew.

diluc

diluc behaves similarly to high school au zhongli. he’s pretty reserved, but ultimately more cynical than zhongli. while his peers are interested in learning, charming colleges, and the dating scene, diluc has more of a “get-it-out-of-the-way” attitude when it comes to high school.

he hangs out by himself for the most part and is pretty outspoken about his disdain for his brother’s “cool” persona (author note: i shouldn’t have to say this but this is NOT a ship thing. not in the slightest.) like childe, he’s also pretty naturally smart. after all, diluc knows his future holds a ceo position and he’s going to have to have the education to match. naturally, this contributes to his cynical and antisocial nature.

romantically, diluc would probably attach to other quiet people. he would want to spend his time with someone who truly gets him, not someone drawn to a facade set up to draw in others. while appearing cold, diluc would really cherish and confide in someone warm and genuine :,) (this is starting to sound ghostwritten by donna…)

[troublehotel-sys]

Wait, what did Matt Hargreaves do? /genq

sorry I’m kind of dumb :p also u don’t need to answer this if you are uncomfortable!

TW: fake claiming, ableism, pro-shippers, pedos, TBATF, Nazis, sexual assault (s/a), discourse, death.

Also I would like to mention anon, I realize this sound a bit annoyed/angry, but none of it's against you! I'm very glad you're trying to learn about what's going on and what's wrong instead of ignoring it, I'm just annoyed at the dumb stuff the entire EW crew has been up to.

I am so sorry for being the one to tell you but uh. There's actually quite a bit

Fake claimed DID/OSDD systems in the fandom (image below). He also said kins were stupid and that "you aren't the character" about kins (fun fact if you're new here, I'm an introject of his character and we're a diagnosed/medically recognized DID system, so that's just a huge punch in the gut huh)

Speaks over Edd's family about how Edd's legacy should be/what Edd would have wanted

Made fun of any fanart of changing the characters from the show (especially skin color)

The ableist joke in Beaster Bunny, if you watched that (the one where Tom looks at a bunch of clearly grossly drawn disabled kids and says they're "very.... (pause) special kids.."), as well as the pedophile joke. He's said both that 1. he wrote the entirety of Beaster Bunny and 2. that someone else wrote the pedo joke, but either way he let that shit slide. He looked at that and said "yes, let's advertise this as a more kid-friendly show, and let's also include a joke about pedophilia!"

Defends multiple pedophiles (Patryk Dudulewicz is a pro-shipper and actively reposted a shitload of porn of "technically she's 1000 years old, she just LOOKS like a child!" characters, Christopher Bingham has s/a allegations he refuses to address)

Defends the TBATF team (if you don't know why they're also pretty horrid people, you can look it up for more info- basically they made Red Leader a Nazi and try to make him sympathetic and cool, they completely butchered everything likeable about the characters (most notably Edd, who they've made into a completely unlikeable selfish douchebag), they sexualize every single woman in the comic, been very racist to Romani and Native American people, made jokes about male s/a, and there's a lot of shitty things the creators have done outside of the comic too.)

Actively replaced Tom's alcoholism with food in Beyond and the comics. It's pretty common knowledge that Tomska has had horrible issues with his body image and how he perceives himself, and that's just so fucked up to make his body (even if it is the character, it's BASED on Tomska) a joke.

Said that NONE of Legacy was canon. Trying to completely erase all of Tomska's work on the series, and shitting on Tomska's work and saying nothing he did mattered on the show (even when he left the show specifically due to the stress he was under working extremely hard to please the fandom and keep his friends legacy intact). Even if you don't like Legacy, you have to admit that's just a shitbag thing to say to someone who actively tried to help keep Edd's memory alive.

Tonetags: Not mad (at anon, or at the reader, but I am pretty upset about Matt Hargreaves), serious, pretty disappointed in Matt Hargreaves

[just-antithings]

I found some cool fanart on twitter and it led me to a rabbithole of comments and... how do antis not realize how dumb they sound? "This character is canonically 150 cm so she has to be Minor Coded therefore shipping her with anyone is illegal" bitch she's also canonically 20. If you care so much about canon information why would you leave that out? Or do you just not believe there are short adults? Or maybe antis just hate short female characters. I mean if they have no boobs antis are like "*gasp* a child", if they have boobs antis go wild over it saying they're sexualized minors. What did short female characters do to them?

short female characters fucked their mom and poisoned their water supply

[sapphire-weapon]

You said that part of the fun of old fandom was making backstories for the characters. did you have one for Leon? what was it?

oh boy. this feels so... self-indulgent and cringey now in modern-day fandom, after having dedicated so much time to arguing what is or isn't canon and having to explain multiple times, at great lengths, that the mafia backstory is not canon and why it's not. my brain is just like "shut up and just be glad that people are starting to listen to you at all."

I've mentioned a few of them here and there sporadically over the past few months, so some of these are going to sound very familiar to people who have been following me for a while, but

this is basically the backstory I've come up with for Leon and have been using for mmmm around 20 years, give or take (though I tweaked some slight things to account for Remake Leon, which I'll also note):

● grew up in a suburb around the Hartford, CT area

● only child

● very religious/uptight Catholic mom, dad was basically Mike Cosgrove from Freakazoid

● like seriously, the personalities of his parents couldn't be more different, to the point where it almost doesn't make sense to anyone on the outside looking in how they ended up together at all. but his mom really loves how stable and grounded her husband is and appreciates his really awful sense of humor, and dad fell in love with his wife's cooking and the way she actually laughs at his jokes and the fact that she really believes in something greater than herself -- because he doesn't, and he wishes he did. they also share a taste in music, surprisingly.

● "Scott" is a family name, but Leon's dad was already "the third" and he was like "you really wanna put this kid through being 'the fourth'? that's stupid. just make it his middle name." Leon has never told a single person in his adult life this, but his parents and his very early childhood friends (up until about middle school) actually called him "Scottie" -- because "Scott" was his dad. (yes this headcanon was born directly from how funny I find the whole "Mr. Scott Kennedy" shit in OG RE4 and I'm not sorry) mom's name is Carol.

● mom was a middle school geography teacher (and CCD teacher). dad was a cop (he was bASICALLY COSGROVE)

● was always closer with his dad than his mom, despite the fact that his mom very clearly and very desperately wanted him to be a mama's boy. it wouldn't be quite correct to say that his mom was emotionally abusive, but she definitely didn't Get Him and very rarely actually listened to what he had to say -- she had a pre-constructed image in her head of the kind of person she wanted him to be, and anything that didn't fit that image was either questioned or ignored outright. (NOTE FOR REMAKE-VERSE LEON: this was even worse for Remake Leon, who has a lot more self-awareness than his OG counterpart and started to suspect that he may not be fully straight pretty early in life, even if his conservative upbringing didn't give him the language to express what, exactly, he was feeling. he had a crush on a boy once, vaguely mentioned it in a very roundabout way to his mom, and then spent the next like 10 years convinced he was going to hell. see here for a more in-depth explanation of how I view Leon's sexuality.) dad gave far less of a shit about who his kid was, so long as he wasn't doing dumb shit to get himself in trouble or arrested or something. as a result, Leon's really stupid sense of humor came from his dad, because they did spend a decent amount of time together. the two of them + Leon's uncle (dad's brother), who was maybe a little bit off his rocker, always went hunting once a year.

● was never super religious like his mom is, but still definitely believed. didn't pray regularly -- but prayed enough. he can pinpoint the exact moment that he lost his faith, though: when, while in Raccoon City, he first considered suicide -- and he realized that he was looking not to God for salvation, but to his gun. even as an adult, he won't outwardly classify himself as an atheist, but his general feelings towards God and faith are: "if God is up there, He's not listening anymore."

● wasn't ever super popular in school, but was never an outcast loser nerd, either. he was just kind of... there. he had his own little circle of skater kid/grungecore and metalhead friends, and they just kind of did their own thing.

● didn't actually start to get hot until senior year of high school and kind of thought that people were taking the piss when they started looking at him differently after he'd been so completely ignored as a dating/sexual prospect for so long. plus he had a girlfriend by then, and they'd been together for a while, so he didn't really think too hard about how other people were looking at him, anyway.

● he and his long-term high school girlfriend broke up before they both went off to college, mutually, just because they were going to different schools. (NOTE FOR REMAKE-VERSE LEON: OG Leon lost his virginity to that girlfriend at age 16; Remake Leon didn't. the Remake version of his girlfriend was too prudish to go all the way, but third base was a familiar friend.) this was to the great relief of the girlfriend's dad, who fucking hated Leon's guts and frequently told him that he would never marry his daughter (and once chased him out of the house with a shotgun, but that's a different story).

● played lacrosse in high school. didn't love it, mostly did it to put on college applications. actually wanted to play football, but his mom was adamant about not allowing him to (AND SHE WAS SUPER RIGHT HOLY SHIT DON'T LET YOUR KIDS PLAY AMERICAN FOOTBALL).

● dabbled in some arts stuff here and there in high school and college, but never in a serious way and never for any great length of time. he was more of a math nerd than anything else. but he spent like, half of a school year involved with the lit mag and, despite being a not terrible poet and short story author due to having an inherently romantic nature, dropped it pretty fast out of disinterest. tried being involved with the school paper, dropped that within a year due to disinterest. thought about picking up the guitar because some of his friends were musicians, but never committed to it. the only thing that ever stuck was an interest in film; he spent a decent amount of time in the A/V club and really enjoyed the editing process. probably would've majored in it in college if not for his far greater interest in criminal justice, so he just kept doing it on the side for fun. took some electives for it in college, at the very least, and worked on some student films. mostly horror films, which is ironic to him in hindsight.

● did not go into criminal justice because of his dad; it's just a coincidence that he ended up being interested in the same field that his dad worked. Leon has always had a problem with bullies and was that guy in high school who inserted himself into situations that didn't involve him, just to stand up for someone else. got in only a handful of fist fights as a result of this, and the extent of the scolding from his dad was "knock it off. quit screwin around. you screw around too much." in the most non-committal, "don't actually stop though" tone possible, followed by taking him to get burgers. his mom lost her mind any time he got sent home from school for fighting, though -- and the one time he actually ended up suspended was Literal Hell for that full week. but, either way -- for him, growing up with a very positive opinion of law enforcement to begin with, criminal justice seemed like a natural fit.

● beyond the few times he got in trouble for fighting (in fights he never started and always won), the worst trouble he ever got into was that time his mom found out that he and his friends snuck beer into a Green Day concert in 1994. that was also the first time she learned that her 17-year-old son was already drinking. he got grounded until graduation.

● overall was just a pretty good kid, though. constantly on honor roll. graduated college with a 3.7 GPA.

● mostly behaved in college, too, but he definitely went out and partied when he didn't have anything school-related to worry about. OG Leon partied way more frequently and way harder than Remake Leon did, though. OG Leon dragged his dick all over campus. Remake Leon had maybe a handful of drunken hookups (that still never actually got him laid) and spent most parties being that guy who was taking care of his much drunker friends. catch Remake Leon standing over one of his friends who has their face planted in the sand at a beach party like "hey man. you good? we can't leave yet. I gotta finish this beer." Remake Leon also made an excellent wingman.

● after getting hired at the RPD but before actually able to move out there (in late August, roughly), he did go out to Raccoon City to try to land an apartment so that he'd be ready once he actually did move. he filmed most of that week-long trip in a sort of self-documentary style and edited it all together with the intention of giving it to his parents before he left, in case they started to miss him -- so that they could see where he was and who he'd likely be hanging around with and all that stuff, because he is a Good Boy. he ultimately never finished the very last part of it because of the phone call he got to stay away from the city a week prior to his move, and he soon forgot he'd ever made something like that at all. his mom found it a few months later while cleaning up his room, which she did frequently as a grief response "so that it'll be ready for him when he comes home."

● to date, Leon's family and friends from back home think he died in Raccoon City. the CIA kept a tight leash on where he went and who he spoke to for the first four years of his captivity -- he basically didn't get freedom to live his own life until after Operation Javier. by the time he had the ability to call or visit home, he felt like it was too late -- that it'd be crueler to show up out of the blue after being "dead" for so long -- especially considering that he couldn't stay in their lives. he'd basically just be showing up to say "hey not dead" and then have to disappear again. so he just sort of... let it go. though, of all of the terrible things he's done in the time since then, this is the one thing that weighs heaviest on his conscience -- the one thing that he feels guiltiest about most often. but he continues to stay away, because he has nothing kind to say about the life he's lived or the man he's become. even if he were to go home now, he's convinced that his parents would not recognize their son.

● he doesn't know this, but there is an upright grave marker for him in a cemetery in his hometown dated 1977-1998. buried there is an empty casket with only a framed photo of him. his parents still lay flowers there twice a year: once on his birthday and once on the anniversary of Raccoon City's destruction.

[thegreatestofheck]

dark of the night [A. Hotchner]

word count – 25,555 (its so long im so sorry) warnings - a lot, blood, torture, mentions (but no descriptions) of sexual assault/rape, murder, canon violence stuff, this is essentially a hurt/comfort fic so expect a lot of hurt to come before the comfort, also a slow burn. synopsis - an agent gets taken in the middle of an investigation. in a race against time, the team at the bau must find her by diving into her deepest secrets. when a video tape arrives with horrible images of the state of their friends, aaron hotchner realizes just how terrified he is of losing her.  tagging: @magicalbluepanther (i hope you don’t mind the tag lol) a/n – did anyone order an extra long aaron hotchner slow burn? Because here you’ve got one. so my mental health is declining again and that means I have to write a criminal minds one shot that involves a lot of hurt/comfort. also I gave y/n a name because i don’t really like y/l/n or anything, but you’re more than welcome to replace it with your own! please dont be mad at me. anyway, stay happy, healthy, safe, and groovy!

The moment Agent Hotchner realized that she wasn’t coming back, his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. It had happened once before, this feeling, the day he was in his car and he got that call from Foyet and heard Hayley’s muffled sobbing over the phone. Panic settled into his bones, unable to shake it away even as the terrified eyes of the rest of the team looked his way. 

“Did we just lose her?” Emily Prentiss asked, her words wavering ever so slightly as she tried to keep herself calm. 

At the sound of her voice, Hotch finally found himself able to look around the room. 

Morgan had shifted his eyes back to the door that his friend was supposed to come through. Reid stared at Hotch, wide eyed, lips parted. JJ was chewing on her thumb nail, waiting for Hotch to do something, say something. Emily was looking between the door and Hotch. Rossi was standing behind him, so he couldn’t see the look on his face, but Hotch couldn’t imagine he looked any different than the rest of his team. 

Agent Evelyn Caro had walked into the meeting, undercover, in hopes of baiting a serial killer into a quick and easy arrest. After three years of horrific killings, the BAU team was so close to catching him and Agent Caro was more than willing to be the one to take him down. 

Hotch knew this particular case was a sore spot for Caro, as all torture/murder cases were. But during this entire case, she had been far more on edge and far more eager to tear their suspect to shreds. He shouldn’t have let her go to the meeting, he knew it was too personal for her, even if she had never told him why. 

She had refused to take in a ear piece, said that the stories that would be told at the meeting were personal and their privacy was to be respected. Hotch trusted her. He agreed. They all stood outside and waited. The meeting should have been only two hours, Caro promised that she would be back with the suspect in less than three hours. 

But it had now been three hours and almost thirty minutes. The door hadn’t opened a single time since the last of the members of the meeting left, all except Caro and the suspect. 

She fit his physical appearance preference and possessed the confidence he appeared to have deep hatred for. It should have been an easy job. 

“What went wrong?” Hotch murmured out loud, more to himself. 

His words seemed to trigger something in Morgan, who pushed open the van door and unholestered his weapon before anybody could stop him. 

“Morgan!” Rossi yelled after him, but there was no slowing down, and once Morgan was running toward the meeting building, Emily and Reid were on his tail. 

“Hotch, what do we do?” JJ asked, turning toward him as Rossi hopped out of the car to go after his peers. 

Hotch ran through every single protocol that he knew like the back of his hand. They flitted through his brain like smoke, a flurry of useless words and numbers that meant nothing to him. Not a single one told him how to deal with this. Tightness squeezed at his chest as the rules and regulations he clung so tightly to began to fail him once again. 

“We find her.” 

Gun drawn, Hotch entered the building with JJ on his tail. His heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his composure about him. The same couldn’t be said for some of the others. 

“Evie!” Morgan called out, kicking down a door. 

“Evelyn?” Rossi’s voice echoed through elementary school. 

Hotch was seconds away from calling out her name himself, but he kept his jaw clenched tight. JJ followed every move he made. If he lost himself now, so would JJ. He needed at least one person on his side whose head was still level. 

They scoured the entire grounds, but they could find nothing. The room where the meeting had taken place was empty. Not even the leader was there anymore. This dark room was where the team met up after searching every inch of the grounds. 

There was silence for an eternity as they passed glances between each other, wordlessly asking if anyone had found anything. 

“There’s not even a footprint,” Morgan said helplessly, his eyebrows pulled together in concern. 

“I didn’t hear her scream.” JJ’s voice was weak and her eyes downcast. 

“None of us did,” Rossi replied. 

“We have to find her quickly,” Hotch said, finally trusting himself enough to speak. “He only keeps his victims for five days and if he knows she’s FBI, it’s probably less than that.” 

“I’ll call Garcia, track Evie’s phone,” Morgan said, pulling out his phone and turning away from the group. 

“We start from the ground up,” Hotch instructed. “Right now, Agent Caro isn’t our coworker but a victim and we have to treat her as such if we want to find her. Dig into her life, figure out what connects her to the other victims. Did he take her because she’s FBI or because she’s connected to the others. Morgan?”

“Her phone’s off,” Morgan said, pulling the phone away from his ear. 

“Tell Garcia to look for a connection between all of the victims. Dig and dig deep. Hold nothing back.”

Morgan paused for a moment. They all remembered when they had to do this very thing to him, when he was a suspect all those years ago. He knew what it was like to have his friends digging into a personal life he long wanted buried, how they looked at him differently after they knew, even if they didn’t mean to. He didn’t understand then, that they were trying to help, but he did now. There was no time to hesitate. This was Evelyn they were talking about. 

“Garcia, give me everything on Evelyn Caro that you can find. Dig deep. She needs us,” Morgan said. 

“Got it.” 

“Call me when you get anything.” 

“Yup.” 

She ended the call and Morgan turned back to the team. 

“Garcia’s on it.” 

“Okay, then we need to get back to the station and look at everything again. We have a name. We know it’s him. We just need to find them.” Hotch turned away from the team and started for the exit. “No one goes home until we find her.” 

___

Hotch meant what he said, but no one needed to be told twice. Red rimmed eyes scanned the same files over and over and over again as they waited for any amount of information from Garcia. 

“There has to be something here,” Morgan said with a frustrated sigh. “Something we’re missing.” 

“Why did he take her?” JJ asked as she set down her file. The woman rubbed her eyes before crossing her arms and looking up at the rest of the room. “I mean, what changed in that room that made him want her?”

“He found out she was FBI?” Reid suggested, leaning back in his chair. 

“How though?” Rossi piped in from his position leaning up against the wall. “Caro isn’t dumb enough to reveal herself, we were careful.” 

“She must have said something in that meeting that convinced him that she was a good target,” Hotch said. He could feel all eyes on him as he watched the ground, unable to meet any of their gazes. “Maybe this is how he finds his victims. At these group meetings.” 

“So we sent Evie into a death trap.” Morgan shoved his chair away from the table and stood, hands on his hips as he breathed heavily. 

“We have to figure out what connects her to the other victims,” Emily said. “Just like any other case.” 

“But this isn’t any other case is it?” 

“Morgan-” 

“This is Evelyn we’re talking about!” 

“Morgan, I need you to calm down,” Hotch said, standing from his place. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Hotch.” Morgan trembled with rage, his eyes glazed over with water. “You can’t expect me to sit here and-” 

“I expect you to do your job, Agent Morgan, seeing as that is the only thing that will get Caro back home.” Hotch struggled to keep his voice low. He curled his fists so the others couldn’t see how badly his hands were shaking. 

“You think we’ll get her back?” 

“If you do your job.” 

Morgan breathed in deeply and nodded his head. Before he sat back down, Morgan put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. The kid had his hand covering his mouth, his eyes glazed over like Morgan’s had been. 

Hotch knew how close Morgan and Caro were. Ever since she signed on to the team, the two had been nearly inseparable. Hotch wondered if it was something he needed to discuss with them. Every time that he seriously considered it, he had to question his motivations. Was it to keep complications out of their team or was it something else, something he wasn’t ready to admit? 

Turning his eyes away from Reid and Morgan, Hotch opened his mouth to address the team when Garcia stepped into the open doorway. They all turned to look at her only to see that her cheeks were streaked with tears as she clutched a file in her hands. 

“Garcia, what is it?” Emily stood and walked toward her, a hand out open for her. 

“You...you told me to dig deep so I did,” she stammered. “I...I did and I found...oh, God.” 

“Come in,” Hotch said, trying to smooth the furrow in his brows. 

Garcia took Emily’s hand and shuffled into the briefing room, sniffling through her tears. 

“Our poor baby girl,” Garcia said, setting the file gently onto the round table as if it was fragile. “She never told us-” 

“Garcia.” 

Garcia cleared her throat and nodded her head, flipping the file open. The team crowded around the table. Staring up at them was a picture of a young girl, her face purpled and bloody. Morgan clenched his jaw, Reid turned his face away from the picture. 

“Is that Caro?” JJ asked, her hand hovering over her mouth. 

Hotch had seen this picture before, attached to the file so covered in black redacted lines that he barely gleaned anything from it. But there were no more black lines. Everything about Agent Caro was there for him to read. Her life was an open book for him. This was his job, the only way to get her back, so why did he feel so dirty doing it? 

“When Evie-”

“Evelyn,” Hotch corrected. “She can’t be our friend right now.”

Garcia nodded, her eyes still glassy. 

“When Evelyn Caro was 12 years old, she was kidnapped from her front lawn. She was held captive by her...by her uncle for four years. He did...he did horrible things to her...I’m sorry-” 

Garcia choked, turning away from the file. Morgan put his hand on Garcia’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

“She was held by her uncle,” Hotch continued, eyes scanning the page, when it was clear that Garcia wouldn’t be able to. “There were clear signs of r-pe and physical violence, even though she never spoke about it afterward.” 

“She was held captive by her uncle?” Morgan asked. “How did no one know it was him?”

“Police talked to everyone in the family,” Garcia said, turning back into the conversation. “He was never on their serious list of suspects.” 

“How did she get out?” Rossi asked from his place near the back of the crowd.

“She broke out,” Garcia said, her voice like iron even as her lower lip trembled. “She stabbed that son of a bitch the moment she got the chance and she ran until someone found her.” 

“She killed him?” JJ asked. 

Hotch let out a heavy sigh. Something like pride blossomed in his chest. Maybe it was vindication. He would have killed the bastard himself. 

“Why wouldn’t she tell us?” Reid asked, looking up at Hotch like a lost dog. 

“We all have secrets we’ve kept from each other,” Hotch told him, even though he was wondering the same thing. “Now we need to figure out if this is somehow related to why he took her.” 

There was a moment of silence hanging over the room. 

“Garcia, look into the lives of the other women again,” he continued. “See if there is any kind of connection.” 

“I’m on it.”

There was a new kind of determination in her voice, like a fire was lit underneath her.

“Videos of the other victims were sent to the families of the victims,” Hotch said, looking back at the rest of the team. “JJ, contact her brother, see if he’s received anything and tell him to contact us as soon as he is.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about the rest of us?” 

Once again, all eyes were on Hotch, expecting him to have all of the answers. But he didn’t. He didn’t know anything. 

“Do your jobs.”

___

When the video was sent to her family, it wasn’t her estranged brother who received it. 

“Hotch.” Morgan’s voice was shaking as he picked up the yellow envelope on his desk. “Hotch!” 

As soon as Hotch saw the package he knew what had to be in it. He had seen four of them before all from the previous victims’ families. His heart constricted in his chest. He knew what they were about to watch. Their team member, their friend. 

Grinding his teeth together to keep his face straight, Hotch took the package from Morgan and started back for the briefing room. 

“Do you want me to round up the team?” Morgan asked. 

“You guys shouldn’t have to watch this,” Hotch told him. 

“You’re not watching it alone.” 

Without another word, Morgan went to collect the others. 

Once they were all in the briefing room, Garcia put the recording onto the big screen. 

“You don’t-” 

“We’re staying,” JJ said, her fingers laced with Emily’s. 

Hotch nodded once before looking over at Garcia and signaling her to start the video. 

As soon as Garcia hit the play button, Morgan put an arm around her shoulder and she put a hand up to her mouth. Hotch leaned against a chair, his knuckles going white. 

The screen was black for a few moments. When it turned on, Agent Evelyn Caro was sitting half naked on a cot. Bruises littered her body, her ribs on the left side blackened. A cut ran across a purple cheek with dried blood running down her face. One of her eyes was black. But Caro stared straight ahead of her, eyes made of steal. 

“Oh, baby,” Garcia breathed. 

The room was small, bland. It looked cold. 

A man stepped into the frame. Caro didn’t even look at him, she just kept staring straight ahead. Before he even said anything, he raised a hand and slapped her across the face. Reid flinched, but none of them turned away. Their attention needed to be on this video, gleaning as much information as they could to get her home. Hotch refused to let her suffering go to waste. He would watch every second of it, no matter how much his stomach burned with hatred. 

Caro barely reacted to the backhand, her head snapping to the side, but the rest of her body stayed in the same place, her hands clasped together in her lap. When she straightened her head, blood trickled down from her lip. She lifted a hand to wipe the blood away before looking up at the man. Her eyes carried the heat of a thousand suns as she looked at her assailant, almost as if daring him to touch her again. That was the Caro that Hotch knew. She would never back down, never give in. 

“What do you want?” She asked. 

Hearing her voice so raw sent a chill down Hotch’s spine. Everything about this was wrong. 

“I know what happened to you when you were young,” the man said, walking in front of her. 

Caro clenched her jaw and turned her face forward once again, seeming to pretend that he wasn’t there. 

“Does this feel familiar to you?” the man asked, spinning in a circle. “The room, the bed, the chain.” 

Hotch’s eyes shifted away from Caro and he looked more at the bed. There was indeed a chain attached to the metal of the bed frame. Caro’s jaw tightened again and Hotch watched as she ran a finger over a scar he had seen on her wrist a million times before but never asked her about. He could only imagine a young Agent Caro, chained to a bed. She carried that scar around with her and he had never even cared enough to ask her about it. 

“It’s exactly the same,” Caro said.

The man sat next to her and still Caro didn’t flinch. Not even her breathing changed. Amidst his anger and his fear, Hotch felt pride. Damn right she would not even acknowledge him. Hotch expected nothing less from her. Though he wouldn’t fault her if she did. 

The Unsub put his hand on her knee and Hotch’s eyes went red. His ears rang, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. He watched Caro look down at the Unsub’s hand and Hotch noticed a slight tremble in her body. Her shaking was rage, not fear. He knew her well enough to know that. 

“What do you want?” The tremor reached her voice. Hotch could see her holding back from killing the unsub then and there. Her restraint told him that her captor was the only way out of her room. If she killed him now, she would be trapped. 

The unsub sighed and tilted his head to the side, his eyes fixed on the ground. 

“I want to break you,” he said.

Hotch clenched his jaw, but still Caro’s face stayed straight. She didn’t even blink. The words ‘I dare you to try’ never even passed her lips, but it was a clear challenge in her eyes. 

The image cut and Hotch almost thought that was going to be the end. But then it suddenly clicked on. Caro was slowly sitting up from laying on the bed. The unsub was halfway in the frame, buckling his belt. Hotch heard a quiet ‘oh’ come from Garcia and when he glanced over at her, he noticed tears in Morgan’s eyes. 

Caro seemed stiff as she sat up. The chain that had before been only attached to the bed was now shackled to her wrist. Hotch watched her grimace as she moved her feet to the ground. Her toes curled, telling Hotch that the ground was cold. The entire room must have been freezing. 

A silence hung over the team as they waited for something to happen. 

“You’re tough, I’ll give you that,” the unsub said. Caro refused to look at him. “The other girls gave in at this point.” 

“And then you killed them.” Caro looked over at him, moving slowly and clearly despite the pain that was obvious settling into her bones. 

The unsub shrugged his shoulders, a proud smile on his face. 

“Some girls seem to think that death is better than what I did to them,” he said. “But maybe you kind of like it.” 

Caro pulled harshly against her chain, shutting her eyes and turning her face away from him. 

“Son of a bitch,” Rossi breathed. Hotch refrained from looking back at him. 

“How does she not strangle him?” JJ asked. Her words were tight from the swelling in her throat. 

“He’s her only way out of that room,” Hotch told her. “She kills him and she starves in there.” 

“Not if we find her.” 

They fell quiet again, just soon enough to hear a low rumble of a laugh from the man. 

“I see I struck a nerve.” The unsub said. 

Caro steadied her breathing and straightened her shoulders. 

“I’m not surprised you’ve lasted longer than the other girls, being an FBI agent and all. I wonder how your friends are doing.” 

Caro pulled against the chain again, her eyes squeezing tighter. 

“Ah, another nerve. Should we poke at that one a bit more?” 

The unsub stepped out of the frame. For the briefest moment, with his back turned on her, Caro’s eyes flicked toward the camera. 

“She knows it’s there,” Reid said. “She knows about the camera.” 

Caro sucked in a deep breath and gave a short nod of her head. She knew her taker’s MO. She knew about the videos and the envelope. She knew they were watching her, and she was telling them that she was okay. 

When the unsub walked back into frame, he was holding something in his hands. With his back to the camera, they couldn’t get a good look at what he was holding.

“I am aware that your brother is the only remaining relative of yours who will speak to you, is that correct?” The unsub said.

Caro breathed deeply in once, her eyes staring straight through the unsub.

“This is him and his wife, their two daughters. Beautiful family. When was the last time you spoke to them?”

Agent Caro’s eyes moved from the unsub to the object in his hand and her eyes immediately welled up with tears. The unsub clicked his tongue.

“It’s the shame, isn’t it? It eats you up inside. You can’t bear the thought of tainting your brother and his perfect family with your past.”

She closed her eyes and turned her face away.

“This is Penelope Garcia, yes?”

Garcia straightened her back, surprised at hearing her name.

Caro opened her eyes and Hotch noticed a drastic shift in her breathing. Once steady and calm, her chest now rose and fell at an uneven pace. Her eyes darted between whatever the unsub was holding and his face.

“Jennifer Jareau?”

The unsub tossed something onto the bed next to Caro. And then another.

“David Rossi?”

For the first time, Caro flinched as he flicked what Hotch was starting to realize was a picture in her direction.

“Emily Prentiss. Spencer Reid.”

Two more pictures were thrown at her and Caro flinched twice more.

“Derek Morgan.”

A fire lit in Caro’s eyes as she stared up at him again.

“Aaron Hotchner.”

Before he could even throw the picture her way, Caro jumped up from the bed and charged at him, pulling on the chair.

“If you touch them, I swear I’ll kill you,” she seethed.

The unsub shoved her backward onto the bed, but she scrambled up again. He hit her across the face, sending her back with a yelp. Breathing heavily, she turned to look at him, like a rabid dog.

“That’s a hard promise to make seeing as you are chained to a bed and I am not.”

“She has to know that he can’t hurt us,” Emily said, looking to Hotch for answers.

“She’s panicking,” Hotch replied. His knuckles tightened over the chairs.

“You think I won’t go after them?” the unsub said as he dropped a hand onto her shoulder.

Caro turned her face away from him and shook her head.

“You can’t,” she said. Her voice was growing weak, shaking more. “They’re FBI, you can’t just-“

She didn’t get the chance to finish before the unsub threw a fist across her face.

“I won’t even have to hurt them though, will I?” The unsub sneered, bending down close to her face. “I bet by now they know every dark secret about your past. Every skeleton in your closet. They know about the blood on your hands.”

Hotch had read her file that Garcia dug up a thousand times over in the last few days since she found it. Something in him told him he had to, though another part of him wanted to wait until Caro was there to tell him herself. But she deserved better than for her story to go unknown. She deserved to have someone know.

“No,” Caro whimpered.

“You really think they’ll accept you after that?” The unsub let out a laugh.

“Evie, we love you,” Garcia said as she took a step forward. “Evie-“

“Garcia, quiet,” Hotch said, putting out a hand.

“Sir, she has to know, she has to know.”

Morgan put his arm back around Garcia and pulled her in for a hug.

“She knows,” he whispered to her.

“You lost your family once because of what you did to your uncle,” the unsub said. “Now you’ll lose another.”

“No!”

Caro threw herself at the unsub once again, her fists flying. Hotch had seen her fight before. She was well trained, and she was calculated, confident. But this was animalistic. This was pure instinct. Her punches were weak and light, hitting the places of the unsub where very little damage would be done. The chain prevented any real effort from her, though the bed shook and rattled as she yanked against the metal. It didn’t take him long to wrestle her onto the bed, pinning her down by her arms.

Her face was clearly displayed to the camera. She breathed sporadically, panting and gasping for air. Sweat beaded down her battered face. Her eyes were wide and flitting back and forth, terrified.

“How would you feel if I paid one of them a visit, huh?” The unsub asked, his nose brushing against her cheek.

Caro struggled, a growl of frustration strangled in her sore throat.

“That Spencer Reid lives alone, doesn’t he?”

Rossi put a hand on Reid’s shoulder, who had suddenly gone pale.

“Don’t touch him!” She thrashed again, trying to throw the unsub off of her. She tried to kick her feet, but they were effectively pinned under her by the weight of the unsub. She grunted and groaned in the effort it took to try and get him off of her.

“I doubt it would take much to strangle that skinny neck of his.”

Caro suddenly stopped struggled. The sweat that pooled down her cheeks suddenly started to look more like tears as her body went still.

“Please don’t hurt them,” she said, her voice quiet.

“What, you don’t want me creeping into Emily’s apartment tonight, pay her a little visit?”

Caro let out a quiet sound, something that was almost like a sob.

“Please.”

“What will you do for me in return?” He asked, pressing still closer to her face.

Caro rolled her head back and forth on the bed and Hotch could see the tears that pooled in her eyes.

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

She just nodded her head, lower lip quavering.

“Don’t give up, baby girl,” Morgan whispered. Garcia clung tighter to his hand.

“Well, well,” the unsub said with a sigh as he sat up, releasing Caro from his hold. Her body sagged even further into the cot. He stepped away from the cot and bent down to pick up some of the pictures that fell to the floor. “There isn’t really anything I want from you just now, so I might go and visit one of your friends just to keep you on your toes.”

“No!” Caro leapt from the bed and attached herself to the unsub’s back.

He threw her against back against the cot. Hotch could see him lift his hand to deliver hit after hit to his agent, but he was grateful that the unsub’s back blocked the view of the camera. He didn’t think he could stand to watch her get beaten.

Caro was surprisingly silent as the unsub hit her.

It was over relatively quickly. The unsub straightened himself out, squaring his shoulders. Without a word, he turned to the camera and walked toward it. Caro let out a quiet groan just before the unsub picked up the camera and shut it off.

There was a heavy silence that fell over the team.

“What the hell did we just watch?” Emily asked, setting her eyes on Hotch.

They were once again expecting him to have all the answers, but he had nothing to say. His hands were cramping from how hard he was clenching onto the chair. It took all the strength in him not to throw it across the room. Caro should be here with them, not in that room, not with that man.

“Garcia, can you play the end again and turn up the volume?” Rossi asked.

“No offense, sir,” Garcia said, teary eyed. “But I can’t watch that again.”

“Just the very end, as he’s walking toward the camera. Agent Caro said something.”

“Did she?” JJ asked, crossing her arms.

Garcia pressed a few buttons on her laptop and the video returned. Hotch was almost tempted to look away. The audio was louder as the unsub heaved out an exhausted sigh and started walking toward the camera. And then they heard it, the quiet groan. But it wasn’t a groan at all. She had said something, just a quiet name.

His name.

Aaron.

___

Sitting at his desk, Hotch couldn’t seem to lift his heavy head from his hands. The window, which was almost always closed, was wide open. His office was too stuffy, too hot. He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t get the sound of his name from her lips out of his head.

A knock came to his door and he finally lifted his head. Rossi was standing there with his usual “something is wrong and I’m going to fix it” face. Hotch wasn’t sure if he was in the mood for this conversation.

“What can I do for you, David?”

“We have to talk about what just happened,” Rossi said.

“I don’t really think-“

“Aaron, listen to me,” Rossi said, walking into the room. “Evelyn needs you right now.”

“There’s nothing I can do that the team isn’t already doing.”

“She said your name.”

“I know that. You think I don’t know that?” Hotch’s tone was a little sharper than he meant it to be. He let out a sigh and stretched out his fingers.

Rossi sat down across from him.

“Why? We all know that she’s closest with Morgan, so why say your name?” Rossi asked. Hotch squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. The exhaustion headache that was plaguing him wasn’t helping the fact that thinking about who Caro was and wasn’t closest with lit a fire in his gut. “And why your first name? She only ever called you Hotch, like the rest of us.”

“That’s not true,” Hotch said, memorizing the lines on his hands so he wouldn’t have to look at Rossi.

“What isn’t?”

“She’s called me Aaron.”

“When?”

“When she was angry with me,” Hotch said. The thought of it pained him. He could hear her sharp tone, the way she hissed his name like venom. When she thought he was too cold, too apathetic.

“Or….”

“Or what?”

There was another time when she called him Aaron. Three other times.

On the worst day of his life, when he held Hayley’s body in his arms, Caro had sat next to him on the floor. People were calling his name. “Hotch, Hotch, Hotchner.”

She sat there on the ground and whispered his name just once, “Aaron.” It was quiet, like a pin dropping during a storm. But still he heard her.

“Aaron, your son,” she said.

That decision, to stay with Hayley or go find Jack, tore his soul into pieces until she spoke again.

“I’ll stay with her.”

The second time was a few weeks after Hayley’s death. Hotch wasn’t handling it well, or at all. She saw right through the façade that he had put forward. He was at the office late one night and so was she. Even when he tried to send her home, she politely refused, saying there was a lot of work she needed to get done.

He spent hours in his office, the grief and the sorrow and the shame building and building and building until he was suddenly standing over his desk. Everything here reminded him of Hayley. The baseball, the picture of Jack, even the piles of papers that were stacked high, shaming him for not being there for her more.

The only way to keep himself from crying was to let the anger take over. Anger at Foyet, anger at the job, anger at the world, anger at himself. Forgetting where he was, Hotch had dumped everything off of his desk with one sweep of his arm.

Collapsing to the ground, Hotch didn’t remember how long he sat there, leaning against his desk, hyperventilating, until Caro walked in. She didn’t say anything to him. She just lowered herself to the ground next to him, letting out a long sigh. She just sat there, breathing louder than Hotch was used to her breathing, but he found after a few minutes that his breathing began to match hers. A calmness returned to his body, at least enough to breathe normally.

“Aaron?”

He turned to look at her, the edges of his eyes lined with red.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Hotch nodded his head. He pushed himself to his feet before helping Caro to hers.

“I’ll drive,” she said, stepping around all of the things on the ground.

“What about-“

“We’ll deal with it tomorrow,” Caro had said. “Come on.”

She talked to him all the way back to the car. She asked if he wanted to talk about what made him dump all of his stuff on the ground. When he said no, she asked him about Jack instead. It felt comfortable to talk to her about his son, even though he tried to keep personal life and business separated. He had never really talked to her about anything other than work, except for the times when the team would go out to eat, back when Hayley would come with them. She would talk about her brother, his family, but very vaguely.

Now he supposed he knew why she was always so vague.

The third time she called him Aaron, they were on a case. Young girls being kidnapped, assaulted, and dumped. This was one of many cases just like it. Hotch couldn’t even remember what town they were in now. All he remembered was walking by Caro’s hotel room and feeling like he needed to go inside. Something pulled him to a stop outside her door that night and he couldn’t ignore it.

He knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for a respond before he opened in.

Caro was still up, even though they had left hours ago. She had skipped the meal they all shared together, which was unlike her. She sat at her desk, the lamp on but not the overhead light. The case that they were working was laid out in front of her. When she looked up at him, startled that he had come in, her eyes were red and he couldn’t tell if it was all of the reading or if it was something else.

“What can I do for you, Hotch?” Caro asked, one of her legs propped up on the swivel chair.

“I….” He hadn’t really thought this far ahead. “….wanted to check on you, see how you were doing.”

Caro’s lips pulled into an amused smile.

“You never check on me.”

“Maybe now’s the time to start.”

They were quiet for a few moments until Caro let out a sigh. She patted the bed, signaling for him to sit.

“These cases, the ones with the young girls, they’re hard,” Caro told him after he sat down.

Hotch felt like a foreigner sitting there and talking to her, awkward as he sat on her bed, like it shouldn’t be him here doing this. But she seemed so eager to talk, like she was just waiting for someone to ask.

“I understand,” Hotch said finally, looking at the carpet. “They’re hard on all of us.”

“Aaron.”

At the sound of his name, he looked back at her and he could see the tears in her eyes. He didn’t realize it then, but she had been begging him to understand so she didn’t have to say. She didn’t want to have to say it.

He couldn’t sleep that night and he didn’t know why.

“She called you Aaron when she was mad at you or….” Rossi’s voice pulled him back to the present.

“Or she needs me to listen.”

“So, what does she need you to hear?”

___

“He knows her,” Hotch said suddenly, startling the life out of the half sleeping agents.

“What?” Morgan asked, sitting up.

“The unsub knows her. There is no way that he learned all of this about her at the meeting they went to. No way he could have replicated the room that she was kept in when she was a child unless he had personal information.”

“He knew everything about her…and us…before he even took her,” Rossi said, his voice laced with awe. “Which means….”

“All those other murders were about getting her here.” Hotch felt his heart restrict in his chest. “This has all been about her. She was the piece we were missing.”

“Sir?” Garcia hurried into the room, meaning she had found something. “The link between all the victims, I think I found it.”

The team turned toward her.

“Evie is the link.” Garcia swiped up on her laptop, a couple different screens popping up on the big screen. “Sarah Jordans went to kindergarten with Evie. Paulette Bobin was the daughter of the police officer who found Evie after she escaped her uncle. Robin Everard was her high school drama teacher’s niece. Celia Hough was the sister of a woman she walked dogs for in middle school. They weren’t close enough to Evie for her to recognize them, but they were all a part of her life in some way.”

Hotch looked over at Rossi and shook his head.

“It’s been about Caro all along. All of it.”

“That means that the place she’s being held is about her too,” Morgan said. “More than just making the room look the same. He’s holding her somewhere that means something to her.”

“Garcia,” Hotch said, turning his attention back to the tech analyst. “Who owns the uncle’s house now?”

“You think he took her back there?”

“She said the room looked exactly the same. Maybe because it was the same.”

“The house passed onto his wife’s son when he died,” Garcia said.

“Where is the son now?”

“He is….” They all watched her carefully, waiting for the last piece of information. “…. He changed his name just after his father’s funeral to….”

Hotch turned back to the screen, where the picture of the unsub was plastered so none of them would forget it.

“Ralph Bennet,” Morgan said, venom in his words. “The unsub.”

“How did she not recognize her own cousin?”

“His father and mother got divorced when he was young. He didn’t even know he had a step-dad who was still alive until he was dead,” Garcia said.

“So, Ralph Bennet was the step-son of Caro’s uncle. He feels like he has to punish her for taking another father figure away from him,” added Reid.

“He wants her to pay. He wants to hurt her in any way possible.”

“He’s got her at her old house.”

___

Evelyn could barely see. Her eyes were weak and tired, partially from the crying and partially from the lack of sleep. She was terrified of letting her eyes shut, of letting her guard down. She needed to stay awake, to keep her guard up. But she couldn’t take her eyes away from the red stain on the floor.

The cot mattress was itching her skin. If she could ignore the itching, she would begin to feel the sting of the metal chain against her skin. She preferred the itching.

A thud from downstairs echoed to her room. The attic. Pretending like this wasn’t that room she had been kept in for all those years was the only thing that was keeping her from breaking down, but that wall between what she pretended was real and reality was growing thin.

Breathing in through her nose, Evelyn shut her eyes and imagined herself back in her apartment, safe and warm. In her hands was a cup of tea, chamomile with only one sprinkling of sugar. It was raining outside. Not too hard, but hard enough that she could hear it pattering against the window. Her dog slept at her feet, breathing softly. In her lap was-

Another thud from downstairs, tearing Evelyn from her fantasy. She opened her eyes and looked toward the door.

“Ralph?” She called out, voice hoarse. There was no response.

When the door burst open suddenly, Evelyn yelped and jumped backward, curling her legs in on herself.

Ralph stood there, his face red and sweat beading down his forehead.

“What’s going on?” Evelyn asked, curling up tighter.

Ralph let out a growl of frustration and started toward her.

“Ralph- no!” Evelyn kicked out at him, but he grabbed hold of her ankles and dragged her to the edge of the bed. “What are you-“

“Shut up,” Ralph snapped, unlacing the chains around her wrist. “We’re leaving.”

“What-“

“I said shut up!”

He tugged down hard on the chain, making it dig deeper into the wound around her wrist. Evelyn hissed in pain, but she quieted as he told her. There was another thud from downstairs and Evelyn snapped her head in the direction of the sound. Things were slowly starting to come together; Ralph’s shaking hands, his red face, the thudding downstairs.

Evelyn looked between Ralph and the door. She sat a still as she could while his trembling hands, waiting for the just right moment. As soon as the chains were loose, Evelyn slipped her wrist out of the chain, kicked Ralph over with as little strength as she had, and ran for the door.

“Aaron!”

Her cry echoed through the house just before Ralph grabbed her from behind, clamping a hand over her mouth.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He hissed, dragging her back into the room.

“Caro?”

Evelyn gasped through Ralph’s hand at the sound of Hotch’s voice, trying to shout back. She struggled against Ralph as he pulled her back to the bed, thrashing her shoulders to try and break free.

“Agent Caro?”

I’m here, Hotch, I’m here.

Ralph threw the weak Evelyn onto the bed and backhanded her across the face so hard that her head started to spin. She stretched her jaw, blinking away the blackness in her vision.

“Evie!” From somewhere far away, she thought she could hear her best friend, Derek Morgan, calling for her. She opened her mouth to call back, but all she felt was numbness.

By the time she finally felt like she could see again, there was someone else in the doorway. At first glance, she thought it was Ralph, but he was still there in the room with her. The man in the doorway had a gun, the man in the doorway was Aaron Hotchner.

“Ralph Bennet, step away,” Hotch said.

Evelyn watched, head blurry as Ralph did as he was told, backing away from her. But he was going the wrong way. There was something wrong that way. Something she needed to tell Hotch about.

“You came for me,” she said, trying to smile.

“Are you okay, Caro?”

Evelyn could feel the headache behind her eyes begin to fade. She nodded her head once, letting her eyes close. There was something she needed to tell him, something really important.

“There’s something,” she said, shaking her head to try and clear it. “Over there-“

Before Evelyn could even finish, Ralph stepped forward and swung a bat at Hotch, the bat that Evelyn knew was in the corner. The bat that broke her ribs. That was what she needed to tell Hotch about. But now it was too late.

The bat knocked Hotch’s gun out of his hands and onto the ground. Hotch wasted no time in jumping into action, springing at Ralph without a second thought. Evelyn tried to shake herself out of her stoper. She would be no help to anyone weary. Even if malnutrition and the beating she got that morning were the cause of her exhaustion, she wanted to be of more help.

Hotch knocked Ralph backward, but Ralph held tight to the bat in his hands, using it to push Hotch backward. It was hard for Evelyn to follow the fight, her eyes not able of following every hit and swing. When her eyes finally caught up with what was happening, the ringing in her ears starting to fade, Evelyn found that Hotch was on the ground, Ralph standing over him with the baseball bat, ready to bash his head in.

Evelyn pushed herself off of the bed, her legs weak and shaking, and ran toward Ralph.

“Don’t touch him!” She growled, reaching up to grab hold of the bat.

“Let go, bitch!”

It didn’t take much for Ralph to throw Evelyn’s grip off the bat, but only by throwing the bat out of his hands as well. She hit the ground with a thud, the force rattling through her bones. Ralph immediately turned his attention back to Hotch, who was still on the ground but in a less vulnerable state.

On the ground with Evelyn were the bat and the forgotten gun, but they were all the way on the other side of the room. She didn’t know if she could make it there and back before her legs gave out.

She was laying on the ground by the edge of the bed, hearing Hotch and Ralph go at it. There had to be something that she could do. She had to do something. As she pushed herself up, Evelyn’s had grazed over the chain, the chain that had been used to keep her tied to this bed for days. Looking up at Ralph, Evelyn dug into all that bitterness and all the rage that she had been brewing for the past twenty years of her life and found some ounce of strength.

Strength enough to wrap her hands around the chain. Strength enough to pick to chain off the ground. Strength enough to stand.

With Ralph paying attention to Hotch, his back was left exposed to her. He didn’t think she had the strength left. He thought he broke her.

But she was unbreakable.

Wrapping the chain around one of her hands, she walked up behind Ralph and swung the chain around his neck. He let out a startled gasp, lifting a hand, but not before Evelyn grabbed the chain with her open hand and pulled. Ralph stumbled backward into her. He slapped at her hands. He tried to hit her with the back of his head.

But the adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her strong. She pulled tighter, tensing her hands.

Ralph gagged and Evelyn scrunched her nose. He let out a gurgling sound and Evelyn groaned as the muscles in her arms began to cramp from the tightness. But still she did not let go.

Hotch stood, his lip bleeding and his eye beginning to bruise. Ralph and Evelyn stumbled over; he fell to the ground and she landed on the bed, never once letting the chain go slack.

“Agent Caro,” Hotch said. “You can let him go.”

Evelyn only pulled tighter. Ralph smacked at her hands lamely, choking sounds gurgling from his throat. His legs kicked out, struggling in the same way that she had been. His legs kicked and his body twitched and his arms flailed out and he maybe felt an ounce of the terror that Evelyn had.

“Caro.”

Evelyn’s face twisted she breathed heavily, pulling tighter against the chain until Ralph’s eyes were rolling.

“Evelyn.”

She froze, looking up at him. All the tension in her face faded as her eyes met Hotch’s. She always used his first name when she needed him to listen to her, but now it was her turn to listen to him. Ralph gasped for the air that was slowly entering his lungs.

“You can let him go.”

Evelyn remembered that scared little girl she was all those years ago. There had been no other option then. It was just her, her uncle, and the knife in her hand. It was kill him or live the rest of her life in a prison. She felt like that again. Alone, terrified, trapped, cornered. There was no other way out.

“You’re safe now, Evelyn,” Hotch said. “You can let him go.”

She wasn’t alone anymore. Hotch was here with her. She wasn’t that terrified little girl with no way out. She was an FBI agent. She had grown and she had learned and she was no longer alone. Her team had come from her. Her family had found her.

She let go of the chain, pulling her legs onto the bed. Ralph heaved in lung fulls of air, but Evelyn kept her eyes on Hotch. He took a step toward them, pulling out his handcuffs. Evelyn flinched away, pulling her legs in tighter.

“These aren’t for you,” Hotch told her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Relaxing her muscles as best as she could, Evelyn nodded her head.

“I know,” she said. “I know.”

She sat there on the bed while Hotch roughly rolled a still coughing Ralph onto his stomach to handcuff him. Once the handcuffs were on, Hotch turned back to Evelyn, who was still staring at him. Her eyes were full of tears.

It was hard for Hotch to say that he didn’t enjoy beating Ralph into the ground. He shouldn’t want to keep beating the shit out of the man now that he was in handcuffs, but seeing those tears in her eyes made Hotch want to. He had been tempted to let Evelyn kill Ralph. She deserved that bit of closure. But he knew the guilt that she already carried, the guilt she would carry on top of that. He knew because he carried that same guilt.

Still, he wanted to see that monster dead. He wanted to wipe those tears from her eyes before they even had a chance to fall.

“Caro-“

“Evie!”

Morgan burst into the room, his eyebrows pinched together in worry. Evelyn tore her gaze away from Hotch at the sound of Morgan’s voice.

“Derek.” The relief in her voice as she said his name made Hotch’s stomach drop.

Morgan rushed toward the bed and dropped to his knees in front of it. He reached forward and pulled the tattered blanket on the bed up and around Evelyn’s shoulders, covering her. Evelyn just stared at him, the tears threatening to fall from her lashes. Morgan brushed hair from out of her face as a smile began to pull at his lips. His smile made her almost able to break a grin too.

When Morgan first put his arms around Evelyn, het body immediately tensed. She expected to be surrounded by Ralph’s smell, feel his clammy skin on hers. But it was Morgan’s smell; that expensive cologne she had bought for his birthday mixed with the laundry detergent he always used. He held her tight. Even when she opened her eyes, she wasn’t able to look down enough to see Ralph, which was probably Morgan’s intention. She would have done the same thing.

The adrenaline had succeeded in keeping her heart rate steady, but now that Morgan was holding her, her heart started to pound.

Hotch grabbed Ralph off the ground and hoisted him to his feet. Evelyn listened as he shoved Ralph down the stairs, Ralph grunting and groaning all the way down.

It wasn’t until they could no longer hear him that Morgan pulled away. She didn’t want to let him go, afraid that she would begin to crumble without him there. Morgan put a hand on her cheek and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Let’s get you home.”

___

The first worst part about walking down those stairs was remembering the last time she had done this. That red stain on the floor had been there for twenty years. Evelyn had left her uncle bleeding out on the floor while she stumbled down the stairs, dazed, terrified. She knew the blood was the same because she had been covered in it too.

The second worst part was when everyone turned to look at her.

JJ, Emily, Reid, and Rossi were all in the downstairs of the house. They had holstered their guns, but Emily still had her hand on hers. The stairs were too narrow for Morgan to walk alongside her, so he held her hand as he walked in front of her. She was almost hesitant to take that final step, terrified of how the others would look at her.

When they heard the stair creak, they all turned their heads toward Evelyn. She froze, her blood running cold. She expected the concerned stares, the pitied eyes, it was all she got last time. Tightening the blanket around her shoulders, Evelyn couldn’t bring herself to look them in the eyes.

JJ walked toward her, stopping only a few feet away.

“Can I hug you?” JJ asked.

Evelyn looked up to see that there were tears in her friend’s eyes, but a smile on her face. There was no pity, only relief.

Slowly, Evelyn nodded her head. JJ didn’t need to be told twice. She closed the distance, wrapping her arms around Evelyn’s neck. Emily was next, pressing a gentle kiss against the side of her head. Reid’s hug was awkward, shaky.

“If you ever need to talk,” he said quietly.

Evelyn nodded her head. She knew that he understood what it was like, to be taken and held against your will. She gave him a gentle smile that he returned. Rossi was the last to approach her. He had teary smile on his face as well. He didn’t hug her entirely, but instead put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her toward him to press a kiss against her forehead.

“C’mon,” Morgan said. “Ambulance is out here.”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Evelyn said, looking over at him and giving a shake of your head.

Morgan raised his eyebrows, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Same old Evelyn.” He put an arm around her shoulder, as he always did. The action was simple, but it was enough to make her smile, to make her feel normal. “But yes, we’re taking you to the hospital.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes but let him lead her outside to the ambulance. Hotch was already out there, talking quietly to the EMT. Ralph must have gone in a different police car. He was nowhere to be seen.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital?” Morgan said once she had a quick once over by the EMT.

“You’re not going to ride with me?” She asked. Evelyn hoped that the fear of being alone again that she was feeling didn’t show through in her voice.

“Hotch’ll go with you.”

Morgan dropped a hand on Hotch’s shoulder, who wore his usual scowl, his arms crossed. He turned toward Morgan, who raised his eyebrows and walked away.

“I’ll be right back,” the EMT said before turning and walking away.

Evelyn sat on the bed, still wearing the blanket Morgan had wrapped around her. Her stomach twisted as Hotch walked toward her. She kept her eyes at the ground, chewing on the inside of her lip. She could feel only shame as he looked at her. Maybe it was because he could see the bruises and the cuts and the blood. Maybe it was because she was at her lowest and he was her boss who should only ever see her at her best. Maybe it was because he had to talk her down from choking the life out of a man. Maybe it was some combination of everything.

“Are you okay?” He asked her, leaning up against the ambulance.

Evelyn nodded her head slowly. She would have responded with a decisive yes, but her mouth had gone too dry to talk.

“That’s a stupid question, of course you’re not okay,” Hotch muttered and looked down at his feet.

“I’m okay,” Evelyn affirmed. “I’m okay.”

When he looked back up at her, Evelyn was surprised to see his eyes were watery.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get you sooner.”

Evelyn shook her head as aggressively as she could manage.

“I knew you would come, Hotch,” she told him. “I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault.”

Hotch let out an almost bitter laugh.

“I should be saying that to you.” Hotch looked at her in such a way that made Evelyn’s stomach squeeze. “All this time, and you’re still looking after me.”

Evelyn gave him a small smile in return.

“Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Of course.”

The EMT returned, telling Hotch that they were getting ready to go. He pulled himself into the ambulance and the EMT followed after him.

“Lie back,” the EMT said. Evelyn did as she was told, feeling a suffocating feeling settling on her chest as she stared up at the white ceiling. The sting of tears returned to her eyes and she wasn’t sure if she had the strength to hold them back.

Her hands tensed at her side, clenching around the blanket of the gurney. Hotch, now sitting in the chair beside her, reached out and took her hand in his. She turned her head to look at him, sniffing in deeply.

“It’s going to be okay,” Hotch told her before giving her a sharp nod.

Evelyn nodded back at him, breathing in deeply. She let go of the blanket and shifted her hand around until her fingers were laced through his. She didn’t know how comfortable he was with holding her hand, but at the moment she didn’t care. She needed someone’s hand to hold. She needed his hand to hold.

She wasn’t in the hospital for very long, which she was grateful for. Garcia got there as soon as Evelyn was released and put a pair of shaking arms around her, already dissolved into tears. Evelyn laughed, grateful for her friend’s antics.

“I love you so much,” Garcia said, her tears watering Evelyn’s neck.

She had ditched the gross blanket and was currently sporting a wonderful hospital gown and Hotch’s coat.

“Are you staying somewhere? Do you need somewhere to stay? I’ve got some clothes and a warm bed and I can make you some tea-“

“I really appreciate it, Pen,” Evelyn said, “But Hotch offered me a bed already.”

Garcia stopped her rambling to stare at her, glancing behind Evelyn to where Hotch was talking to the rest of the team.

“Hotch offered-? Right, okay. That’s good. I still brought you some clothes to wear. Come with me.”

“O-okay.”

Garcia led Evelyn to the bathroom to put her in some clothes.

“As soon as they went to get you, I went home to grab you some clothes.” Garcia dropped her bag on the ground. Evelyn covered her mouth with her hand to keep herself from laughing. It was sweet of her friend, but Evelyn didn’t think she needed that many clothes for a few nights. “I hope it’s enough.”

“Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Evelyn stepped into one of the stalls and pulled a thin sweater on over her head and a pair of sweatpants. It wasn’t the cutest outfit, but it was comfortable, and it covered her ill looking body, so it would do.

Penelope was wiping tears away when Evelyn stepped out of the stall. Evelyn smiled at her and put her hands on her friend’s shoulders.

“I’m okay, Pen.”

“Evie-“

“I’m really okay. I promise.”

Penelope let out a heavy sigh and nodded.

“Can I have a smile? It’ll make me feel better,” Evelyn said in a sing-songy, letting her hands fall back to her side.

A smile tugged at Penelope’s lips and she turned away, letting out a little laugh.

“There you go. Now the world’s right again.”

Evelyn and Penelope left the bathroom and rejoined the group just as Hotch was finishing his little speech.

“Go home, everybody. Get some sleep. We’ll come back to work on Monday,” Hotch was saying.

“Thank you,” Evelyn piped up before they turned to go their separate ways. “For everything.”

___

Hotch opened the front door of his apartment. It was dark inside, only one of the lamps were on. It was silent, still. Part of it was reassuring, the stillness. Part of it was unsettling, the quiet.

She looked back at Hotch and he nodded his head, so she stepped inside.

It felt better once she was inside. It was warm, warmer than the attic.

She had never even imagined stepping into Hotch’s home. She expected it to be stiff and cold like his office was, impersonal. But it was lively, with pictures hung on the walls and décor covering shelves full of books. Evelyn wondered absent-mindedly how much of it was Hayley’s sister or if Hotch had a secret interior designer in him somewhere. The thought made her smile.

“You’ll sleep through here,” Hotch said, his voice in a hushed tone. Jack was probably already in bed.

“Your room?” She asked, keeping her voice equally as low.

Hotch nodded.

“I’m not going to displace you,” Evelyn said. “I can sleep on the couch.”

On the couch, there was already a blanket and pillow set up.

“No, Caro. I can’t let you sleep on a couch your first day back,” Hotch said, giving his head a shake.

“Hotch, seriously-“

“Agent Caro…”

Evelyn tilted her head down and raised an eyebrow.

“Now you’re using your boss voice on me.”

To her amazement, Hotch actually smiled. He was looser here, less uptight. Something about passing into his house must have been some kind of release. Domestic Hotch was very different than at work Hotch.

“Fine,” Evelyn said. “But only for tonight.”

“I’ll be out here if you need me.”

Evelyn nodded her head. She turned down the hall as Hotch walked toward the couch. Evelyn stopped, turning to say one last thing to him, but she decided against it. He sat with his back to her, taking off his shoes. She watched him let out a deep sigh and roll tension out of his shoulders. Evelyn couldn’t help but think that she was the cause of that tension and the sooner she was out of his hair the better.

It was strange, standing by Hotch’s bed. This would be the first warm, safe bed she would be falling in to and it wasn’t her own, it was Hotch’s. It felt wrong to touch. It wasn’t hers. Even if he had said she could, it wasn’t hers. This bed belonged to someone else. Hotch’s permission didn’t feel like the only permission she needed.

On the bedside table, there was a picture. Hotch, Jack, and Hayley, all huddled together and smiling. Evelyn felt herself smiling as she looked at it. Reaching out her hand, she ran a finger along the picture frame.

“I hope it’s okay with you,” Evelyn whispered, looking at the picture of Hotch’s late wife.

They’d met a few times in the past and she was just the gentlest woman. She loved Hotch and she loved her son. There she was, staring up at Evelyn and smiling. But the only image that Evelyn had of her in her mind was Hayley’s limp body, the blood that stained her shirt.

Turning away from the picture, Evelyn pulled the blankets back before she kept overthinking. She dropped the bag that Garcia had given her onto the ground, flicked off her shoes and socks, and crawled into bed.

The warmth of the blankets was strange to her. Even her own bed wasn’t as warm as this one was. Still trying not to over think it, Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut and rolled onto her side. She breathed in deeply and was overwhelmed by his scent. With a heavy sigh, she rolled back onto her back and opened her eyes.

“Get over yourself, Evelyn,” she whispered to herself.

Breathing in slowly and steadily, Evelyn let her brain relax. She went to that safe place in her mind, that place far away. She didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep, safe and warm in that room where no one could reach her.

It wasn’t until blood started to seep through the walls that she realized she was asleep.

She woke up to someone screaming. The sound echoed off the walls of the bedroom. Someone was crying.

“Caro. Caro.” Someone was calling her name. Someone close by. Someone far away.

“Evelyn!”

Her eyes snapped open, her heart pounding so hard she thought she might be having a heart attack. The room was still dark, but the bedside lamp was turned on. The blankets were half on the floor. She had been throwing them off when she kicked her legs. Hotch was sitting in front of her. Not just sitting in front of her, but holding onto her shoulders. He had been shaking her. There was worry on his face, his eyes wide. Behind him was Jack, tears rolling down his face.

He was the one who was crying. That must have meant she was the one who was screaming.

“You’re okay,” Hotch said. “You were just dreaming.”

Evelyn lifted her hands to her face to find that there were tears on her cheeks.

“I…I’m sorry,” she said, a scowl in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Hotch shook his head. He looked tired. She must have woken him up.

“Is she okay?” Jack asked and sniffled.

“She’s fine, Jack, go back to bed,” Hotch said. When Jack hesitated, Hotch gave him a smile. “It’s okay. Go back to bed.”

Jack nodded and shuffled out of the room.

“I’m sorry,” Evelyn whispered again, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Hotch said again and dropped a hand onto her knee. “You’re safe here, no one can hurt you here.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….”

Her hands were shaking too badly for her to say anything else. She already couldn’t remember the dream, but there was blood, so much blood. And she remembered she couldn’t breathe, like there was a chain wrapped around her neck.

Evelyn shut her eyes and put her shaking hands up to her head.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said.

Hotch let out a sigh. He was frustrated with her. The thought made tears sting her eyes.

“It’s not your fault.”

Even with her eyes closed, the tears still managed to slide down her cheeks. Hotch reached out his hand and rested it on the back of her neck. The contact only made her tears fall faster. She moved her hands to cover her face, ashamed of her reaction. Hotch pulled her in toward him and the closer she got to him, the harder she started to cry.

He put his other arm around her and she lowered her forehead to his shoulder, the sobs shaking her shoulders. But Hotch held her tight, one hand on the back of the neck, the other on her back.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t sure what she was really sorry for. Sorry for waking him up. Sorry for sleeping in his bed. Sorry for invading his space. Sorry for getting kidnapped. For getting in the way. For making his life harder. For setting them back from work for days.

“It’s okay, Evelyn. It’s okay.”

At the sound of her name, she stopped her apologies. She heard her first name come from his mouth so rarely, she didn’t want to talk over him. She just wanted to hear him say it again. Finally letting her hands fall away from her eyes, she let her hands fall into her lap.  

“It’s not your fault, Evelyn,” he whispered, hesitantly letting his fingers lace through her hair.

She sniffed.

“It wasn’t your fault and none of us are upset with you,” Hotch told her.

Slowly, her breathing started to return to normal, sucking in short, gasping breaths of air, but they were steadier.

He pulled away from her, brushing her damp hair out of her face and resting a hand on her cheek. She wouldn’t look at him, still taking shallow breaths, tears still rolling down her cheeks, body still shaking.

“None of us blame you for any of it,” he told her, leaning down to try and catch her eye. “And there’s nothing that could have ever happened to you or that you could have possibly done that wouldn’t make us come for you.”

He brushed a tear off of her cheek as it slid from her eye.

“Evelyn, look at me.”

It took her a moment, but she finally managed to lift her eyes to meet his. They were wide and terrified, trembling like the rest of her body. Hotch tightened his jaw.

“We’re not going anywhere. I know your last family left you after what happened, but I promise you, we are not going anywhere.” Evelyn let out another shuddered breath and nodded her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It took a few more moments to calm her down and by the time she had stopped crying, her eyes were getting heavy.

“Sleep now,” Hotch said, slowly standing up from the bed. She was still sitting up, her head hanging and her hands in her lap.

“Aaron?” He paused at the door and half turned toward her. “Will you….”

She scowled and cleared her throat, shaking her head.

“What can I do for you?”

She breathed out heavily and looked up at him again.

“Would you stay, here, with me?” She felt stupid, asking.

But he wasn’t looking at her in pity or loathing. He nodded his head before walking to the other side of the bed.

Evelyn laid back onto the pillow, pulling the blankets up to her chin. She closed her eyes, embarrassed to see him, as if her request was ridiculous and gross. But she didn’t think that she could have fallen asleep if she was on her own.

She felt the other side of the bed dip in and the blankets rustle.

“Do you want the light on?” He asked.

“You can turn it off if you’d like.”

The light flickered off and they were shrouded in darkness.

“Goodnight, Evelyn.”

“Night, Aaron.”

___

When Hotch woke up the next morning, the other side of the bed was empty. He got used to the empty bed a long time ago, but there was a pit in his stomach this time. Evelyn should be there. She should be-

There was a smell coming from the kitchen. A pleasant smell.

Sitting up and stretching, Hotch made his way to the bedroom door. He heard laughing coming from the kitchen. When he opened the door, he had a direct line of sight to the kitchen. Jack was already awake, sitting happily at the table. There were usually only two chairs at that table, but Jack had pulled up a third.

Standing in the kitchen with a smile on her face was Evelyn. Jack was saying something to her, barely incoherent through all his laughter. Evelyn was just laughing along with him. Hotch shuffled through the hallway, leaning his shoulder against the corner of the and crossing his arms.

“What is going on here?” He asked with a smile on his face.

Evelyn and Jack both turned to him, both smiling.

“Eggs, bacon, French toast,” Evelyn said. “Want some?”

Hotch couldn’t help the smile on his face. He nodded, walking toward Jack and sitting down at the chair next to him.

It was strange, seeing Evelyn this way. She was generally serious at work, like he was. She would laugh and tease with Morgan and the girls and Reid, but Hotch was so used to her being solid, so stoic, so ready. But here she was, smiling and laughing and making jokes with him.

Evelyn walked over to the table carrying three plates of food and set them onto the table. She sat down, the biggest grin on her face.

“Dig in,” she said.

Hotch and Evelyn both knew that this happiness on her face went only so deep. Her suffering and her pain were just starting to bubble to the surface. But for now, she could eat this breakfast, laugh with Jack, pretend everything was okay.

“Would you like to watch my soccer game today, Evie?” Jack asked as they took the empty plates back to the kitchen.

Evelyn looked over at Hotch, hesitant.

“That would be great, buddy,” she said before looking back at Hotch. “Would you mind?”

“No, of course not.”

Jack’s grin was the brightest Hotch had seen in a long time.

Hotch knew of course about Evelyn’s competitive nature. They had been working together for years. He had seen enough games between her and Morgan to know that she liked to win. He still somehow didn’t expect that much competition to come out of her during his son’s soccer match.

She yelled from the sidelines, cheering for Jack and shouting at the ref and even exchanging glares with other parents. It was hard not to be distracted by her as Hotch tried to coach his team, trying to keep his laughing to a minimum. When the game ended, after Hotch had a word with the players, Jack ran straight for Evelyn. He stopped just in front of her, remembering what his dad had told him about not getting too close, and grinned up at her.

Evelyn put her hand on his head and ruffled his sandy blond hair.

“You were great out there, kid,” she said. “You got the most goals on your team.”

“We, uh, don’t usually keep score,” Hotch said as he walked over.

Evelyn looked up at him with the brightest smile.

“Well, I did and your team did a great job.”

One of the other moms walked over, her daughter and Jack immediately engaging in teasing and chatting about the game as they tried to kick each other in their still guarded shins.

“My name is Mary,” the mother said, reaching a hand out for Evelyn to shake. Evelyn startled, her heart rate spiking at Mary’s sudden movement. She recovered quickly, shaking Mary’s hand.

“Evelyn Caro.”

“Are you and Aaron-“

“We work together,” Hotch said.

Mary nodded her head.

“That explains the….”

She gestured toward Evelyn’s face before pausing and forced a smile.

“Right.”

Evelyn had forgotten how horrible her face must look. She had been absently rolling the scab on her lip between her teeth all day. Her bruised and cut cheek was sore, her other eye throbbing every now and again. The battered shape of her face hadn’t even crossed her mind while she offered to go to Jack’s game.

Evelyn looked over Hotch for assistance. His smile was still there, but thinner.

“Mary, how is your husband?” Hotch asked, clearly trying to direct the attention away from Evelyn. She was grateful for it.

She listened to their conversation with a smile until Jack walked back over to them and grabbed her by the hand. She turned to look at him with a smile. He beckoned for her to bend down and she did. Jack even stood on his toes so he could whisper in her ear.

“Can you ask Daddy if we can get McDonald’s on the way home?” He asked, his voice so quiet that Evelyn barely heard him.

Still, she let out a laugh and straightened her back.

“I can do that.”

Jack grinned and ran back toward his friends. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched him run away. She had met Jack only handful of times in the past, but he was such a light. He meant so much to Aaron that it was impossible for Evelyn not to love him, too. The poor boy had been through so much already.

“What did he want?” Hotch asked.

Evelyn turned back around to find that not only was Mary talking to Hotch, but three other unaccompanied women were hanging around as well. She resisted the urge to tease him about it right there. Teasing Hotch was also something new. She never would have done it before. Their relationship was strictly professional.

“Jack wants to go to McDonald’s on the way home,” Evelyn told Hotch.

“Ah,” Hotch said, his hands on his hips.

“The kids always do,” a blonde mother said, no ounce of amusement in her tone as she glanced at Evelyn.

“I suppose he thought you asking would make the likelihood of me saying yes higher?”

Evelyn shrugged. The other moms stood there, laughing joylessly, but Evelyn didn’t even see them.

They did stop at McDonald’s on the way home. Jack happily sang a song to himself in the backseat, munching on his apple slices and French fries. Evelyn was sitting in the passenger seat with one of her feet propped up on the dash.

“This feels like cheating,” Evelyn sighed, staring at the fries in her hands.

“How?” Hotch asked with a short laugh.

Evelyn shrugged, shoving the fries in her mouth.

“Something about it. They’re too good, I guess. There’s gotta be a downside.”

Hotch opened his mouth to say something but she held up her hand to stop him.

“You don’t have to profile my eating habits, Hotchner,” she said.

Hotch simply laughed.

When they got back from the game, Jack went to take a nap, leaving Evelyn and Hotch alone in the apartment.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited the team over to watch the game this afternoon,” Hotch said.

“Of course I don’t mind,” Evelyn said. “This is still your home.”

“Right.” Hotch nodded his head.

She dropped herself onto the couch, her eyes tired, but she had no desire to sleep, especially if the team was coming over.

But her eyes were beginning to droop against her better judgement. The apartment was quiet, she could barely hear Hotch moving around until there was the soft sound of music flitting through the room.

Hotch sat down at the table, trying to be far enough away from the sleeping woman on his couch to help her feel comfortable. Light music floated through the room as he sat, flipping through a book that he wasn’t really reading. It seemed like every three seconds, his eyes would move from his book to where Evelyn was sleeping. He justified it to himself, trying to tell himself it was just to make sure she wasn’t having another nightmare. Last night had been hard on all of them and he didn’t want a repeat. But there was something else that kept drawing his gaze to her.

She just looked so at peace. Like none of the thousands of terrible things in the world could touch her. Her breathing was short, but steady and there was almost a bit of a smile on her face. His hands were tense around the book, just waiting for her breathing to change to signal to him that she was going to a place in her mind where she didn’t want to be.

He was almost tempted to ask the others to not come to allow Evelyn the chance to sleep. But Hotch thought it was best to allow her the time to socialize with the people she loved. She needed to be surrounded by support at this time and Hotch knew he couldn’t possibly provide enough of it to be any help.

An hour and a half later, fifteen minutes before the others were due to arrive, Hotch walked over to where she slept on the couch. Again, he was tempted to just let her sleep. But he put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a light shake in hopes of rousing her.

“Caro,” he whispered.

She woke with a startled gasp, her eyes snapping open. Hotch was prepared for some kind of emotional response. He was ready in case she needed his help, but after the initial shock of being woken up, she sat up normally. Rubbing her eyes, Evelyn let out a yawn.

“Are they here?” She asked.

“Not yet,” Hotch said. “Soon. I’m going to wake up Jack. Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” There was a little bit of a scowl on her face as she continued to try and wake herself up. “Anything I can do to help get ready?”

Hotch was already halfway to Jack’s room, but he shook his head.

“Everyone else is bringing food. We’re off the hook for this one,” he told her before slipping into Jack’s room.

Evelyn forced herself off the couch, even though her bones were still stiff and tired. She straightened the cushions she slept on before rubbing her eyes again. She didn’t think she had dreamed, which was the first time she hadn’t in a very long time.

She was rubbing tension out of her neck when there was the first knock at the door.

Evelyn started and reached for the gun that should have been there but wasn’t. Her heart pounded in her chest, her hand still on her hip where her gun should have been. She wanted to move, but her muscles felt frozen. Eyes wide and body tense, Evelyn struggled to breathe. There was a tightness in her chest she couldn’t shake.

There was a knock at the door again, but she still couldn’t move.

“Caro, you okay?” Hotch asked as he came back from Jack’s room. “Evelyn?”

He stopped on his way to the door. She saw him standing there, staring at her, but all she could do was watch the door. Her body began to shake ever so slightly from the tension in her muscles.

“It’s just the team, Caro,” Hotch said, slowly putting his hands out toward her. “They’re not going to hurt you.”

Evelyn heard what he was saying, but something in her bones told her that it was a bad guy, someone who wanted to come in and hurt her, hurt Hotch, hurt Jack. She wouldn’t let that happen.

“Caro, I need you to look at me and just breathe,” Hotch was saying, taking a step toward her. There was another knock at the door and she flinched. “Look at me. Breathe.”

Evelyn sucked in one deep breath in through her nose before flickering her watery eyes away from the door and toward Hotch. He titled his head to the side, taking on a non-offensive stance. Her eyes strained to look at him.

“I’m going to open the door, okay?” Evelyn gave a sharp shake of her head, her body jerking forward but her feet not going anywhere. “I’m going to open the door. It’s going to be okay.”

He took a step toward the door and Evelyn shook her head again. Hotch turned away from her and kept walking toward the door.

“Hotch,” Evelyn said, her words just barely above a whisper.

When his hand touched the handle, Evelyn shook her head again, staring at the door unblinking. The door unlocked and the handle turned.

“Hotch-“

The door opened. Evelyn’s eyes widened even further, waiting for Ralph to be standing there on the other side.

But it was just Penelope and JJ and Emily, all grinning wildly.

Evelyn blinked her eyes hard and shook her head, dropping her hands back to her sides and relaxing her defensive stance.

“Come in,” Hotch was saying.

Evelyn forced a smile onto her face and went to greet her friends as they came in. She helped them set up the table with the food and drinks they brought.

“How are you doing?” JJ asked as she tore into the chips.

Evelyn sighed, still trying to smile.

“I’m doing okay,” she said.

“I might not be as good a profiler as any of you guys,” JJ said. “But I know you well enough to know when you’re lying.”

Evelyn turned to face her, leaning her hip against the table and crossing her arms.

“I am doing as well as you can imagine I’m doing,” Evelyn said. “But most of the time I’m doing okay.”

JJ put a hand on her friend’s arm and offered a small smile.

“If you ever need anything-“

“I know you’re always there for me, JJ,” Evelyn said. “I won’t ever forget it.”

JJ nodded and they turned back to the table. It was only a few more minutes before the boys arrived. After greeting Hotch and Emily, Morgan came straight for Evelyn, who was still at the table rearranging everything for the fifteenth time.

“I swear I’m going to lose it if you ask me if I’m okay, Derek Morgan,” Evelyn said, moving the napkins off the plates where she had just put them.

Morgan let out his signature laugh before throwing an arm over her shoulders.

“I know how you’re doing, so I don’t need to ask,” Morgan told her. “I just came over here to give you a hug.”

Evelyn let out a breath and turned toward him, eagerly putting her arms around his waist. There was safety in his arms. Her muscles were still tense from her moment before, and it felt impossible for her to relax and fall into normalcy with her friends. But with Morgan there, everything seemed to be at least a little bit okay.

“Keep fighting,” he whispered in her ear. “That’s how you win.”

Evelyn nodded her head. She pulled away and quickly swiped away a stray tear before wiping her hands on her jeans. She back at Morgan briefly with a strained smile, glad to see him smiling back.

“Let’s go sit,” Morgan said to her.

Evelyn sat herself on the very end of the couch, knowing how much her team loved to cram in together and not really feeling comfortable being stuck in between Morgan and JJ as they shouted back and forth at each other about their opposing sports opinions. She sat with her feet up on the couch and her knees pulled up to her chest.

Reid sat next to her, still and quiet.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey, Reid.”

He didn’t say anything else. Evelyn didn’t really want him to. Still, she leaned toward him and put her head on his shoulder. Reid tensed for a moment, but then he relaxed.

“It’s good to have you back,” he whispered to her.

“It’s good to be back,” she whispered back.

A few minutes before the game had started, there was already yelling going on between Rossi and JJ about something Evelyn couldn’t really follow. Jack came out of his room, hair a mess and eyes looking tired.

“Hey, buddy!” Hotch said. “Come for some food?”

The newly awake Jack shook his head and hobbled over to Evelyn. She dropped her feet to the ground as he struggled to crawl into her lap. He dropped his head to her shoulder.

“You okay, kid?” she asked him, rubbing her hand up and down his back. He nodded and yawned.

A chip flew over her head that Morgan had definitely thrown at Rossi who sat in the chair next to Evelyn. Penelope was watching the commercials eagerly, shouting at everyone to quiet down. JJ had roped Emily into her argument with Rossi and Reid was telling Morgan something about some sports statistic that Morgan was desperately trying to refute.

Evelyn looked over at Hotch, who was watching them with a look in his eye that she couldn’t really read. She was usually good at reading Hotch, but every now and again, he’d get this look that she didn’t understand. When he noticed her looking, he gave her a smile and nodded his head.

Part way through the game, Jack left her lap to go and grab some food. She offered him her seat when he came back so that she could go over to the table for some food and a breather. Hotch met her there, scooping cheese dip onto his paper plate.

“Intense game,” Evelyn said, popping a grape into her mouth.

“Very.”

“Oh, come on!” Morgan yelled.

Evelyn laughed quietly to herself.

“If you need to step out-“

“I’m fine, Hotch, really,” she said, turning toward him. “Everything’s good. What happened earlier-“

“Was a completely normal reaction.” Evelyn was startled by his rebuttal interruption. “You’re allowed to have bad moments or even bad days.”

“I know that.”

“You’re also allowed to have fun.”

“I know that, too.”

Morgan stood up quickly from the couch, letting out half a expletive before remembering Jack was there and switching it up half way through.

“I really missed this, though,” Evelyn said through a laugh.

Hotch looked at her and then looked over at Morgan and let out a sigh.

“He was really worried about you,” Hotch told her, his hands tightening around the poor paper plate in his hand.

Evelyn nodded her head, looking down at the grapes in her hand.

“I thought I’d never see him again. I thought I’d never see any of you again,” she told him.

“You didn’t think we’d find you?”

“Oh, I knew you would,” she looked back over at him. “I just didn’t know if it would be soon enough.”

“Evelyn-“

“Evie, come look at this!” Penelope called, waving her over.

“Pardon me, Hotch.”

Hotch watched her walk away and kneel on the ground beside Garcia. They laughed about something. Smiling looked good on her, but he knew that it only ran so deep. He couldn’t wait for the day that smile would be real again. He just hoped he was there to see it.

By the time everyone left, the sun was almost down. They stayed long after the game, talking and laughing and throwing things at each other like a bunch of children. Penelope was the last to go, always asking for one last hug while Morgan waited for her just outside.

“I’ll see you soon, Pen,” Evelyn laughed, trying to push her friend toward the door.

“I hate leaving you,” Penelope said.

“I think I’m in the safest hands I can be.”

Penelope pulled away at that.

“You’re right.” She looked over at Hotch. “Hotch won’t let anything happen to you. You’re perfectly safe here.”

Evelyn gave her a smile.

“Exactly. Now, go. Morgan’s waiting for you.”

Penelope straightened her jacket and nodded her head.

“Right.” She turned and walked out the door. “Let’s go, Derek.”

Morgan offered one last wave, tossing an arm over Penelope’s shoulders. He sent a look Evelyn’s way that she read perfectly. If she needed anything….

Hotch shut the door and the apartment was silent. Evelyn let out a heavy breath.

“That was fun,” Jack said, laying on the couch.

“Time for bed for you, buddy,” Hotch said.

The team was generally good at cleaning up after themselves and taking the food that they had brought with them, but there was always a mess to clean up afterward. The few times Evelyn had one of these gatherings at her own place taught her this well enough. Hotch walked Jack toward his room while Evelyn turned to start cleaning.

“You don’t have to do that,” Hotch said, emerging from his son’s room as Evelyn pulled the full trash bag out of the trash can.

“I won’t be able to sleep knowing this place is a mess,” she told him.

It was these quiet moments when it was just the two of them that Evelyn felt the most exposed, the most terrified. Not that he would hurt her because she knew he never would, but just knowing that all of his attention was on her made her almost sick to her stomach.

“I’ll take the trash to the can outside,” Hotch said, walking toward her.

“Alright.”

She handed the bag off to him, his fingers just barely grazing over her hand. Evelyn elected not to look up at him as electricity crackled up her arm. She breathed in deeply and turned toward the couch.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said. He took a few steps away from her and Evelyn just nodded her head.

She didn’t look at him as he left the room. With a pounding heart, Evelyn sat slowly onto the couch, shutting her eyes and breathing deeply until she dropped her head into her hands.

What was wrong with her? She had always been able to keep her emotions under control around Hotch. Always. Even when he was talking about Hayley, even when he cared so deeply about people it made him rage, even when he did that thing with his eyes that silenced even the haughtiest narcissist, even when he gave her a look that put all other looks to shame. She had always kept her cool because that was what she had trained herself to do.

But now her training was backfiring on her. Her training was making her think danger was there when it wasn’t. Her training was making her question the movements of everyone she loved. Her training was taking her sleep from her. Her training was crumbling and slowly revealing that terrified girl that lay underneath.

Evelyn opened her eyes, hoping to think of absolutely anything else than the heat in her cheeks and the pounding of her heart in her stomach.

Maybe keeping her eyes closed may have been better because as soon as her eyes were open, they landed on Hotch’s bag propped up against the coffee table. Someone must have moved it during the game. Sticking out of the top was a file. There was no name on the file, but Evelyn knew it was hers, or at least from the last job they’d done, which was hers.

Instinct took over and she bent down, snatching the yellow folding from his bag. It was thick, thicker than she’d have liked. Laying it on the table, her suspicions were confirmed as she flipped open the first page. It was this last case and the very first picture on it was the one they took in the hospital when she first arrived.

Evelyn didn’t realize how terrible she looked until just then. She was thin, trembling. Her hair was matted with blood. She looked dirty, covered in blood and bruises. Evelyn gagged, covering her mouth with her hand. That was how all of her friends had seen her that day. The thought made her shiver.

The picture just underneath it was the one they had taken when she was a kid. The similarities in the pictures made her even sicker.

She shuffled through the files, eyes scanning the pages just like Reid had taught her, until she found Hotch’s report.

She pulled it out, hands shaking as she held it in front of her. She had always wondered how Hotch managed to write these reports, summing up everything they went through during the case in just a few short pages.

Her throat swelled as she read through the beginning. She read about the women Ralph killed, how they were assaulted and murdered, how the team discovered it was Ralph. She read through them deciding to send Evelyn into the meeting to find Ralph and lure him in. She didn’t know then that he was the step kid of her uncle. If she had, she wouldn’t have gone in there empty handed.

Then she read how they had found out she was missing and what they did to find her. Her heart plummeted into her stomach, dropping from her chest like a ton of rocks. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth, hoping swallow the sob that was threatening to come from her mouth. Sitting in that attic, Evelyn had wondered what the point of killing those other women was. She had spent hours pouring over ideas. She thought him running into her was an accident, pure coincidence. This case already put her on edge, seeing as it took place in the very same town she grew up in.

But the team had solved it. They had figured it out. All those women that Ralph had killed….

Tears clouded her vision, but she refused to blink. A quiet moan of distress came from her. She didn’t even hear the door of the apartment open.

“Evelyn?”

She didn’t jump at the sound of Hotch’s voice. Instead, she turned toward him slowly, those same tears gathered in her eyes.

“It’s my fault,” she said, holding the report in her hands. The tears dropped from her lashes, hitting her cheeks with the strength of a butterfly.  

“It’s not.”

“It is!” Hotch let out a defeated breath. “It says right here that-“

“That report says Ralph Bennet made the decision to assault and murder those four women.”

“Because of me!”

Hotch walked over to her and sat on the couch beside her, but not too close.

“Did you kill those women, Caro?”

“No, but-“

“No, you didn’t.”

“Hotch, he killed them because I knew them. He killed them because he knew it would lure me in. If I hadn’t-“

“What? If you hadn’t what?” She was quiet. “If you hadn’t killed your uncle? You did what you had to do to survive, Evelyn. No one will fault you for that.”

“If I hadn’t….” she trailed off, staring at the paper with her teary eyes.

“If you hadn’t come with us to solve this case? More women would have died.”

“I fell right into his trap,” she whispered, her hands tightening around the paper. “I didn’t even know he existed, and he knew me well enough to set the trap and just wait for me to walk right into it. I can’t believe I was that stupid.”

“Do you want to know what that tells me?”

She looked up at him.

“You returned to a town where you had been traumatized to help bring justice to these women. You went into that meeting trying to catch a killer. You stayed alive long enough for us to find you using clues that you gave us.” Evelyn sniffed, wiping the underside of her nose with the back of her hand. “You’re not stupid, Evelyn. You’re the bravest person I have ever met.”

She looked over at Hotch again, her lower lip trembling.

“They died for me,” she said and took in a shaky breath. A tear slid down her nose. “How do I repay them for that?”

Hotch was quiet for a moment and heaved out a sigh, just allowing him time to think of a proper answer.

“You live,” he told her. “You survive this and carry on for them.”

Evelyn closed her eyes. She was hearing him and her brain was telling her that he was right, but her heart wasn’t believing him. She couldn’t believe him.

Without saying anything, Evelyn pushed herself off the couch and made for the door, hoping to escape before he could see the tears that were threatening to run from her eyes again.

“Caro, where are you going?” Hotch asked, standing after her.

“I need some air,” she replied as she struggled with the lock on the door.

“I’ll come with you.”

“I need to be alone right now,” she said, finally getting the door open.

Hotch put his hand on the door and pushed it shut. Evelyn froze, keeping her hand on the doorknob.

“You’re not going anywhere by yourself.”

Evelyn turned around slowly. Hotch was looming over her, his hand still on the door to keep her from opening it again.

“Let me out, Hotch.”

“You’re not a prisoner here, but you’re not going out there alone.”

She stared at Hotch unblinkingly. Evelyn’s breathing started to speed up, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but it wasn’t anger or fear that made her heart rate spike.

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not?”

Evelyn knew she was poking the bear, but she felt like she had to. Poke the bear yourself, make it roar on your terms before it decides to do it itself.

“Why can’t I go out there alone? You think I can’t handle myself?”

“No, I know you can-“

“Then why won’t you let me leave?”

“Because I want you to be safe.”

The calmness of his voice made her even angrier. It made her want to poke harder.

There was a gaping wound in her soul and it was still gushing blood. Hotch was trying to patch it up, help her to heal, but he was getting too close to the only thing that kept her breathing. He was getting too close to the wound and she was terrified of the idea of him seeing her, feeling her, so she recoiled. She would snap at him until he left her alone. Until he left her wound bleed in peace.

“Why did you come for me?”

“Why did we come for you?” Hotch repeated, astounded by her question. “You’re part of the team. Why wouldn’t we come for you?”

“I’m not asking about the team, Aaron. I’m asking about you.”

Hotch straightened at the sound of his first name. She knew why. She’d done it on purpose. She needed to convince him she was angry. That was the only way to keep him at bay.

“I couldn’t just let you rot there; the team needs you.”

“The team?” She let out a bitter laugh before pushing past him and stalking into the middle of the room. “It’s always about the team with you, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“I could have died in that house, Aaron, and all you can come up with is the team needed me and that’s why you came?”

She hated the taste her words left in her mouth. She hated saying them. But she had to. She had to push him away if she had any hope for surviving. She had tied her heart to his and if she didn’t severe it now….

There was real anger in his eyes at her words. Finally, an emotion. A chink in his armor.

“If you had died in that house, I would have killed that bastard myself!”

Evelyn sucked in a sharp breath. It was so rare to see an emotion on Aaron Hotchner. In the last few days alone, she had seen more from him than she had ever seen in all her years working with him; fear, joy, grief, anger, relief. And it was mostly because of her.

“Enough with the team needs me bullshit.” Evelyn dropped the tone of her voice. “I’m going for a walk.”

She turned her back on him and walked toward the front door. She made it all the way there, her hand on the doorknob before Hotch spoke again.

“I need you.”

Evelyn froze, her hand glued to the doorknob as if it was ice and her hand was burning hot. Her blood ran cold and her heart stopped in her chest.

“What?”

“You don’t accept that you’re a vital member of the team as a worthy reason for us to come and help you? Fine.” There it was again, anger in Hotch’s voice. His dark eyebrows were pulled together. “I need you.”

Evelyn had started this argument because she needed to keep his hands away from the wound she was nursing, the wound that every breath seemed to tear open a little bit more. His kindness and compassion were just insult to injury. But his sincerity in this moment punched through every wall around her wound that she had been attempting to build up in the last few minutes.

He said it like he would say any other truth. He said it like he would say anything during a case; without a hint of uncertainty.

She turned toward him. For the first time in a while, she felt no shame as tears glimmered in her eyes.

“You mean it?” She asked, pulling on the edges of her sleeve.

“Have I ever lied to you before?”

“I mean when, Emily-“ Evelyn stopped herself and cleared her throat. “No. You haven’t.”

Hotch stood there, clearly not wanting to say anything else that would set her off. Evelyn bowed her head, let her hand fall away from the doorknob, and she crossed the room, putting her arms around his waist before he even realized that she was coming toward him.

Hotch was frozen for a second, her change in mood so rapid that he almost couldn’t register it. Evelyn’s eyes were screwed shut as she prayed that he wouldn’t reject her embrace, though she could understand if he did. But, eventually, he put his arms around her, pulling her in closer and she could finally relax.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, letting the tears stream down her face, fast and hot. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” he told her, his words just as quiet.

“Please don’t give up on me.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m trying.”

Hotch knew from the report what happened with her parents after she had escaped from her uncle. He knew how they turned their back on her in the following months. She had come back to them after four years, after killing her father’s brother, and she wasn’t the little girl they had lost anymore. They reported anger issues, lashing out, screaming and hitting and breaking things. They told authorities they couldn’t handle her anymore. They just didn’t know what to do.

But Hotch also knew that she was a child who was cut so deeply by someone she trusted and that she deserved to be loved and protected by her family no matter what. No matter how loudly she screamed, no matter the mess she made, they should have loved her. They should have fought for her just as hard as she was fighting to survive. He wouldn’t abandon her like they did.

“I promise not to give up on you if you promise me not to give up on yourself,” he told her.

Evelyn nodded her head.

“Promise,” she said.

___

The following months were hard. Moving back into her own apartment where it was quiet and the silence was deafening was the hardest part. When there was no one to wake her from her nightmares or hold her while she cried, when there was no Jack to make her laugh even when she wanted to cry, when there was just her and the mirror. She hated being back home. She wanted to back at the Hotchner’s, but she knew she couldn’t impose on them any longer.

There were days when her promise to Hotch was the only thing that kept her going. He had made her promise not to give up on herself and she would be damned before she disappointed Hotch again. So, she fought, tooth and nail, just to stay afloat. Some days, that looked like lying in bed and letting the tears fall. Some days, that looked like calling Morgan or Penelope and asking them to play a board game with her. Some days, that looked like running until she couldn’t breathe. Some days, that looked like dancing around her apartment at 3 am.

Slowly, she began to remember what it was like to feel alive. And she started to love it again.

The day she came back to work, the smile on her face reached deep into that wound in her soul. It wasn’t healed, but it was better. It didn’t hurt to breathe anymore.

The team acted like she knew they would on her first case. Hotch didn’t let her go anywhere by herself. Someone had to be by her side at all times. It was suffocating, but she knew it was for the best.

By the time the case was finished and the guy arrested, Evelyn almost felt like herself again. This is what she was meant to be doing. She wasn’t supposed to be sitting by herself in her room all day, wasting away. The field was in her blood. It was part of her.

They all went out to dinner that night and everything was right in the world again. Evelyn used to sit in her apartment, Hotch and Morgan and Garcia sending her updates as they went. She knew when she got the triple text that the case was over that they’d be going out to eat, celebrating, having a laugh to cope with everything they had seen. And she would sit in her dark apartment.

But now she was in the right place. They went to a pub downtown. She ordered fries and a coke with a little cherry on top. Morgan made fun of her for smothering her fries in ketchup. She stole a bite of Emily’s pasta as she talked to Rossi. Life had returned to normal, and it was just what she needed.

The next few cases went the same way. Hotch began to trust her being alone again, allowing her to have the space she needed to do her job. There were cases where she needed to step into the bathroom and cry. There were times when she stayed behind with the local police because she couldn’t even think about going in without panicking. And the nights in her apartment alone were the worst.

But as long as she was on a case with her team, things were actually okay. She could push away her fear and the anxiety that made her bones rattle and her muscles freeze. She could go back to be Agent Evelyn Caro, where she was at her best.

Almost a year passed. Evelyn knew that the anniversary fear was a thing, but she was determined to be fine. The case they came in for was the farthest away from anything that could remind her of what she went through. Men were being taken and killed. The pattern was easy to solve, the profile quick to figure out. Everything was going to be okay.

Until Hotch and Evelyn were hunting the killer on their own. Evelyn was walking through a suspect’s house with her gun drawn, knowing that Hotch was upstairs doing the same thing. There was a thud coming from the second floor.

“Hotch?” Evelyn called out. “You okay?”

There was no reply. Her heart started to seize.

“Hotch?”

Walking toward the stairs, her gun drawn, Evelyn told herself to breathe. She would be no help to Hotch if she was panicking. She took one step up the stairs before a sudden and sharp pain exploded against the side of her head, sending her into the wall, knocking her unconscious.

When Evelyn woke up, she was in a basement. Her head squeezed and ached, jaw stiff. She shook her head and forced her eyes open.

Sitting across the room from her, still unconscious, was her boss.

“Hotch!”

Evelyn scrambled over to him, barely standing at all before she dropped to the ground next to him.

“Hotch, hey, you good?”

She saw him breathing, so that was something, but he was unresponsive to her voice. She shook his shoulders, but still he slept.

“Please don’t fire me,” Evelyn whispered before pulling her hand back and slapping him across the face.

Hotch gasped and his eyes flew open, his body falling over to the side.

“Oh, thank God,” Evelyn breathed.

“Did you slap me?” Hotch asked her, sitting back up.

“You wouldn’t wake up.”

“So you slapped me?”

Evelyn shrugged as Hotch rubbed his jaw with his hand.

“Remind me to never piss you off,” he told her. Evelyn felt herself almost smile. “Where are we?”

Evelyn looked around the basement and let out a heavy breath.

“Not sure,” she said. “We got the profile wrong, didn’t we?”

Hotch nodded his head and used the support beam in the middle of the room to push himself upward.

“There was a woman. I thought she was hurt, but….”

“She got the drop on the mighty Aaron Hotchner? I’m impressed.” Evelyn teased, needed to joke about something before her brain exploded from the pain or the panic she felt growing in her bones took over completely.

Hotch looked down at Evelyn with a stern look that told her maybe joking wasn’t his favorite way to cope with being kidnapped. Evelyn pursed her lips and pushed herself onto her feet.

“Lions got me, I think,” Evelyn told him, using the support beam to keep her standing.

“So there are two of them and one of them is a woman.” Hotch breathed out a sigh. “How does that change the profile?”

“We know that the men were chosen because Lions wanted something they had.”

“Position, status, money-“

“A certain woman.”

Hotch turned to look at Evelyn, who was scanning the basement as if it would hold the answers. There were blood stains on the ground. This was definitely where the victims were killed. There was a door at the top of the stairs, but if these guys were any good at what they did, the door would be locked.

“You think his partner could have been the wife of one of the victims?” Hotch asked.

Evelyn looked back at him and shrugged.

“A wife, a girlfriend, a sister, a daughter. Maybe the person he wants to take her from isn’t even dead yet, but he’s the reason Lions is killing.”

“Why would she help him?”

Evelyn breathed out again.

“Maybe she feels trapped where she’s at and he’s got her convinced this is the only way to save her? If she feels completely dependent on him, she might just do whatever he says.”

“Even kill?”

Evelyn shrugged her shoulders again, but they both knew that the answer was yes. A woman caught in a corner was just as capable of killing as anyone else.

“Well, that’s good then,” Hotch said, putting his hands on his hips.

“How is any of that good?”

“It means I’m the one they want, not you,” Hotch said.

Evelyn’s eyebrows pinched together.

“That really doesn’t sound good, Hotch.”

“You can get through to the partner, Caro,” Hotch said, walking back toward her. Evelyn narrowed her eyes even further at him.

“Maybe, yes.”

“Good. That will get us out of here.”

He turned away from her again. He pulled off his blazer and loosened his tie and the temperature in the room raised about fourteen degrees. Evelyn had to shake away her imagination before responding.

“And what are you going to do?”

“What they brought me here for.”

___

“Please, stop!”

The female unsub, Rosalie, held tight to Evelyn’s arms, holding her back as the male unsub, Jeremy Lions, pounded his fist into Hotch’s face.

“You think you’re so strong,” Hotch laughed, taunting Lions. “Don’t you?”

Lions hit Hotch in the face again.

“You have to stop him,” Evelyn said to Rosalie. “No one else can get through to him.”

“He’s doing what he has to to keep us safe,” Rosalie whispered to Evelyn, but despite the strength in her arms, her voice was weak. “Your friend just needs to give in. It’ll be easier that way.”

Lions hit Hotch again and Evelyn cried out, pulling against Rosalie.

“Shut her up, Rose!”

“Shh, shh,” Rosalie whispered in Evelyn’s ear, holding her right from behind. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“No!” Evelyn struggled against the woman holding her, jerking her shoulders in hopes of breaking free.

“You really think that any of this will earn you manhood, Lions?” Hotch said with a laugh, turning the unsub’s gaze back onto him and away from Evelyn.

Lions hit Hotch in the face again.

“Stop it, damnit!”

Lions whirled around and backhanded Evelyn in attempts to get her to quiet down. Rosalie gasped and let Evelyn fall to the ground.

“Jeremy! You said we wouldn’t hurt her!”

Lions let out a growl and grabbed onto Rosalie’s arm, dragging her out of the basement and leaving Hotch and Evelyn behind.

“You need to get through to Rosalie, Caro,” Hotch said as soon as she took a single step toward him.

“I am,” she huffed. Hotch raised an eyebrow at her. “She doesn’t want me to get hurt, that much is clear. If she associates you getting hurt with me getting hurt, she’ll push for Lions to hurt you less.”

Hotch nodded his head once, stretching out his jaw.

“You trust me, right?” Hotch said.

“Of course.” Evelyn’s response was immediate.

“Good.”

That night, they slept in the basement on opposite sides of the room, even though it was freezing cold. Saying they slept was an over exaggeration. Evelyn could barely even close her eyes. It was the cold that kept her eyes frozen open, but it was also the reality of it all. She was trapped, once again. She was a prisoner, once again. She was at the mercy of a man, once again.

And Hotch was here but she had never felt more alone.

The door creaked open and Evelyn sat up with a gasp. She shuffled backward, away from the door, but it was just Rosalie walking down the wooden stairs. The woman locked the door behind her, but still flinched.

“Hi,” Rosalie whispered as she neared. There was a cup and a plate in her hand. She watched the sleeping Hotch as she walked by, only turning her attention back to Evelyn once she passed him.

“Hi,” Evelyn whispered back, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“I…I’m not going to hurt you,” Rosalie said. She lowered herself to the ground a few feet away from her. Rosalie set the cup and the plate down and scooted it closer to Evelyn.

Evelyn looked between the food and the woman.

“You need to eat.” Rosalie’s voice was soft. Kindly.

Evelyn straightened her back and lifted her chin, giving a slight shake of the head.

“I’m not hungry.”

Rosalie let out a sigh and turned to look over at Hotch, who still slept soundly.

“Saving it for him won’t do anything for either of you,” Rosalie said, almost sadly. “Only one of you is making it out of here. I think you know which one it’s going to be.”

___

“Here, eat.” Evelyn pushed the plate of cold potatoes and toast in his direction, the cup of water sitting on top. Hotch raised an eyebrow at her. “Rosalie came in last night. Brought us some food.”

“Did you eat?” He asked her, sitting up from his sleeping position.

Evelyn nodded her head.

“Caro-“

“I ate, Hotch,” she said, a little more harshly than she meant to. “You need to keep your strength if we’re going to have a repeat of yesterday.”

Hotch almost laughed as he hooked his finger over the edge of the plate and slid it toward himself. Evelyn watched, her stomach gurgling as he took a bite out of the bread.

“Stale toast is just ravishing, isn’t it?” Evelyn asked as she leaned up against the wall he also sat against. Hotch hummed his response. He ate slowly, took a sip of water.

“How are you?” He asked.

Evelyn rolled her head against the wall to look over at him.

“Just peachy, Hotchner. How are you?”

“I’m serious. How are you doing?”

Evelyn let out a sigh, looked up at the ceiling, and closed her eyes.

“Taking it one breath at a time,” she said. “I’ll deal with the aftermath once we’re out of here.”

Evelyn looked over at him again and attempted a half-cocked smile. Hotch wasn’t smiling. He was staring at her, staring right through her smile and her outer shell of calmness and straight into her soul where her wound was, her wound that was slowly starting to heal.

“I’ll be okay, Aaron,” she said, dropping her smile. “Promise.”

Hotch nodded his head and turned away from her.

“Don’t do anything stupid today, Caro,” he told her.

“Do I ever?”

___

“I told you not to do anything stupid,” Hotch sighed as Evelyn let out a hiss of pain.

“I didn’t realize that trying to stop you from dying was considered something stupid.”

“It is when you get put in harm’s way.”

Evelyn held a strip of her shirt against her bleeding nose. Hotch rolled up his sleeves.

“We’ve got two days left here,” Hotch said, pacing back and forth in front of Evelyn.

“The team will find us,” Evelyn replied. She lowered the piece of her shirt and scrunched her nose before stretching it out again.

“I don’t doubt it.”

The sun went down sooner than Evelyn thought it would, meaning she had slept longer than she thought she had.

“You should sleep,” Hotch said.

“I’m not tired.”

“He won’t hurt you, Caro.”

The dark concealed Hotch’s face from her, even though he was only a few feet away. Evelyn shifted uncomfortably.

“I know.”

“If I don’t make it out of here-“

“Hotch, stop. We’re both going to walk out of here just fine.”

“But if I don’t, promise to take care of Jack.” Evelyn breathed in deeply, ready to shake her head and tell him again that they were going to both survive this. “Promise me.”

Instead of arguing, which she knew would get them nowhere, Evelyn nodded her head.

“I promise.”

Hotch didn’t say anything else. Evelyn didn’t sleep. The change in his breathing after a while told her that he had fallen asleep.

She didn’t know how long it was before the door creaked open. Evelyn startled and sat up straighter, gasping in a breath. But it was just Rosalie, coming down with more food. This time, she didn’t say anything. She sat right next to Evelyn and set the food between them.

“You have to eat,” she said finally.

Evelyn reached out and took the cup of water and brought it to her parched lips. She drank some, but set it down before it was finished.

“You don’t have to save it for him.”

Evelyn turned her head to look at Rosalie.

“He’s my friend. I’m not going to let him starve.”

Rosalie was quiet for a moment.

“I think he’s more than that.”

“How did you meet Jeremy?” Evelyn asked. She thought she saw a smile on Rosalie’s lips.

“I lived with my brother and his wife as their live-in nanny of sorts. Jeremy worked for them as a gardener. My father kept me locked up my entire life and when he died, my brother took over. His sister’s keeper or something. But Jeremy he…. he made me feel free and alive and seen. And so, so loved.”

Rosalie stopped there, her smile lingering for a few moments before falling.

“But he changed, didn’t he?”

Rosalie nodded her head slowly, her lower lip curling and tears starting to run down her cheeks. Evelyn just let her cry for a few moments, until the woman collected herself. She sucked in a sob and stuffed her hands full of her dress.

“He took me from my brother’s house, brought me here,” Rosalie said. “Said he needed my help.”

“He used you to lure in men that he saw as superior to himself so that he could kill them.”

Rosalie nodded again, tears still rolling from her eyes.

“I never wanted to…I tried to tell him that I love him as he is…that he doesn’t need to-“

“Rosalie, listen to me. Nothing you could ever do will convince him of that because his issues have nothing to do with you,” Evelyn said, turning to face her.

“I don’t….”

“Jeremy Lions may love you, Rosalie, but he is very sick. He is not killing people to be a better man for you, no matter what he has told you. He feels inferior so he thinks he has to kill to be superior. That’s why he wanted Hotch.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

Evelyn heaved out a breath.

“Hotchner is everything Jeremy thinks he’s lacking. Confident, strong. He’s got a high-ranking job. He’s respected by his peers. He’s good looking and has a nice home and great friends. Jeremy doesn’t think he has any of this and he wants it, which is why he wants to hurt Hotchner.”

“To take something he doesn’t think he has.”

Evelyn sucked in a breath and reached forward to take Rosalie’s hands in hers.

“No matter what you do, Rosalie, you will never be enough for him, do you understand? He has you, he has love, but that will never be enough for him.”

“No, no!” Rosalie stood up quickly. “No. Once we’re married, everything will be okay. We’ll buy a new house. Live a happy life.”

“Rosalie-“

“No! You’re wrong.”

“Rosalie….”

“You’re wrong!”

Rosalie hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Evelyn shut her eyes again. With a growl, she pounded her knuckles into the hard concrete ground.

“You okay?”

Hotch was barely awake, his voice gravelly and tired.

“I’m okay, Hotch, go back to sleep.”

He grumbled something and was soon asleep again. Evelyn could do nothing but sigh. Still, she didn’t sleep.

The next day went no better than the last. It was night again before Evelyn knew it. She sat on the ground, head between her knees. Hotch stood, leaning up against the support beam in the middle of the room.

“You’re not sleeping,” he said. Evelyn didn’t move. “Talk to me.”

“I told you, I’ll deal with it after we get out of here,” she told him, her words muffled by her knees.

Hotch walked toward her and let out a groan as he lowered himself to the ground.

“You can sleep,” he told her, his words even quieter than they were before. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

Evelyn lifted her head finally to look at him.

“That’s not why I’m not sleeping,” she said, which was partially a lie. She didn’t sleep because she needed to be aware at all times. She couldn’t risk nodding off and letting her guard down. But there was another part to it.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked her.

“I thought I was going to die alone in that house, Aaron.” Her voice was thick with tears. “Twice. I stay awake because I can’t stand the thought of dying alone. And if you die while I’m sleeping-“

Hotch reached out and took her hand in his. When she looked over at him, he was staring straight ahead, not looking at her. She let out a shaky sigh and let him lace his fingers through hers. It was all the comfort that she needed.

“You’re not going to die alone,” Hotch told her. “You’re not going to die here at all.”

Evelyn nodded and let a few of the tears in her eyes fall, grateful for the darkness to cover her face. She lowered her head slowly to his shoulder, damning all protocol to hell, if there even was protocol for maybe dying in a basement with your boss. When Hotch didn’t immediately pull away from her or shake her off his shoulder, she settled in and shut her eyes.

“You’re not dying here either,” she said. “Not if I can help it.”

For the first time in days, Evelyn slept.

She awoke to someone grabbing hold of her hand. Her first thought was that it was Hotch squeezing her in his sleep. But when she gasped and opened her eyes, she found that it was just Rosalie sitting in front of her. It was still dark outside. She thought that the woman had brought her more food, but she turned out to be wrong.

“We have to go,” Rosalie whispered. “We have to go.”

“What?”

“Shh, shh,” Rosalie put a shaking finger to her lips and pulled on Evelyn’s hand. “You were right. We have to go now.”

Rosalie pulled Evelyn to her feet, dragging her toward the door before she was even fully awake.

“Wait, stop,” Evelyn whispered, trying to shake herself awake.

“No, now! This is the only chance you have.”

Rosalie dragged Evelyn out of the basement doors and up the stairs into the house above. It wasn’t the same house that Hotch and Evelyn had been searching before, she could tell that even in the dark.

“Where are you taking me, Rosalie?”

“You have to get out of here, now! Jeremy doesn’t want to kill you, but he will,” Rosalie said, pulling her through the rundown and dirty home.

“Stop. Stop!” Evelyn dug her heels into the ground and forced Rosalie to stop. “I’m not leaving Aaron.”

“You don’t have time!” There was nothing but pure desperation in Rosalie’s voice. “Jeremy knows I left. He’s coming here. You have to go now or you’re not going at all.”

Evelyn wrenched her arm out of Rosalie’s grip.

“I’m not leaving him.”

“Jeremy will kill you.” Rosalie sounded desperate, terrified.

Evelyn shook her head and took a step backward.

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving him.” Rosalie’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Go. Call the police. Tell them where we are.”

Rosalie nodded her head.

“Go.”

Without another word, Rosalie turned around and ran from the house.

Evelyn watched her go. Her heart rate spiked when headlights flashed through the front window. All she could do for Rosalie was hope that she found some place to hide until Lions entered the house. If Lions was here, this was it. He was coming for Hotch.

Evelyn ran back to the basement as quietly as she could. She shut the basement door, hearing it lock with a heart wrenching click, just as the front door opened. She hurried down the stairs and dropped to the ground next to Hotch, startling him awake.

“What’s going on?” Hotch asked, still sounding stuck in sleep.

“Lions is here,” Evelyn whispered to him. “Rosalie is gone, she’s calling the police.”

“How-“

“We need a plan and quick,” Evelyn told him.

“We don’t know how long it will take for the police to respond,” Hotch replied quietly, his voice surprisingly calm. This might be his last few moments on earth, and he wasn’t terrified or angry or anxious. He was just calm. “All of his attention will be on me. You can escape then.”

She shook her head.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“This isn’t a time for heroics.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

Before Hotch could argue, Evelyn pushed herself to her feet.

“What are you doing?” Hotch asked, standing after her.

“Like you said, Lions’ attention will all be on you. He won’t be expecting me.”

“Caro-“

She sunk into the shadows just as the door of the basement opened. Lions trudged down the stairs, grumbling to himself.

At the bottom of the stairs, he turned toward Hotch.

“Where’s the girl?” Lions asked, his voice low and gruff.

Hotch was silent.

“Doesn’t matter,” the unsub grumbled to himself. With his back to her completely, Lions started for Hotch. Evelyn would make sure he never reached him.

She crept out from her shadows, walking toward Lions. The ever present ache in her head from when Lions knocked her out didn’t even stop her. She was silent as she moved until she was right up behind him. In one quick motion, Evelyn kicked the back of his knee, dropping him to the ground before wrapping her arm around his neck.

Lions struggled against Evelyn. He was strong and she was weak from days with little food and water as well as the head injury. But she held on as tight to his neck as she could.

Hotch ran to check the basement door, but Lions had closed it, leaving it locked.

As he did so, Evelyn was so focused on keeping her grip on Lions, that she didn’t see his hand moving toward his pocket. He pulled out a knife and rammed it into her shin. She cried out, falling back and away from Lions.

“Evelyn!”

Hotch turned away from the door and ran back toward her as Lions stumbled away. Evelyn fell back against the support beam, lowering herself to the ground as she pressed her hands against the cut on her leg.

Hotch ran toward Evelyn, but Lions intercepted him. Fire spread throughout Evelyn’s leg, dark blood seeping through her fingers. She clenched her jaw in hopes of easing the pain. Hotch and Lions tumbled, a blur of bodies that Evelyn once again couldn’t distinguish. This scene was all too familiar to her.

Hotch was trained, but he was weak. Lions relied mostly on his size and strength, but lacked any formal training. Evelyn needed to get back into the fight, that was the only way Hotch would win this.

With a groan of effort and a sharp stabbing pain shooting through her leg, Evelyn forced herself to stand. Using the support beam as her support as well, she allowed herself a few moments to breathe through the pain before lurching forward.

Lions had Hotch pinned against the wall, his arm across his chest to keep him there. Evelyn hurtled toward Lions, pushing through the pain in her leg and barreled into him. This knocked him off balance. Being unable to stop herself once she started, she and Lions tumbled over each other until they were both on the ground. Hotch started forward to help Evelyn to her feet, but Lions had an arm around her waist and the knife pressed to her neck before either of them could really react.

“Back off,” Lions said, his voice even more gruff than before. Blood dribbled down from a broken nose and he wheezed, telling Evelyn that Hotch had hit him enough times near the diaphragm to knock the wind out of him.

The cool of the metal knife pressed against Evelyn’s throat didn’t scare her. Especially when she met Hotch’s gaze. That dead calm he always put forward she now felt flow through her veins. Everything was going to be okay, she could see it in his eyes. Evelyn breathed as shallowly as she could, trying to keep her throat from extending too far into the knife.

Lions pushed himself off the ground and brought Evelyn up with him. The knife cut into the first few layers of her throat and Evelyn flinched, feel the cool of her own blood dribble down her neck. Hotch put his hands in the air, trying to show that he meant Lions no harm.

“She’s not a part of this,” Hotch said. “You know that, Lions.”

“She’s a bitch is what she is,” Lions snapped, pressing the knife harder against Evelyn’s neck.

Hotch flinched forward and Evelyn shut her eyes.

“You want me, Lions, not her.” This was the calmness that Evelyn had never understood before. Her negotiation skills had never been good. Hotch said that she was too emotional. She cared too much and it was too easy to read in her voice. But Hotch was too good at pretending not to care at all. “Let her go and I’ll go with you.”

“No, Hotch-“

“Shut up,” Lions seethed in her ear. “You don’t get to talk.”

“Is that how you treat Rosalie, huh?” Evelyn asked, her hands on his arm that held the knife to her throat. “You call her a bitch and tell her shut up?”

“Be quiet!”

Evelyn could feel blood soak into her shirt, weighing it down.

“Lions, look at me,” Hotch said, pulling his attention away from Evelyn. “You can let her go.”

Evelyn felt her wounded leg start to grow numb and her balance shifted. In not too long, she wasn’t sure that she would be able to keep herself standing upright.

The door behind them burst open and Evelyn let out a gasp. Lions flinched and loosened his grip on her just enough that she broke free from him and stumbled forward, right into Hotch.

“Jeremy Lions, drop the knife and put your hands in the air!” Emily Prentiss said, her voice deep and commanding.

Evelyn’s leg gave out, every ounce of weight put on it causing a shooting pain up and down her entire body. Hotch held her up by her arms, her back pressed against his chest. He was the only thing keeping her standing and she could barely even do that.

Lions didn’t turn around, but he put his hands up in the air.

“Rosalie did this,” he said, his voice deadly low.

“Drop the knife, Lions,” Emily said again.

“You turned her against me.” Lions shifted his angered eyes away from Hotch and onto Evelyn. “You did.”

“I don’t want to shoot you, Lions, but I will.”

“You turned her against me!”

Lions took half a step toward them, the knife now facing her. Hotch turned Evelyn away, preparing to step between them, but Emily fired a single shot, the bullet tearing right through Lions’ shoulder. He fell to the ground with a cry of pain, the knife falling out of his grip.

Evelyn, still unable to stand on her own, turned to Hotch, her neck still bleeding.

“Are you okay?” she asked him, noting the bruises on his face.

“Are you guys alright?” Emily asked, her gun trained on Lions.

“We need a medic,” Hotch said. Emily nodded her head, her eyes flickering down the cut in Evelyn’s shin and neck.

Emily relayed the information through her earpiece, as well as saying the offender was down. Evelyn stayed leaned up against Hotch, his hands clinging to her arms to keep her steady, as Emily took Lions away in handcuffs.

Morgan and Reid came running into the basement along with the paramedics.

“Evie,” Morgan stepped toward her and she just smiled.

“We’re okay,” she told him.

“Ma’am,” the paramedic said. “Let’s get you to the ambulance.”

The paramedics stepped forward, one taking hold of Evelyn. The other moved toward Hotch.

“How are you feeling?” the paramedic asked him.

“Can you make it to the ambulance?” the paramedic asked Evelyn, who nodded her head.

“I can carry you,” Morgan said, stepping forward. Evelyn let out a quiet laugh.

“I can manage on my own, Derek,” she told him. Still, he followed her and the paramedic, his hands out just in case she started to fumble.

They helped her up the stairs and she looked back at Hotch, to find that his eyes were still on her. He nodded her head and she smiled at him.

The pain that flared throughout Evelyn’s leg was white hot, but with the paramedic taking most of her weight and Morgan just behind her, Evelyn was able to make it to through the house and to the ambulance without letting a single tear fall from her eye.

Hotch came out of the house a few minutes later, the paramedic still trying to get him to sit for a moment while Reid filled him in on everything they missed in the case.

“I’d like to speak with Rosalie,” Hotch said.

“She’s over here,” Reid said.

Hotch tried not to look over at the ambulance where he knew Evelyn was. He still had a job to do and he couldn’t focus on that if all he could think about was whether or not she was okay. He knew she was okay. She was always okay.

Rosalie sat in the back of one of the cop cars, her eyes closed and silent tears running down her cheeks. Hotch popped open the door, but she didn’t look at him.

“Is he alive?” she asked.

“He’ll survive,” Hotch told her. Rosalie let out a shaky breath and slowly opened her eyes. “Why did you help us?”

“I didn’t help you,” she said, looking away from him and toward the ambulance. “I helped Evelyn.”

Hotch scowled.

“She loves you, you know?”

Her words startled him and Hotch felt ice run through his blood.

“What?”

“She loves you. I gave her food at night but she’d only eat part of it, saved the rest for you. And last night I came to take her somewhere safe before Jeremy came back to kill you, but she refused to leave. I almost had her out of that house, but she ran back in. For you.”

Hotch looked down at his feet. He didn’t really expect anything less of Evelyn Caro. She always put everyone’s lives above her own. He shouldn’t expect her to act any different toward him.

But anger still bubbled up inside of him. She could have gotten herself killed and for what? She should have left him there and ran to get help. She should have….

“You better be damn sure you’re worth it.” Rosalie’s words were venom and Hotch could feel their sting deep in his blood.

Hotch shut the door, leaving Rosalie to her silence and grief. He turned to look at the ambulance, just as Morgan was stepping into the back. The paramedic shut the door, closing Hotch off from Evelyn. The siren started to blare, and the ambulance rolled out of the driveway.

“They’re taking her to the hospital,” Prentiss said, walking over to him. Hotch nodded his head. “Lost too much blood to just let her come back with us.”

“She kept antagonizing him,” Hotch said as he placed his hands on his hips. “If she had just let me go with him-“

“Caro was protecting you, sir,” Prentiss said. He looked at her, scowl deepening. “She knew that as soon as Lions had you, he would kill you. She had to make sure that didn’t happen.”

Hotch watched the ambulance as it drove away, the sirens ringing.

He never got the chance to ask if she was okay.

___

Evelyn lay back in her bed at the hotel, staring at the ceiling. A bandage wrapped around her leg and it itched, making it impossible for her to sleep. There was something else keeping her awake. Her mind reeled, the last few days playing over and over in her head. Trapped in a room with Hotch for days on end was the perfect time to talk to him about all the things that were bothering her, but even then, she couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t even know where to begin because she didn’t even know what she was feeling anyway.

Sitting up with a huff, Evelyn glowered into the darkness. She threw off her blankets that were making her too hot, lowering herself onto the ground and landing on her good leg. She hobbled over to her discarded clothes and threw them back on.

Air was what she needed. A breath of fresh air. And then she’d be okay. She could go back to pretending that everything was fine and normal, like she always did.

As she pulled a coat onto her shoulders, she opened the door and froze.

Hotch was standing there, wearing a broken down version of his usual suit. His tie and jacket were discarded, his shirt buttoned up sloppily. She wondered if he had ever even gone to bed. And he was standing in front of her door, his hand not even raised to knock. He was just standing there.

He looked at her with wide eyes, shocked to find her there.

“Um, hi,” Evelyn said, dropping her hand from the doorknob.

“I just wanted to check to see how you were doing,” Hotch said.

“Hotch, it’s like three in the morning.”

He looked down at his hands. He was actually fidgeting. Something had made him motivated enough to come here, but nervous enough not to knock.

“I know. I can go-“

“No, wait.” He froze. “I never got to ask if you were okay.”

Hotch nodded his head.

“I’m okay.”

“Good.”

They stood there in silence. Evelyn felt her throat tighten every time she wanted to say something. Hotch wouldn’t look at her. The silence seemed to drag on for eternity before Hotch finally broke it.

“I talked to Rosalie, after everything, and she said something,” Hotch said. Evelyn finally put her eyes on him.

“What…what did she say?”

There were a thousand terrible things that Evelyn could think of that the woman could have possibly said to land her standing in front of her boss at three in the morning.

“She said that you had a chance to leave that house and you came back,” he told her. Evelyn straightened her back. This was going to be a lecture, she could just feel it coming. She just didn’t know why it couldn’t wait until morning. “Why?”

Evelyn scowled and looked at the ground, her hand still on the door.

“Why?” She repeated. “Because I couldn’t leave you there.”

“You should have.”

Evelyn felt her temper begin to rise. What was it with this man?

“A ‘thank you for saving my life’ would suffice,” she said, her tone harsh. “If I hadn’t come back, Lions would have killed you. From where I’m standing, I made the right decision.”

“And got yourself hurt in the process.”

“I’ll survive.” Hotch fell quiet again. “Listen, Aaron, if you’ve come to pick a fight, I think it can wait until morning.”

Evelyn took a step back and started to close the door, but Hotch lifted his hand and stopped it from closing. She looked over at him, jaw tightened, and found him staring back at her.

“I’m not here to pick a fight with you,” he said.

“Then why did you come?”

She could see the question rattling around in his brain, as if he had been asking himself that very same question ever since he left his room.

“I’m sick of this, Aaron,” she said finally, when he didn’t answer. “I’m sick of neither of us being able to say what we really mean. I’m sick of running in circles around each other. Just tell me why you came here.”

“I came to make sure you’re okay.”

“Mission accomplished then. I’m fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She started to close the door again and this time he didn’t stop her.

“Rosalie also said you loved me.”

Evelyn froze, the door almost shut so she couldn’t see his face anymore. Which was good because it meant that he also couldn’t see hers and the fear that was etched into every feature. Her breathing became heavy, like every breath took so much more work. She closed her eyes, and slowly started to open the door again.

“Rosalie said that?” Hotch nodded his head once. “Did you believe her?”

He was quiet for a moment, letting out a long but quiet sigh.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re a profiler. Tell me, what do you think?”

He took a while to answer.

“I think you’re a deeply compassionate person who cares for the team. I think you would give your life for any one of us in a heartbeat.” Evelyn looked down at her feet and Hotch tried to follow her eyes with his. “I know that you would never do anything to jeopardize the dynamics of this team because we’ve become your family.”

“Okay.”

“So, I don’t know how much of what you say and do is because the team is your family and how much is because-“

“-I love you.”

The words came from her mouth like any other fact would. She had known it for so long, never said it, not even to herself, but she knew it. And she managed to say it so casually. She was just completing his sentence after all.

Hotch stood still, as if trying to decide whether or not she was finishing what he was saying or confessing. He searched her eyes, but she stayed motionless. It was time he figured things out for himself, she decided. They’d both spent so long trying to figure the other out, it was high time someone just made the first move.

“When you were at Ralph Bennet’s house,” he said finally, “I had these horrible dreams about finding you there already dead. I was too late to save you.”

Evelyn could have sworn there were tears glimmering in his eyes.

“You did though, Aaron. You did save me.”

“But was I too late?” He asked. “Did I wait too long for…everything else?”

“What do you want, Aaron?” Her voice was just at a whisper, her hand still on the door.

It was the last time she would ask. This was the last time and then she’d let it go, let him go. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life, however short that might be, pining after one man.

Hotch surprised her then. He didn’t say anything else, he didn’t try to talk. Talking was clearly getting him nowhere. Everything he said somehow came out wrong. Instead, he took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. Putting a hand to her cheek, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.

His answer was clear. It took her a few moments to over come her shock, but when she did, she reached out to grab hold of his shirt collar, pulling him in closer.

She pulled him into her room and shut the door, leaving the hallway empty and quiet.

Her room was still dark as he moved her backward, his hands never leaving her. He thought he had lost her. But here she was, with him, and that’s all he needed.

“You,” he whispered against her skin. “Just you.”

Every raging fire that made up Evelyn Caro met the calm seas that built Aaron Hotchner, burning and boiling and soothing in every possible way.

He kissed her lips, her bruised cheek bone, her jaw. His hands rested against the side of her neck, gently though, so as not to irritate her wound. She tugged at his wrinkled shirt, trying to pull him closer.

Hotch knew this was breaking protocol. But he left behind every rule in the book when he left his room two hours ago. Every inch of contact with her made his stomach twist, every time her teeth grazed his lip made his heart pound. For so long he had wanted her and for so long he had pretended otherwise. He was so, so tired of pretending.

He was pulling off her shirt and she didn’t stop him and he didn’t stop himself, but he couldn’t. He just needed all of her.

Evelyn gasped, her intake of breath so sharp that Hotch pulled away. She breathed raggedly, her chest rising and falling.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his eyes moving to her neck.

Consumed by her, he had forgotten the shape she was in. He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her.

“I’m not that fragile,” she told him. There was a smug look on her face, her lips twitched up into a smile.

Hotch leaned forward to kiss that smile, soft and gentle. His hands dropped to her waist and he kissed her again. He intended to pull away, leave her be for the night, but every time he tried, he came back to her like a magnet.

Evelyn had just as hard as a time keeping away from him. His calloused hands were grazing over her sides, her waist, her stomach, her back. Her hands were trembling as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Her heart pounded like a drum beat in her chest, so hard that she could hear it in her ears and it made her hands shake.

She expected him to stop her, to realize what he was doing and take her hands a politely decline, but when the last button came undone, he pulled away from just long enough to take the shirt off himself.

Hotch put his lips back on hers as soon as he could. Evelyn smiled against his kiss.

As if she had burned him, he suddenly stepped away, leaving Evelyn leaning against the wall, heaving for breath. He stared at her, his own breath ragged, his dark eyes smoldering.

“Is something…did I…?”

Shame pooled in Evelyn’s cheeks, making them burn. There she was, completely and utterly exposed, barely able to stand well enough on her own to scurry away.

“You’ve had a very hard year, Evelyn,” he said.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at the ground, locking her jaw.

“Hotch….”

“And I can’t take advantage of-“

“Aaron!” She said with a laugh, forcing him to look at her. “I’m fine. This is fine, more than fine.”

“Is it what you want?” he asked.

She gave a small smile and heaved out a sigh.

“Aaron Hotchner,” she said. “Have I ever done anything I haven’t wanted to?”

Lifting a hand, she curled her finger, beckoning for him. He stepped toward her until he was just a breath away.

“I’ll tell you if I need to stop,” she said to him, just above a whisper.

Evelyn reached up and kissed him again. It took him a few moments to respond, but once he accepted what she said, he leaned into her.

He placed a hand on her chest, right over her heart.

And for once, in a very, very long time, that wound in her soul didn’t feel so gaping.

[riewritten]

20 REKINDLING

DUSK IN THE BRIGHTEST | chapter directory

erwin smith/fem!reader, erwin smith/you, no y/n | slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff & smut, mutual pining, canon AU, college/univ AU, professor erwin smith, commander erwin smith, non-linear narrative, manga spoilers

Trigger warning: canon-typical violence, graphic description, explicit sexual content, suicidal thoughts, mental health issues, trauma, implied/referenced sexual harassment, implied/referenced abuse, attempted murder, overdosing

Plot: It was always the nightmares, really. Entrapped with walls, human-eating giants, fighting through metal strings and swords – utterly violent, dreary, recurrent. But behind the blurry faces was a man with menacing blue eyes and vivid features; eventually appearing before you as your new reputable professor, Erwin Smith. Since then, the disaster had slipped beyond your subconscious. AO3

art credits to sukiblog! the other versions of this art ft. more aot characters are just 🤌chef’s kiss🤌

"You're being dumb right now, seriously." She called your name, "You're not the one to deny such an opportunity."

"I'm just comfortable in my line of work now." You smiled back in apology despite the utter indifference on the matter at hand and the annoyance boiling up on you for her continuous taunts on it.

"It's because of your brother, right?" When you didn't respond, she clicked her tongue. "Gosh, he's not a baby. Let him live on his own. Do you have a brother complex or something?"

You don't think it's about your brother, though. You had a lot of aspirations as a child, mostly revolving around questions – what's with the silly underground your parents have grown into? How did it, along with such giant walls, exist? Why are so many children, roughly not even in the age of ten, are thrown down the ground? Why is it normal? What can you do to make it better? You knew you'd become passionate in embarking on such a mission to answer these questions but the need to make both ends meet for the both of you stopped you from doing so. In exchange of the joy from those curiosities, you could protect someone in your grasp instead. That's why you grew up blandly.

"I think if I want to have something I'd be willing to bid my brother our separate ways. It's just that I don't have anything in mind, and that promotion apparently didn't pique me as well."

"But tell me, what if he dies? What would be left of you?" Your eyes were shot wide, "You're basically an empty shell as you are. What if he's gone?"

Her voice became an echo, slowly lowering in pitch but then another voice overlapped on it; it was a scream this time around. Cries in low volume turning up, up, and up to its crescendo until it rang your ears painfully. It was when you realized the groans of your dying comrades and her voice saying you're an empty shell piled around each other, making your head throb. As you propelled to scream so you could wash the overwhelming sensations away, you shot your eyes wide instead. You were having a nightmare, again. This was the fourth night in the hideout room both of you settled into. This time, you won by making him sleep on the bed while you guard the door. The agreement was actually exchanging rounds, two hours to sleep, then two hours to guard. But you didn't wake him up and actually slept beside the door along the way. 

However, what's alarming was that even after waking up the voice you've encountered in your dream was still speaking. Just outside the door. The realization made your blood run cold. 

"So this whole floor was rented by the Survey Corps? For how many days?" She asked.

The other one she's speaking to sounded like the landlady's son, "I'm not sure in particular because my mom's the one who processed it but, do you have any urgent concern, perhaps? I don't think they'll be awake to accommodate a fellow soldier at this hour though."

"Of course not," She laughed, "But we have a matter to talk about later on and I just dropped by to confirm if this was indeed the right place to go." You heard her footsteps clank away along with her voice, "Thanks! I'll be back later."

Fuck. You immediately fixed on your things so it'd be easy to grab in case things got to worse, then tapped lightly on Erwin who was easy to wake up. "Very well, you can lie down here now." He groggily remarked, sat up to fix his composure until you interjected, "I heard someone speaking just outside the door. It's someone from the Interior."

He quickly got into it and nodded, "What time is it?"

"Three in the morning," He shot you a confused look for a while because he lied down precisely at nine o'clock and expected to be woken up by eleven. However, that's not the issue at hand. "They immediately went full on tonight. Despite their deliberate presence around the Survey Corps Headquarters, they never inquired straight on where we were."

You looked down the window to check, tapping on the sill restlessly, "And apparently they're doubled in number. They also didn't rely on the youngsters to do the job for tonight. The one I heard from the door was an old acquaintance." You grabbed your cloak in a rush, "I'll be checking the situation down. The Scouts from the Reiss' farms might be on their way back as well."

Before you twist the knob open, Erwin called your name. "As soon as you meet them, get the report and usher them on a safe route out. Tell them to catch up to the Scouts resting on the HQ and eventually disperse towards Squad Levi to assist." The realization daunted you and he immediately confirmed it as well, "Something bad might've happened in the plan and they might be here to face us straight on as soon as the sun rises."

Panic coiled down your stomach. You knew this would happen and they'd sought Erwin out as soon as their cards lay bare even if he won't be in the headquarters. Still, you never thought it'd be this quick. Along with his command, you also tried to think of a way out somehow.

It's almost five in the morning when you came back. Much stressed and jittery unlike earlier, you banged the door open, "I'm ba–" You froze on the spot then the sight made you realize your mistake. He was quite taken aback as well. "Sorry, too frantic to remember proper conduct of knocking." You gently moved the door close again so Erwin could put his top garment in peace but Erwin quickly chipped in. "No, it's fine. Enter. The situation's dire." So you did, albeit flushed in shame. "And if it's you, the manner's not a new sight to see." He flatly added but this time it was laced with mock. 

"Yeah, I suppose." And you gave your updates in lament. He just hummed through it and right after you spoke, he gave you a cup of tea.

"So," You languidly rolled on the cup to mix the fluid in, "This is another one of our tea parties that precedes unfortunate events, huh."

"With the usual pretty ambience of death." He added, sat on the chair and sipped his own cup. "At least no ugly titans humoring around. Guess you could take it as a good morning."

"Yeah, just ugly humans." You rested your elbow on the table and slouched on your palm, "Humans. My job." You heaved a sigh, "My career's sabotaged."

"Told you. The job I gave you lapsed a long time ago."

"That's a talk outside work, Erwin." You hummed nonchalantly, sipping on the cup.

"It's breakfast. Not work time."

"Then please spare me of your tirades on my emotionality, Commander. I'd rather be doing morning crisis reflections with you instead." You looked at him flatly, the same he's looking at you. You figured both of you are too exhausted to keep the day up, and your back is aching from sitting the night as well. "Sleeping on the chair made me forget the intricate affirmations needed so I could go by subjecting a traumatized teenager to a whole-ass throne. Or something. Please."

He let out a low chuckle, "Quite unusual way to ask for comfort but I suppose I'd get it," He stood up to refill both of your cups, "How about I humor you with a sappy story instead?"

"As long as it's related to my inquiry," You hummed, fully slouching your head this time.

"It is," He gave you your cup again and settled on his seat. "So when I was a child–"

You shot him a glare in disbelief, "Oh my god. We don't have three bottles of wine and a whole night to talk about that." 

"I will try to make it short." He smiled. You nodded in doubt but let him regardless, "My father was a history teacher who died after his stupid child spread out his silly theories about walls."

You shot your eyes open, immediately sitting properly, with a small sneer on your reaction he continued. "And apparently, those silly theories came piling up as a reality one after the other. Titans being humans, walls being titans and whatnot."

Your chest clenched. Although these were mere stories you've just heard way back, you're not all unfamiliar with the job of trying to alienate people with the talks outside the walls. You were once alienated by it yourself after all, and you really encountered people who partake in that job to maintain that customary alive.

"That's what I get by so I could subject a traumatized teenage girl towards a throne. Desperation."

"Right, brinkiest brink of the crisis. That's where we are." The situation ran cold your body again, finally getting the much needed urge to partake the heaviness this day would bring. "So, that's the reason why you embarked on such a noble cause." You pondered on it, "You might have your own tendencies but you're not wrong when you say it's for humanity's freedom."

"No. Humanity's freedom is a bluff. You were actually right when you said it was for myself." He quickly clarified, "I'm just pathetically curious and silly hopeful that if I proved my father right, I would be able to atone for my sin of having such a filthy mouth."

You looked down in lament. This might be the only time Erwin laid the particularities of his motivations, but it's not like you didn't figure out the gist of it throughout the years you were tending to him. You knew, and you could still remember your previous anger for his shamelessness, but you've come to terms with his eccentricities now. You actually became shamelessly drawn to him instead as you tried to empathize his struggles further. Recalling your earlier dream of being an empty shell, you were quite relieved now that it wasn't true. You didn't become a goner after your brother died. Erwin rekindled the lost passionate spirit you've long buried in a pile of lies and indifference. You ended up having much more resolve, and another person to protect all your life with. 

"You just keep on being painfully honest to me all the time, don't you think? You could've just spurred lies to me as well and I'll become straight up acquiescent. No flailing manners, not even anguish emotional confrontations."

"But that's why I kept you beside me, because you knew it and I have to have someone to remind me how vile I really am from time to time." He looked at you, "See, sometimes my desperation makes me lose myself. My eloquence ends up fooling me as well – that I really am standing to offer my heart in pursuit of humanity's freedom even when it's not."

"Hah," You huffed at the revelation, "So you threatened me out of my job just for this role? Even made me cry out of guilt?"

"Yeah and it's too late to mutter apologies now." He sighed then pondered for a while, "But looking back, I think I was honest with you at some point, though. I really needed you to protect me back then."

"From the titans, Erwin. You did not include yourself. The instruction wasn't clear. Now look at the mess I've become."

"Oh," He thought about it for a while and laughed.

"So many anguish would've been spared had you became honest to me earlier, don't you think? Should've done this the time Wall Maria fell. Then I would've become a much more capable aide."

"You are," He interjected without hesitation, "Even more than anyone could." 

"So, all this talk but I can't help but be curious about one thing. If I apparently had the role to keep you in check of who you are and what you really live for, that is so you wouldn't be blinded by your own words," You glanced at him with a hard stare, "Then why are you adamant on dying during that day when I gave you the chance to live?"

Erwin wasn't able to answer and the silence was almost downright annoying. After a while he looked down at the ground, "Maybe the guilt."

"Guilt never fazed you during crises, Erwin. Not when you still have a way out."

"Hm," He smiled sadly. "Right." Then stayed silent again.

Having enough for the lack of response, you continued. "If you're not going to answer that then just give me your word on this." You completely turned to him, "I'll get you out of the Interior's grasp and the mess they're going to make of you anytime today. You could still push through the plan of getting Rod Reiss without the threat of being tortured or killed."

Erwin furrowed his brows on you, "How would you do that?"

"I managed to set a route that you can use to escape anytime soon, at least before late morning. Some soldiers are left standing by. I'll stall the Interior as you escape, then declare you as missing so the Scout soldiers in the vicinity, including me, will be picked up instead."

He was immediately displeased, "You do understand that out of all the Scouts assigned to this very place as we speak, you're the second highest in command. Not to mention you're the commander's escort yourself. You being picked up by them will guarantee immediate torture to squeeze you of my whereabouts. They won't even let you rest in jail for a minute."

"You're right, that's why I need your word that you'll let me out as a pawn."

"You're the one who told us the particularities in the Interior. Unlike me that would be persecuted in public, they'll immediately have you killed behind the curtains."

"Again, I am aware." You looked at him with utter resolve.

"No. That won't work."

"Tell me better options."

"Facing them straight on will lessen the citizen's hostility towards the Scouts. We should not impose risks to our reputation further."

"The Interior's presence as of the moment says otherwise. They're setting up down below as we drink tea and the time they confront us we won't be able to escape their confines. After a day or two state-propaganda will be spread out all over the walls through official news agencies, painting the Survey Corps bad in whatever narrative they see fit."

"That's why we'll lessen the worsening public opinion by–"

"You know that's not what would happen, Erwin. No matter who or how many Scouts they'll capture today, they'll throw all their cards the same."

"Don't attempt to change the chain of commands here. We're standing by my orders. That's final."

You let out a wry sneer at the sight of him failing his rationale, "If you're not giving me your word then answer my question. Why are you adamant on pushing through such threats in your life when I am giving you the chance out of it?"

"Seriously, we're done on this talk." He stood up, took the cups to wash it himself. "I told you that if you'll get that pathetic by my side then just go."

"If there's someone being pathetic here, it's certainly the one failing to have rational reason on this matter."

"I don't believe you have a rational reason yourself."

"If you're speaking of my personal reasons then you might correct. All my motivations are evoked by my own personal feelings hence influencing every proposition and sin I will be making in my life," You spat out. "Still, I stand on my duty and that is to protect the Scouting Regiment, especially the highest chain of command. Now, tell me, Commander, what duty are you holding onto to refuse such a plan?" You pressed further, now gripping harder on the table.

He didn't answer, when he finished washing the cups he settled a spare glass and a pitcher of water on the table. When you realized he isn't going to take whatever you're asking of him now, you added with finality. "If you refuse to convince me otherwise, I'll see to it that this plan will be done. I have nothing to lose here. Muster up your resolve on the role you've put me in and make me do my job."

Erwin had his back on you, one side of his body leaned on the wall. He wasn't saying anything, not even grunts of disapproval, seething anger, or stance akin to disdain. But even before you stood up, the door banged open again; it was Hange this time. "Is Erwin here! Whew, there you are!" They started shouting again, "Eren remembered some vital information about the titans and its bad news! We have to rethink this plan! He said it might've been just a dream so we shouldn't take it seriously, but fuck! If this is true then it would be really bad. We have to deal with this immediatel–"

"Be straight to the point. What's the problem?" He cut them off and gave them a glass of water.

"The Reiss," Hange reached for the glass, coming down from their high, "Wants to eat Eren."

You stood up with a sharp breath, your fists immediately clenching. The only hope for Erwin to come out of this unscathed is to seize the Reiss and squeeze them of all the needed information and convincing. If making them acquiescent will never be in the consideration, then he might really be bound to death this time.

Sensing your upcoming outburst, he gave you a hard stare. "Stop. Guard outside."

You stopped, but you were still seething and you don't know if it's out of anger or fear. You looked at him unfaltering, taunting that you're not hesitating on this. After a while, his look at you softened, "I really don't have enough time to convince you otherwise, and I'm honestly at a loss because it was never rational to begin with." He turned sideways to ponder about it, hesitated, then just ended up heaving a sigh. "The day I asked you to quit and the night after you killed him." He walked towards you, ushering you out of the room as he did, "Skim through that memory, repeatedly if you can. You're smart enough to figure out how irrational those moments were. Whatever comes up in your mind is correct. If you grasp it, then respect my irrationality instead of taunting me for a valid reason." You're now out of the room, "And as you hold on to that, gather as many Scouts as you could out of this place and do the role I've put in you; protect your comrades." He banged the door shut.

You released a ragged breath in sheer panic and a tear messily ran down you as soon as it was closed hardly. You clenched on your fist until nails crept your skin to bruise and bleed. As if you didn't feel powerless already the past few days, now you feel downright inferior. Entering the regiment with heavy reluctance, you still did as you're told – getting sincere to the cause, protecting whoever and whatever, and staying in line with it at the cost of your life. Even when you slipped into an honest mistake you still kept yourself up, so you just don't understand why. You only need one thing from him and that is his resolve. You're not asking him to reciprocate whatever dumb feelings you've garnered towards him. You're just asking him to be himself and let you die.

Still, despite the throbbing urge to go against this one, you decided to follow it. Even though it was quite too late, you were able to spare a lot of Scouts from the arrest including yourself. When Dimo Reeves' body was shown to everyone and publicly cornered Erwin through it, you almost lost your cool in desperation to have him out. The cards they laid was murder. They will not get him out of this alive. No coaxes to the public eye, not even a space for sentiments.

Luckily, you spotted the other Reeves which you remembered as Flegel. Seeing a potential escape from this, you grabbed him instead and fled up, meeting Hange in a surprise along the way. They focused their attention on coaxing Flegel first and as you finally set onto another place to regather and strategize, they turned into you. "You won't let those words be the last thing Erwin will say to you, do you?"

"Huh?"

"Retrieve him from that mess and slap him in the face. That's what he needs to get instead. Got it?" You angrily fought back on your tears for a while then as brought up a new resolve, you successfully gulped it down and nodded.

Just as you expected, state-propagated news scattered immediately. The headline isn't even meant for trial, it's already concluded.

"Our plan is to visit them later on but, well." Hange shrugged, "Guess you're up for a happy sweet reunion right now?"

"I bet it would be sweet. Printing Nifa and the others as coldblooded murderers and painting even my wanted poster." You flatly looked at the publication material and fastened the knife on your waist, "I understand his reasons though. We had a talk about it once. Just hits different now." But then Hange motioned their finger no. "Ah-ah-ah, can't do that. We'll do the knife and you'll do the talk. Fix your face." You sighed and shot them with your constricted smile, the one they're humored to see of you in every diplomatic talk with Erwin. "Perfect! Let's go!"

You were mostly in charge of actually convincing them to publish whatever unfolds the Reeves' corporation so when Hange and Moblit finally arrived with them on the roof, you're the one who stayed with them.

Roy, the director of the Berg's Newspaper that you've been acquainted with, greeted your presence with a shock, "You really are–" The old man stuttered, "Alive?"

"Very much so. You drew my poster just fine, didn't you?" You flatly remarked as you secured the safety of the hideout. "I think my face's the one most accurate, maybe you helped them point it out?"

He looked at you apologetically, "I'm sorry. They knew we had met before. They asked me to… add details." But then he examined you again, "But it seems like it's not that accurate anymore if I'd be honest myself. What happened to you?"

You blandly greeted his friend first, name's Pierre, then turned to Roy, "New apprentice?"

"Yeah. Not as composed as your brother but as eager as he is. Too innocent for this world just yet." He answered, "Anyway, how's your brother–"

"Really?" You turned to Pierre and playfully squinted his eyes on him, "How eager are you for this world?" Your tone interrogating.

"I–" Pierre stuttered with a blush on his face, but  Roy coaxed her, "Tell her. She's like me but younger. Show her how silly your aspirations in life are." You nodded as well, encouraging him.

"I actually had a dream to unravel the wonders inside the walls, even beyond where the Scouts travel, if possible. That's why I ventured this job." He then sheepishly laughed, "And I think coming to here was of my own accord, because I still hoped to do it." And gave you a cheeky smile.

You smiled wistfully at Roy, "You're right, Roy. He's really like him. But I'm not who I was before, so I'm really rooting for Pierre this time around. Passionate souls aren't bound to death all the time."

"So, really, where's your brother?"

"Dead. Way before the wall fell." It made his eyes shot wide. He really took a liking to that runt. "Even me who's already like you at such a young age would end up risking it all once everything's lost, see?" With his eyes turning into worry, you continued. "So watch. All these people below think the same as you, even right now."

And they did, they witnessed eyes and ears the worlds of the Military Police themselves, and you're sure this hits close to home for Roy. As the Reeves people mob on the soldiers down, only horror went up Roy's face.

As Hange stepped up on the stairs, they said. "So what do you think? That MPs right, the truth won't spread on its own. You're the only ones who can reach the people."

Pierre urged him to go for it, eager to expose the Military Police and clean up the Survey Corps' name. Eventually, Roy shouted back. "Then try it! Try it and see where it goes! All our colleagues and friends are as good as dead! There was once a miner who disappeared after digging under the wall. When one of my friends looked into it, they disappeared too! That's how things work inside these walls! We live because the king allows us to live. You can see that, right?" Then he turned to every Scout soldier near him, including you.

"And you almost disappeared along with your friend until my brother saved you through it." You replied to him, "And my brother, being the dumb one, begged me to save your family somehow because the MP was very close at including them. Just because your little kid slipped a tiny phrase about it. I was kind of defeatist towards you too, right? That's why you told Pierre we're the same. But see, Roy, my brother, a very dumbly passionate meek man that he is, was the one who saved you from that predicament. And you have that chance too, not only for a single family alone."

Pierre held on to Roy's collar, "These royal government pigs have no intention of saving the people! Do you still not understand? The next time the titans attack, there won't be anything left. Not out company! Not our families!" 

Roy looked very confused and he's on the verge of crying. Then his eyes slid towards you as you looked down at him very flatly, "Not even me or my brother, would be left to sneak out and ensure the safety of your family when they get targeted again. And most especially, if the titans are to be the ones doing the targeting."

Your remark made him avert his stare again. Eventually, as the tears welled up his eyes, he heaved a smile. "Never thought a time would come where I would be able to return such a huge favor from you, young girl. I'm sure your brother's proud at you up there." You just nodded, not believeing the notion that there's a scrape of him left even in another world.

With the people finally appeased of Roy's concurrence, you looked at Pierre again and noticed his full smiles at you, the vigor and joy of hope flashing through him. Just like how your brother looked at Erwin. You smiled back endearingly and ruffled his hair, "Good job, Pierre. Humanity needs people who are eager to give them the truth they very much deserved. You have a long path ahead but you're doing very great already." Pierre sheepishly smiled with a flush, "If a humanity's hero like you would say that then I'll surely believe in myself more." 

All of you rushed to finish the article as soon as possible in the publishing house. And as soon as Roy had finished the first original copy, he tossed it towards you and Hange beamed in concurrence, “You look like shitting anytime soon, so go where you need to. You wanted to save Erwin, right? The military divisions are being gathered now to discuss the disbanding of the Survey Corps. You can still keep up if you run on it now.”

Indeed, you can save him for a while. 

So you did. You quickly chased down through it with your horse with ragged pants and beats of your chest ringing loudly in anxiousness. When you came across the execution platform being built just across the public view, a further feeling of rush ravaged your body. Upon reaching the royal castle, you quickly head towards Anka, Pixis' aide, who was waiting for you outside with a spare Garrison uniform along the way.

"You came just on time! Commander Erwin was summoned just now."

"How does he look?" You pressed, fixing on the uniform neatly and gulping your ragged breaths down.

Anka hesitated for a while, "He looked really bad."

"Eyes gone?" She shook her head no. "Still with one limb?" She nodded. "Two feet?" She nodded.

"Then he can do it." You bit down your inner lip, trying to convince yourself, "That bastard."

"You know, not even a shift on uniform can hide you," Zackley called out your name. Both of you immediately saluted. "You think no one would notice? When you're a silly transferee? And when you're practically glued on the man currently being held in trial?"

"Just for precautionary measures, Sir. It might be weird if I entered in casual clothes or black cloak." You gave him the news article published by Berg's. "It's currently being mass produced as we speak, but it's only a matter of time until everyone receives the news." 

Zackley smirked upon reading and let out tsks along the way, "As expected of you, Scouts. Always ten steps ahead like your Commander." He turned his back on you. "You can join my men as they work on suppressing the central military police. Anka will set to announce the fake wall breach in a moment. You can shortly tend to Erwin after she gives an update and marks my entrance."

Shortly after she entered and you maintained to guard around with jittery feet, noises from the room erupted. Zackley was insanely excited, however. That's why as soon as Anka ran back with positive signals, Zackley released a snarl and walked proudly. You followed Anka to finalize the command in Military Police suppression, then you joined her inside upon reporting. As the commotion unfolded, you quickly made your way to release Erwin of his confines.

"What–" He flinched upon seeing you appear abruptly. Upon holding on his restraints, you looked at his face with distaste. "Fucking terrible," You spat out to stop the lump forming up on your throat at the sight. "You look repulsive. I told you–" You harshly removed the chains, dropping it down with a yelp. "We could've done this the other way." You grit on your teeth, examine his whole body, then when it's clear his only visible difficulty was with walking, you clung his arm around you and ushered him outside.

Upon entering the room intended to clean him and change his clothes, you scooted him on a chair. "Where are the others?" He asked as you gently removed his top. He hissed along the way as the piece of cloth exposed vast toture marks flattened all over his skin, sorting from lashes, burns, punches, and other detailed marks immediately needed to be checked in the hospital right after cleaning this up. You weren't even able to note he's actually asked something as the sight formed overwhelming rings of pain in your head. As you cleaned on him silently, he asked again. "Where are the others?"

"Doing their wonders in ensuring Squad Levi's safety since they're the ones confronting the Interior. I just ran here with the news. I'm the only Scout in the vicinity right now." You knelt down on him, your head on the same level as his chest.

"Why are you wearing the Garrison uniform?"

"I'll change in a while."

"You teamed up with Pyxis? Were you aware of their decision before coming here?"

"They just gave me their spare garment."

"Answer my questions properly." He sternly directed but you cut him off by glazing quite hardly on a blemish of his chest and a hard glare. He let out a sharp grunt.

"Sorry, I don't intend to press such emotional matters on you when you're clearly unwell but," You went gently again, "I don't sit well sharing my plans to someone who eagerly denied it without even talking it out, spurring pathetic notions of just respecting the irrationality," You cut yourself off with a ragged sigh, "–during a crucial moment where genuine reason is needed."

He was shot silent for a while and you went on with your job, making sure to be swift yet keen on every wound especially since some of it sat for days without getting tended. As you worked on his chest, he spoke, "I'm sorry."

You tried to ignore the remark but the way your hand trembled upon it told him otherwise. "Sorry," He called your name this time around. You realized the tremble in your hands were just heightening so you gently rested your equipment on the medicine toolbox just beside you. With his beaten up figure seated before you, you're curled on your knees on the floor and let out a heavy sigh.

"Are we talking about this now," You lowly asked, your eyes glued to the ground.

"I've been thinking about it for days." He replied.

You bit on your lower lip, "You know, we can talk this out after your wounds are tended properly–"

"No. Sorry."

You sighed, "Okay, give me a moment." He hummed through it. After forming your words, you looked up at him. "To make this quick, regarding the rationality you've tried to–"

"I told you whatever comes up in your mind is correct."

"What's coming up in my mind right now as I see how battered you've got is regret." You shot back, paused for a while, and realized you won't be able to have coherent thoughts over this conversation. "Just tell me what you've thought about the past few days that you can't sit until you're tended properly."

"That I regret the choice of keeping you beside me. I should've just let you quit the time you asked. It was quite more unbearable than the hitting itself."

"Well, you are free to feel all the regret regarding your downright behavior but I'm the only person allowed to ponder if my stay in the Survey Corps was for the better or not." With that, you finally softened up. Regaining your hold on the cleaning kit, you went back to your work again. "I had messy reunions with some people I met before joining the Scouts, either clashing with them in a fight or just dreaming about them on a weary night. Meeting them again was more of relieving rather than regretful. All of them apparently thought I was an empty shell that'll break for good once my brother disappears on me. But I didn't break, nor I think I'm an empty shell," You pondered for a while, curling your eyebrows along the way, "Or am I?"

Erwin slightly chuckled, "You're not."

"Right. I'm not." You sneered, "I actually don't care on the role you've put me in anymore. You're being pathetic over it."

"I suppose I am."

You hummed in concurrence and stayed silent, the atmosphere finally calmed down and comfortable. Finishing up on the clean up, you added. "And I'm glad we were able to get you back alive. I was very desperate on it."

"Because?"

You held on to his uniform and guided him on it, "Because I don't want to hear such a vile remark from you when we part ways."

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