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darsynia · 1 year

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Just Right | Ch 1

(Steve Rogers/F!Reader, post-Ultron multi-chapter)

gif by @dailystevegifs

Summary:

You've been in love with Steve Rogers for at least a year, but he treats you the same way he treats every other member of the team-- with respect, but nothing more. It takes an inter-dimensional mistake and a whole second, more assertive, actually interested Steve for you to realize that you don't want just any version of Steve Rogers-- you want the one you've been pining for all this time.

Length: 2,998

FIC MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | MCU MASTERLIST

Ok so the thing is, I adore @ronearoundblindly, and I decided to write her this. The idea I got also very happily fits with my Avengers Bingo square of 'Is it permanent?' It's not my first Steve fic, but it is my first Steve/Reader! I hope you like it Ro.

Reader's nickname 'Dine is pronounced 'Dean.'

Chapter One

You simply can’t believe this is happening.

Fifteen minutes ago, while you were going over proposed alterations to Sam Wilson’s Falcon suit, a person who looked exactly like Steve Rogers walked through the wall right beside you.

“Oh my God!” you’d immediately said. “Do not tell me that Stark created some kind of matter splitter that lets a person walk through walls, please? I live here. I don’t want to put alarm lasers in my bathroom, but I’ll do it!”

Steve had looked behind him at the solid wall and seemed surprised. “I’m sorry miss, but just a second ago, that was a doorway.”

“If you two are trying to distract me out of noticing that the controls for Redwing are different, it’s not going to work!” Sam said, his focus remaining on the sketch you’d mocked up for him.

You’d looked back over to Steve, and that’s when you noticed that something was… off. First of all, you hadn’t designed that uniform, but he did have a few vintage ones still floating around. Second of all, his hair was longer than it had been the previous day at the monthly midday meeting.

The third difference was the way he was looking at you. Admiringly. Something he’d never done before-- you would have noticed.

Sam asked a question about one of the altered features, and as you went through your explanation, you’d kept an eye on the way Steve was wandering through the large room. He seemed to be growing more and more confused, picking up an item to frown at it, walking around one of the free-standing computer terminals, and generally seeming lost. More than once, you’d caught him looking over at you in confusion.

With alarm bells going off in your head, you had made a decision. “You know what, Sam, I think I just caught a problem with this. Can I fix that and have you go back over it tonight, after the dinner thing?”

“Sure, ‘Dine. How many wings did you sign up for?” Sam had said challengingly.

“Oh no you don’t! That’s confidential information. Not as many as you, that’s all I’ll say.”

“You know it. See ya, Steve,” he’d said on his way out. You’d walked along with him, and once Sam was through the door, you hit a very specific button on the panel next to it.

“I think you know I could probably break through any one of these walls,” Not-Quite-Steve said from across the room. He sounded regretful.

“I mean, you could try, but this room is fortified. We test prototypes here, and not every invention behaves as expected,” you’d replied, a little proud of your deliberate double meaning. The button had sent an alert to just Stark, for now, but it also turned on a live recording of the whole room, displayed in certain spaces all throughout the complex.

“That’s why there are no windows,” Faux-Steve observed calmly. “Basement of the tower?”

You had willed yourself not to react to that. After the disaster with Ultron, after losing Bruce to fury and almost losing Stark to guilt, they’d all moved upstate, away from the bad memories. Was this Steve from their past or a whole other future? Was he really Steve at all?

“What were you doing right before you came here?” you asked, walking slowly over to the locker area. You’d probably fit into a few of the things there, if you had to.

“Arguing with Tony over something I thought he shouldn’t be doing.” He’d offered her a thin smile and slipped his hands into his pockets, like that would make him seem less dangerous. You knew better. “Look, whatever it was, it sent me here, and this ‘here’ isn’t my here.”

Natasha had taught you never to give too much away. “Oh?”

“My ‘here’ doesn’t have--”

Before Fake Steve could finish his sentence, Stark burst into the room completely suited up, and things had gotten chaotic from there.

You’re on your way up to one of the open office rooms to write down everything you can remember, but as you get closer to the correct floor, you slow down. You have a bit of a dilemma, and no amount of reassuring yourself is helping.

The sticking point is how you realized something was wrong, what first made you recognize a discrepancy. The longer hair thing will probably be enough, but it isn’t the whole truth. You don’t want to reveal the whole truth, because the whole truth involves something you’ve kept to yourself for over a year.

The real truth is you are head over heels in love with Steve Rogers. Your Steve Rogers, except he isn’t yours. He’s never looked at you the way this one just did.

You haven’t let that be a problem, of course. You’re in your dream job; after being in armor fabrication and development at Stark Industries for years, you’d been recruited by Tony Stark himself to work with the Avengers. It’s been a genuine pleasure creating individual designs that are tailored to each fighter’s strengths and weaknesses, instead of the mass-produced stuff you’d worked on for Stark Industries.

You’d tried hard not to let yourself show any favoritism, after you’d realized your crush on Steve wasn’t going away. You don’t even call him Steve, except in your own head-- but all of that is at risk right now. You’re tuned to indifference, and the open interest you’d caught a glimpse of today is sending your senses reeling.

“Hey, ‘Dine. Tony sent me up to make sure you’re okay, said you looked a little shaken up.” It’s Natasha, and she’s coming your way down the hall. Now you’re even more shaken, because if Stark noticed, Nat sure as hell will.

“I need to write this shit down, but yeah, a little bit,” you admit. “It’s like if instead of Vision, the model in the cradle was Rogers, and they got him 95% right.” With a 5% ‘thinks I’m cute’ flaw, you don’t say aloud.

Nat follows you inside and stands waiting as you busy yourself with finding an incident report and the exact right pen. You handle it right up until you start writing your name and her shadow darkens the rest of the paper.

“Something you need?”

“You’re freaked out.”

“Well, yeah. If an interdimensional version of St-- Rogers is able to stroll into our test room, we’re going to need some equally interdimensional protections for this place, not to mention a thousand thousand other important locations all across the country!” You’d just picked something out of midair to bluff her, but it’s the truth, and now you’re even more worried. You set down the pen and look up at Natasha. “What if they need him, Nat? What if we can’t send him back?”

“If it’s something Tony built, Tony can build it,” she says pragmatically. “One worry at a time.”

“There she is!”

You’re late to the gathering, and you’re going to have to make up an excuse, because the forty-five minutes you spent dithering over your clothing choices had everything to do with the image you wanted to present tonight. You ended up going with something casual, dressed-down, because as much as you’d felt a little thrill at the way Alternate Steve had looked at you, it had been disconcerting and alien. No way did you want to foster more of that.

You look up and smile weakly at Sam-- until you remember something. “Shit, Sam, your thing! I’m so sorry, I didn’t go back in the room after--”

He comes over and slings an arm around your shoulders, comfort bred by familiarity. “No, I get it. Don’t worry, manufacture isn’t set for another week.”

You relax into the hug, slip a hand around his waist and squeeze before both of you let go. “It’s just that I promised--” This time it’s Sam’s expression that interrupts you.

“You know you design this stuff, you don’t have to act like armor yourself, right? You sensed something right away, didn’t you? And you got me out of the room.”

Stark’s loud, defensive voice cuts through your mumbled explanation.

“-veryone’s giving me shit over this, but I’m not the one who screwed up! And I’m the one who’s going to fix it, so lay blame on the correct Stark! Who is, for once, not me.” He’s been making his way over to you to thrust your favorite beer in your hand without asking. You look around for Sam, but he’s gone. “If anyone should be mad, it’s ‘Dine,” he shouts over his shoulder. In a quieter voice he adds, “Don’t tell them I said this, Brigandine, but I apologize on behalf of my bumbling alternate universe counterpart. Who knows what kind of weird traits IMPOST-Steve has that our version doesn’t!”

You already feel sick, and you haven’t drunk or eaten anything yet.

Stark drags you over to the catered wings and fills a plate for you without paying much attention to the cues you’re trying to give him, which is tipsy-typical. Honestly, you’re kind of grateful; with a plate piled high you’ll have every excuse to focus on your meal instead of the cluster around the Steves. Your gregarious boss at least carries it for you, and you indicate the farthest table. This earns you a bit of a concerned look, but you just clink your beer against his and tell him to shoo.

It’s interesting watching the seemingly identical men holding position, holding court, really, as the various Avengers and associated staff ebb and flow around them. It takes a good hour (and half of your plate) for each person to get some time with the newcomer, after which the lights dim a bit, along with everyone’s senses. This is the open-bar payment for the all-hands monthly midday meeting of the day before. Not all the attendees actually live at the compound; you only see the whole team once a month.

With the lights down low, your corner is practically dark, but when a familiar figure approaches, you know who it has to be.

“Have they settled on a name for you yet?”

“Tony seems to favor ‘Major America,’ which is better than I would have expected,” Not-Steve says as he pulls out a chair and settles into it. He turns his head toward you and smiles, the relaxed, almost-flirty kind you’ve always wanted from him. “I get the feeling that if it weren’t for the contrast in uniforms, most of these people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

You make a non-committal noise and finish off your beer. It takes a few gulps, but he just watches, like there’s anything more to see than an anxious, embarrassed woman incredibly out of her depth.

“What about you?” you ask, afterwards.

“Well, we don’t have this complex, which I think I gave away when we met the first time. Tony asked me not to go too deep into the changes--”

“No, no, I get it,” you interrupt. “There could be something we don’t know about yet.”

“And vice versa, yeah. It might have taken longer for me to figure things out if it weren’t for one of the biggest differences. I’ve never seen you before.”

The half-bottle of alcohol hits you just as he says that, and you stare at him.

“Yeah, seeing Sam so comfortable with a complete stranger in a room that strangers probably shouldn’t be allowed in ticked some ‘danger’ boxes for me,” AU Steve says.

The light from the only nearby lamp edges his profile in yellow, and you decide to call him Gold Steve in your head, because ‘AU’ is the periodic table symbol for gold, and that’s what passes for clever for you right now. You’re so proud of this that you miss the next thing he says, and have to ask him to repeat it.

“I said, how did you know? You knew right away.”

“Your hair is longer,” you say, a little too quickly.

Gold Steve tips his head sideways and regards you with a look that amplifies your blood alcohol content to dangerous levels. “It’s a subtle difference. You noticed that?”

“For all you know, it’s my job to keep everyone up to regs,” you joke.

His slow, easy smile is familiar enough, but for the fact that you’re alone together in a dark corner. “I wouldn’t mind that at all,” he says warmly.

It’s time to get out of here before your lost dignity is your only legacy here at the Avengers compound. Already the tipsy feeling is fading, but the Steve Proximity Alarm is blaring at full volume.

You didn’t actually know how accurate the thought was until Gold Steve stands and gallantly (bafflingly) offers his arm, and you hear a second familiar voice behind you.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, is it? She just had the one beer.”

Gold Steve reaches up to rub the back of his neck, clearly chastened. “No, of course. Just instinct, I guess.”

“This is above my pay grade,” you squeak, and set off toward the door. You’d been looking forward to talking to Clint while he’s here. There’s a containment idea you’d had for some of his more dangerous arrows-- but there’s no way in hell you’re staying around to watch Steve Rogers talk Steve Rogers out of paying attention to you.

As you slip through the door, you hear one of them call out, “‘Dine, wait!” but you have no idea which one of them it is.

The next day brings with it a more detailed plan of what to do with Gold Steve. You’re on the periphery and busy with the planned upgrades to Sam and Clint’s gear, so you only hear about it at lunch.

From Gold Steve himself.

You hadn’t even planned to go to the cafeteria area, but as always, your minifridge is sadly devoid of take-out when it really matters. The kitchen looks safe when you get there at two PM, late as usual, but in your defense, you were really caught up in the creative process.

One of the things you love about the Avengers Compound is the random thoughtfulness scattered everywhere. In the cavernous freezer, there’s always a supply of various frozen meals, almost as if you were living back at home and digging in your mom’s fridge to find something she’d made two months ago. They’re made biweekly but eaten any old time, and you score a hit on the back bottom shelf: your very favorite hearty soup.

You’re mid-microwave with it when Gold Steve walks in to rinse out his bowl. Seems he’d made the same exact thing. You wonder who helped him, where that person is now, and why Stark had thought it necessary to design a kitchen with only one way in or out. Hasn’t he ever seen Jurassic Park?

“Oh, hello,” Gold Steve says. You aren’t looking over at him, but you can hear the smile in his voice. You don’t answer right away (because your brain is running through a fragmented list of things to say, and every time you grab one it’s garbled. ‘Soup is for the winter,’ is right out. ‘It’s nice to not expecting to see you here’ makes you nearly abandon the kitchen and push past him out of sheer desperation), and he fills the silence for you. “Oh, that smells familiar, is it the soup?”

You nod, hoping like hell that his version of Tony Stark hasn’t designed telepathy.

“Maybe it’s bad form to joke about it, but I wouldn’t mind taking that recipe back with me. If we figure out how to send me, of course.”

If this was your Steve you would have said something like, ‘I imagine we’d just write it down and put the notecard in your pocket.’ You do joke with the guy, it’s not like you never interact. It’s just that those interactions are as platonic as two houseplants sitting on the same indoor windowsill.

The microwave dings, and you excuse yourself to grab the spoon over near where Gold Steve is standing. After a stir and a taste determines it needs more time, you grit your teeth and start the timer for another minute.

“I’m sorry I make you so uncomfortable, if you don’t mind my saying.”

“You don’t!” you lie, but Gold Steve’s crossed arms lay on the guilt too much to ignore. “I’m… not used to the attention,” you say delicately. His brows furrow, and somehow there are still forty more seconds on the timer before you can be saved by the bell. “She who is seen and not heard?”

“I don’t believe that for a second. Sam Wilson hugged you at that thing last night, you don’t get there by being seen and not heard.”

“Yeah, well, I’m one of the only people who love Redwing as much as he does,” you mutter.

To your delight and horror, Gold Steve comes over and rests a heavy hand on the microwave door, inches away from you. “I cannot imagine being in a room with you and not seeing you,” he says.

The traitorous microwave beeps loudly, startling you sideways into his arm for one shocking second. You back away, saying the first thing that comes to your head.

“Why?” You close your eyes tightly as you realize you’re basically asking for a run-down of compliments from the guy, rushing to say, “I don’t mean that. I mean, I do, but I’m just--”

You hear the sounds of the microwave being operated, and confused, you just stand there with one hand clapped over your mouth, eyes closed. After two loud beeps and the start button, the microwave runs for a few seconds, beeping loudly again. It’s so unexpected that you open your eyes and see Gold Steve with an encouraging look on his face, one hand held out placatingly in your direction.

“Can we start over?” he asks.

Next chapter...

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breakingbranchesbella · 2 months

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Self-Indulgence; A Criminal Minds Multi-Fandom Fic

Also found on Wattpad, Quotev, and Ao3 under the name BreakingBranches.

CHAPTER 1 - Loose End

Season 1. Episode 15. Unfinished Business.

IT'S NO SECRET that the younger you are, the longer time seems to go. Once you reach your fourties' a decade feels like a fever dream. Cassandra was still a little far from that mark. She was still only twenty-six. Twenty-six and she had wasted eight years of her developmental life personally deteriorating her own psyche. Only to be spat out by the big green machine. Now, eight years wasn't a decade, but it was certainly a long time to spend running towards no light at the end of the tunnel.

The tunnel had ended. The light still wasn't there.

Cassandra wasn't suffering, not really. She wasn't stuck in an endless torture of her own mind. She had passed her evaluation. She had been cleared for the field. Twice now, given she was sitting in the stuffiest office possible with the worst fluorescence known to man. Maybe the second worst, and she would only know this from the memories that this little scene brought back. Except in these recounts, she was on the other side of the desk.

"Miss Lorayne, we ask that you answer these next few questions to the best of your ability. Do you understand what I mean by that?"

"I do."

————————————

There was an incessant buzzing in Cassie's pocket. At first, ignoring it had been her go-to solution. That hadn't worked. It still rang on. Over and over. And over again. Nothing but a frighteningly stimulating reminder of why she was here. Sometimes another person's kindness only serves to make you feel more helpless. Cassie had gone from a problem solver to a statistic in just twenty-five seconds. A few months later she was back to her protector role. The only difference was that this role didn't require her to move around every few months. Currently she was stationed in Quantico, Virginia. Sure, she had been given the warning that her days of freedom were seldom with this job. That traveling was still very much a constant, so much so they needed a personal jet. Having a house was just a new sort of feeling. Not a good one. Not a bad one either.

From police to FBI, oh how the mighty had fallen. Everyone had their opinion of each other in that part of the world. CIA, FBI, homeland security, the military, and all the way down to beat cops just trying to fill a quota. They all had their specific issues with one another. Sometimes it reached a point where the individual only cared because it was mob mentality. Cassie had her reservations, but she also had to have a job. Work till' you die, the American dream.

Physically, she was beyond qualified. Mentally, she met the requirements. Socially? That was going to be a fickle bridge to cross. One she was about to meet much sooner than she would have liked.

Today wasn't supposed to be her first day on the job, the role of a profiler and investigative specialist for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Much to her chagrin, it was going to be beyond easy. They had been assigned a case early in the morning, a Sunday. She wasn't given the full details, former serial killer, something about resurfacing. Something about an old vendetta. Something about a former agent who had spent the later half of his life obsessing over a lost case. Something, something, it was always something. Initially, Cassie was to be formally introduced to the team in a timely manner, in which it was supposed to negate any sour feelings or potential problems. Though since the jet was about to take off, she was unceremoniously given a pat on the shoulder, and a general gist of what she was up against.

However there wasn't enough time to prepare her for the mixed bag of people she was about to meet. Not entirely in a negative perspective, it all trailed back to her own social issues. She was easier to describe than them, and that was more often than not five simple words.

'Hard to get along with'

The muscled figure stepped onto the plane, inching her way through the first enclosed space. Once she was on the other side of the thin door she was met with six faces. Only one was vaguely familiar, the other five were total strangers. It wasn't hard to place vague description to the silent confused figures before her. Nerdy, jock, kind, snappy, old. That's about the most she processed. There was obviously a lot more that had been described to her, but looking at them now she decided to just boil it down to the bare minimum.

"Lorayne."

"Hotchner." Cassie stuck a hand out to shake his own. A firm grip meeting an even harder. Calloused fingers met better kept ones. He still had a wedding band on his finger, that was probably the only reason his skincare routine was better. Not that she had any to compete with.

Cassie had met agent Aaron Hotchner before. He was working on a case that bounced back and forth between military and federal jurisdiction. She was stationed in America at the time, a fateful meeting that didn't seem all that important so many years ago. Today she was unable to tell if she was thankful for it or not.

Green tinted eyes met hazel ones. The stare was neither aggressive nor polite. It was just that; a look. "How is Haley?" Hotch's wedding band was warm, he'd been white knuckling his fist all morning. At first she thought it might have been her arrival that sparked the odd tension in the plane, however when a seventh figure emerged from the back end, she realized she shouldered the blame pretty evenly. It didn't take an analyst to pick out he didn't belong here. He wasn't horribly anxious, but he rubbed the nail head of his pinky against his ring finger. He was angry about something. Most likely the liaison she was told would be joining the team temporarily. This was his old case. He'd have to feel some sort of guilt, nervousness, or pressure over this. After all in some way of describing it, it was his fault this guy was still out there. You'd never hear Cassie admitting such a thing out-loud.

Hotch's response about his spouse was interrupted by another voice. A heavy voice, it was filled with confusion. "Hotch?" Aaron turned, Derek was almost out of his seat now. His skin crinkled as his nose scrunched. A half a sneer. "Right, sorry." Aaron took a step to the side, he'd gesture over towards Cassie.

"This is the new agent, introductions were supposed to be more formal but..." Cassie could see the way he fought himself to not look towards the odd man out. She piped up. "Liberté, egalité, fraternité." Her pronunciation wasn't that far off. It sounded practiced. It was. "French revolution?" The skinny kid's brows knitted. His train of thought was derailed by the ever consistent Derek. "We all know that one. What the hell does it have to do with this though?"

Cassie shrugged, awkwardly rubbing her chin against her shoulder as she did so. "Something about sticking it to the man. I was supposed to start Monday, but they weren't entirely sure when the team would return. You're as upset about this meeting as I am." The atmosphere was honestly much kinder than most situations she had been in. But she was out of her element, a fish out of water. Here everyone seemed casual, when her normal was the very opposite. All eyes were on her. It took her another moment to understand why. Thankfully with the change in pace she didn't have to meet every confused gaze with a stiff position. She was allowed to be as informal as possible. Still, impressions mattered.

"Cassandra Lorayne, Cassie, Cass, I don't have much of a preference." Tan fingers flexed against her sides. Without her manual of squaring her shoulders, planting her feet together, and raising an arm to her forehead, she didn't know what to do. Aaron was nice enough to pick up the slack. He'd point with all five fingers towards each member. "Jason Gideon, Elle Greenaway, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau, and Max Ryan. Ryan was a part of the initial case eighteen years ago." At each call of their name the member would give some sort of wave or awkward smile, as if the pointing wasn't enough of an indicator.

The air about them gave away the notion that they weren't entirely aware of her indoctrination to the team. Cassie doubted it was sprung on them, but the concept was probably only batted around before more important things stole their attention away. Aaron had known for a while, he was the only one lacking any sort of surprise.

A few moments of people watching later and the jet was already taking off. Nobody sat properly, instead they'd shift their positions to sit around a clunky laptop that Derek was opening up. Dark fingers pads clacked against buttons, a small ringtone, and there was a woman on the other end. She had blonde hair and a very personal choice of fashion sense. "Talk to me sweetheart." Noone on the jet besides Max batted an eye at his nickname for the woman. Reid caught Cassie's confusion. A cautious smile paired with a tilt of her head led him to notifying her with two fingers half raised. "Penelope Garcia, our technical analyst." Cassie nodded. "Your oracle, yeah?" She'd murmur back to him. He didn't quite catch the reference. She didn't get a chance to explain it.

"Philly PD confirmed that Carla Bromwell's been dead less than twelve hours. She was forty-seven years old." Hotch and Morgan glanced between each other. "That's odd."

"Their age range is older."

Elle cut in. "Why would the victimology change?"

"That's not the only odd thing, she was found tied with flex-cuffs, not ropes." Everyone was a puzzled as the next person. "That's all I have for you, PD is waiting for you at the crime scene." Morgan just nodded and waved her off with another unprofessional comment. "Thank you baby girl."

It wasn't easy to tell whether Cassandra's perplexed expression was due to the new information, or Morgan's choice words for his coworkers. Reid would once again offer some lighting. "It's sort of their thing." It wasn't a very good answer, but a relation like that, one that hadn't violated any rules yet, wasn't something she was able to comment too much on as the newbie. Instead she'd take the high road and sit back with a thick file of the former case findings. Unlike most others on the jet, she didn't spend her time researching other murderers and serial killers. It wasn't from a lack of care, more the opposite. Her former job hadn't been much different, albeit more physical. But she tired from surrounding herself with the worst humanity had to offer. She'd seen both sides of the spectrum, but the most heinous interactions often crossed her desk. If she had put any free time into it, she would have taken the plunge several years ago.

Instead of a refresher, this was her first time seeing the details. She'd have to put a good amount of effort into reading up on it. Everyone else was familiar enough. The seasoned veteran of this particular killer didn't seem to keen on the help, which only created another barrier.

He wasn't stupid, and if Cassie could hear the way her newfound coworkers spoke about him, so could he. It wasn't anything unprofessional just voiced concerns. Cassie wondered if she had listened any longer when those same concerns would be made about herself. She didn't have the time to worry about some other's perception. The folder was thick, it smelled like freshly printed paper. Old records had been tracked down and republished, it beat searching up the initial documents.

She'd read over the whole thing twice before flipping back to the first police report and actually thinking about the words in front of her. By all accounts this new method of killing didn't seem to connect the previous offender. If it wasn't for the letter, nobody would have known. Which meant it was someone who wanted to do this, not someone who couldn't stop themselves. Which, Cassie had never found to be an accurate description of a murderer. She knew other profilers would classify that sort of person as an unwilling victim of their own urges. She liked to classify them as dead. But this was FBI, not the lawless land of the military. Blue jeans pressed against the back of leather seat covers, repositioning herself at the previous train of thought.

Why had he changed? It wasn't of his own accord, couldn't possibly be. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Her tongue caught between her teeth, sounding off a sort of clicking noise.

————————————

Carla Bromwell's home was filled to the brim. The news reporters and curious passerby's were enough to give Cassie a headache. The amount of detectives inside was another issue. She'd split off from the two most comforting figures to take a look at the body. Gideon and Elle were headed to the room as well. "Agents Gideon, Greenaway, and Lorayne." The department detective raised a brow, but he wasn't given time to push the subject matter when Max came into the room.

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

Cassie didn't listen to the rest of their conversation. She might have been interrupting something when she spoke. "It's been processed?" A simple nod was all that she'd need. Kneeling down near the body, Cassie would carefully move her wrists and neck. The photos were an obvious indication that this was a different methodology. Elle took over, repeating Cassie's steps. Maybe it was out of distrust. Maybe it was out of morbid curiosity. "There's no bruising."

"The note said 'no fight'." Cassie tilted her gaze up towards Elle. Who was currently distracted with something else. From the looks of it, one could only assume it was whatever Max had said. Bad first impressions, but Cassie was struggling to really care about how the older man felt about all of this. Her scrutiny wasn't solely just from blaming him, more so his attitude. She didn't like it. Which wasn't actually saying much given she didn't like a lot of things.

Gideon broke the tense silence. "The wound is extensive, it's violent, he's escalating." Elle went on a sort of goose hunt after that. Not that Cassie would have done any differently, but she just wouldn't have said it out-loud. Her ability to work with others wasn't nonexistent, yet it did need an update to the manual.

"Elle's good at this sort of thing Max."

"Never said she wasn't."

Leveraging herself with the nightstand, she'd use an arm to stand up and take a step back so Max could look at the body himself. There wasn't anything else the could learn from it without the forensics report. Ryan pressed a padded finger against the woman's clothes. "I haven't felt like this around a dead body in a long time."

Cassie didn't need to hear anymore. He was taking it too personally. The former MP was no saint, she had her fair share of cases that she wore too openly on her sleeve. She had grown since then, to some extent. And in the areas that she hadn't, she kept hidden.

As she was stepping out, Reid, Hotch, Elle, and Morgan were all coming back. Hotchner had a paper in his gloved hands. It didn't take a genius to guess what it was.

"In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present." Max had taken the note, intent on reading it with his own eyes. The note offered two more context clues, a quote from Max's book, and the promise of a gift in two days. It was all an attempt at riling the former agent up. The unsub was targeting him specifically. Either a grotesque fascination or the perfect means of getting him worked up. An on edge agent is an agent who can't do his job. It was working.

They weren't going to find anymore than that. The behavioral team led themselves outside, only to be greeted by more angry reporters and microphones in their face. Cassie weaved through the crowd and dodged into the closest car available to her. A black sedan with tinted windows, a rental, something for the team to use. The department was the next agreed upon stop, from there everyone had done just about the same as her.

Unluckily enough she had managed to pick the one vehicle that Morgan was driving. The leather smelt of some bad cleaning agent and the air was humid inside the van. Getting comfortable seemed impossible so she'd opted for the self meditating movements of pressing down overgrown cuticles with her thumb.

"So,"

She turned her head, her eyes lagging behind in the motion of facing him.

"So?"

"First day."

The car stalled to stop. Someone was taking too long to turn.

"Yep."

"That's all? No questions, comments, concerns? No issues?"

Cassie's light brown brows furrowed. "Should there be?"

"No."

"Then, no."

There was silence again. The conversation was over.

"But,"

Until it wasn't.

"Most aren't as enthusiastic to touch a body on their first day."

"CSI had already done what they needed to. I didn't see anything wrong with it."

Morgan let out an odd half-laugh, half-cough. "Again, I meant as enthusiastic." He'd tilt his head to the side, still facing forward as he spoke. His eyes never left the road ahead, but he made up for that with other movements. Every time he spoke his right pointer and middle finger would spread off of the wheel and point to who knows what. His right thumb tapped against the leather cover.

"I wasn't enthusiastic."

Her nose would crease with the rest of her face. An extended proof of her dissatisfaction over the comment, as if the quick change in tone wasn't enough.

"It was the first thing you did."

"But it's not my first time."

She watched as his bottom lip tucked under his front teeth.

"What did you do before joining the BAU?"

"You don't know?"

"I wouldn't ask if I did."

"This. Homicide investigation. We were all profilers, and detectives, and the law."

"Military?"

"Yeah. Aaron didn't say anything?"

"Didn't get the time to."

"Right."

There was no more talking after that. Further into the city streets Morgan would trade his hand motions for a thin pursing of his lips. Traffic was entertaining enough to drop any other questions he had. Or, Cassie just wasn't.

There was no time wasted between parking the rental and meeting with the other timely members of the unit. They made their way inside the sand colored building and pretty quickly they had the entire department working with them. Cassie would take a few steps towards the back, as though she were yet another officer these agents were preaching to. It wasn't only due to her new rank on the totem pole with the team. She was also a little jarred by how quickly they where to adhere to policy and comply. Then again, this was the bureaucratic process, not the militaristic.

Hotch lead the beginning of the profile, as he went on the others bounced off of him. They were a real unit. Real as hers used to be. Most likely better.

"Over the last two decades, our killer has changed. The age of his victims is more notable."

The head detective on the case shrugged his shoulders. "The keystone killer is older, his victims are older too. So?"

"Most killers have specific fantasies they act out through their violence. These people fall under an identifiable few categories. He liked young brunettes."

"And that means?"

Back to the BAU members, they worked fairly seamlessly. There was no indication of a turn, however nobody attempted to speak over the younger Dr. when he chimed in. A commentary on Ted Bundy. Cassie only hoped he was brought up due to his known name, and not some weird fascination. Reid would go on to explain even Bundy had a type, a type that when he started to neglect, lead to his ultimate capture. In the same vain, it lead to more violence.

Gideon raised both palms at an angle. "It could be a sign that he's devolving." As though there was some invisible speaking baton being passed between the group, their statements moved from one to another. First with Morgan. "Which could mean he's about to slip up. Though, the devolution theory is just that, a theory, we can't rely on it."

"If he is in a frenzy," Hotch interjected, taking the mantle of the conversation again. "We can't tell how fast he'll continue to devolve."

"Or how many more victims he'll take before he's finished." Gideon curled his mouth inward.

"So, in order to keep that number as low as we can, we need to go over everything. Everything we learned eighteen years ago, everything we got today."

The oldest of the BAU leaned back against a whiteboard covered wall. He steepled his fingers together. "We'll start with the older profile, Max," The latter turned away, shaking his head and waving the former off. Gideon sent a look towards Hotch, who cast it over to Cassie. Her eyes went wide, then they scrunched up. Russet colored lips pursed before a curtly nod was offered.

"Right the..." She thought, frowned, then continued speaking. "We're looking for a man in his forties now, white. He's thoughtful, meticulous. His former means of killing suggests a law enforcement or military background. Most likely he's stayed in the same area all of his life." Had she been speaking too much? She passed the proverbial stick with a look of confusion. Tossing it's invisible form into the air and hoping for the best.

Elle would come to the rescue. Then Morgan, then Reid, and back to Hotch for a closing statement. Gideon had meandered off after Max. At least, that was the most likely scenario. She couldn't really see the stern faced agent walking off just because he didn't want to present in front of the class anymore.

If he had, she wouldn't have judged. Her own presentation of the profile left a bad taste in her mouth. She wasn't used to this way of phrasing it. It felt clunky, unnecessary. She looked for evidence and facts, not probability. A profile wasn't unheard of in her investigative unit, but it wasn't relied on in the way it was here. Psychology was one thing, making up a killer in your mind was another. She was still skeptical. Openly so when she had been interviewed for the position. They felt her stance was a fresh look. She felt it was a pity situation.

After wrapping up the main idea, Hotch gestured for the team to follow him to a carved out space for them. The blinds were up, leaving the goings on inside of the room visible to everyone. Cassie didn't mind. The openness felt fresh. The sun could peak in through the windows. Her old office had been without windows, the light fixtures were bleary, the paint job reminiscent of a filing cabinet covered in dust. She much preferred it here.

She appreciated the two whiteboards. Even if it made the room more cramped, it allowed the youngest of the group to visualize his musings. In her past, she would have just strewn papers about her desk and hoped for the best. That seemed viable here too, but with so many members it might have gotten overwhelming. She glanced down at the wooden fixture. It already was.

"We should focus on the differences between the crimes, what's he doing that's new?" Hotch breezed past the group, yet another Manila folder in his hands.

Elle, Hotch, and Morgan opted to sit around the table. Reid stood, phasing in and out of his own little world when the conversation required it. Gideon was beside him, he put more of his eggs in the basket of the exchange. The self-certified genius was good at balancing them between the two. Cassie was comfortable standing as well, just on the other side of the room. "The victim was hit in the head, so that's one." Derek leaned back against his seat. "The note mentioned she didn't put up a fight, so why feel the need to hit her? To show dominance?"

Hotch shook his head. It didn't make sense. "He never needed to before." Elle thrummed her fingers along a photo of the crime scene. "But a hit like that wouldn't just scare her, it would knock her out."

"—To control her better." The head of the group finished.

Cassie's gaze flicked between each speaker, landing on Gideon as he found interest in the abyss. He stared towards a photo, but his head seemed somewhere else. "He switched from a knot, his signature, to flex-cufs."

"They're easier, it saved him time." Morgan kept his eyes on Gideon. He'd turn his head over his shoulders to catch Cassie's eye when he finished speaking.

"No, no, it's not that. The knot was intimate. It wasn't about the ease of immobilizing her. He chose a completely unnecessary approach."

"Maybe we should just forget about this, seriously. It's not helping us to go over what others already knew. Let's pretend he's a new offender."

The glass was cool against her arms, she'd trade her hands for her biceps when pushing off of the wall to step forward. A little brazenly, she let a few fingers fall to the head of Morgan's chair, pressing down and holding on as a sort of cane for her posture. "That's the problem, he's still the same person he was. We can't mull over what happened in the past, but we can certainly compare it to the future. He went from intimate, slow, methodical killings. He played out his fantasy with full physical control. So he traded it, for what? A smack to the head and a heavy lidded girl. He can't watch himself take the life from her eyes anymore. Where's the 'fun' in that." Cassie sucked in a breath through her teeth during her commentary. She let it go quickly as she ended.

"What I'm saying is—"

"—Guys, I have a name." All eyes moved from Cassie to Reid. She lifted her hand off of Morgan's chair and crossed her arms. Her hip dropped at an angle and she balanced more weight on her left leg.

"Nibrahs? What is that?" Reid bit the inner left part of his cheek at Elle's question. "It's backwards, S. Harbin. He was an original suspect."

"It's not him."

Max had finally made his entrance. He brushed off the conclusion, claiming Scott Harbin, S., had been in jail for stabbing someone. Sentenced thirty years, which meant there was no way it was him.

"Unless he's out on parole."

Max didn't seem to keen on the notion. "He's a pervert and a small time thief, he steals undergarments. I interviewed him, twice, he's no killer." There were a few exchanged looks. Morgan picked up his phone and nodded in Hotch's direction, who returned it with a nod of his own. "I'm going to call Garcia, see if she can find anything about him."

Max raised his voice, adamant that they were being lead down a dead end. A second wave of looks. Silence. Morgan left.

"Jason why are we here?"

"Hm?"

"Are we here to catch him, or just prove to Max he knows more than us?"

Nobody answered, because the only one who could had left. The four remaining didn't have a chance to pick up where Cassie had left off. Derek came back in with a shit-eating grin and a notecard with scribbles on it.

"We've got an address for Scott Harbin. He was paroled three months ago, missed his last hearing."

"That makes him a wanted man." Elle was already out of her seat, pulling her brown jacket over her shoulders.

Leaving the station house required a bit more than a few rental and squad cars. Priorities were higher, everyone was banking on the fact that this was supposed to be their guy. A killer to be put away. It still felt too easy. However, a dead end still pointed you to a different direction. They'd be negligent not to take it. No matter what was about to meet them on the other side.

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They'd been banking on the fact that this was their Keystone Killer, SWAT was going to be involved one way or another. It took a few extra moments to get their group in the door after the men in black. They took a more defensive stance and let the first three members of the BAU past. Elle and Cassie were at the forefront, the presence sent a silent figure to dart from behind a cabinet.

"Don't move— Hey!"

Elle practically vaulted past Cassie towards the man, grabbing him by his shoulder and sending a swift kick to the back of his leg. He stumbled over and she applied her weight to his back to apprehend him. "Are you Scott Harbin?" Cassie felt a hand on her shoulder, and instinctively she moved out of the way. Max looked down at the man being detained. "That's him."

"Nice to see you too Ryan." He'd smile up from his cuffed position. Cassie's brows met in the space between her eyes and tilted upwards. "You missed a parole hearing." Gideon commented. It was just an excuse, they had no reason to be here. They had no real evidence. A lawyer could dismiss his name in the riddle easily. But, an excuse bought them time and a search warrant.

The agents wandered through his home, picking up what they could just based on his arrangements. He was organized, neat, obsessively so. He needed constant control over every aspect of his life. It made a good argument. Cassie didn't like the feeling of it, though. She stood in front of him, her hands resting on her hips. Her expression gave a lot more away than just a train of thought. She bounced from theory to theory. Moss colored iris' scanned his form. Even going so far as to move behind him from where he sat in the arm of his couch. She couldn't see any injury to his hands. Nothing of note about his posture or physical capabilities. He moved his fingers back and forth, a squeezing motion, an attempt at self soothing. She didn't think this was the guy. As much of a creep as he was.

He looked out of the corner of his eye at her. "You finished checking me out?" Cassie locked eyes with him, nothing but disinterest on her face. She wasn't going to say anything, even if she was she wouldn't have had the chance. Elle made her way over, almost gesturing for Cassie to take a position behind her. The two were about the same height, maybe Elle had an inch or two on her. Cass was a little better built physically. Not a hulking mass of muscle, but you could see the beginning of a tone through her short sleeved shirt. She'd take the offer anyway and step around the two. Elle was leaning over in Scott's face, her eyes wide with something beyond disinterest. Fury maybe. "Did she upset you? Make you angry? What? You're fantasizing about hurting her, me? No, no you wouldn't do that. What's the matter Harbin, can't handle a woman who isn't afraid of you?"

Scott licked his lips. A sign of enjoyment, a sign of stress, it wasn't enough to tell just from the movement alone. Agitated, probably.

Gideon pulled Elle aside. Cassie didn't want to listen. She moved on from the room and up the stairs to the second floor of the home. A few SWAT agents still roamed, but she mostly watched as Morgan and Hotch moved back and forth. They stopped in the entrance of a room for a second. She waited, too many cooks in the kitchen. She wasn't needed anywhere right now.

"We need some help in here! Get an ambulance, now!" Morgan's voice was like an alarm bell ringing, everyone throughout the home heard it. Someone called out a response and raced down the steps past her. She was moving with similar urgency in the opposite direction. She was tall enough to see over their hunched forms, Hotchner and Morgan crouched near a woman. Her mouth had been taped shut, her feet tied at the ankles. She was wrapped in some sort of plastic. Awkwardly, Cassie shouldered Morgan to push him out of the way. She wormed herself between the two and pulled out a knife from her back pocket. Carefully she tilted the sharper side of the blade up towards the ceiling and worked it under the plastic. It took a bit of leveraging and gentle 'It's okay, you're okay, its okay' to get the knife to pierce the solution. Once she had it torn enough she moved to pull a blanket off of the bed above them. Hotch helped to cover the exposed woman as Cassie cut, leaving no room for any extended embarrassment.

The woman wasn't harmed besides a few bruises on her hips and thighs. That was good enough for Cassie. Once she finished peeling back the last of what was on top, she switched positions with Hotchner and pressed a hand against the woman's cheek. There were too many sounds, too many questions, too many voices, Cassie only focused on the lady's sobs. She did her best to murmur those same former phrases over and over again.

What felt like far too long of a time later, EMTs came into the room and pushed the three aside. Hotch left the building first, his cellphone indicating his attention was needed elsewhere are the moment. Morgan got out of their way, heading down the steps to reconvene with Gideon, Elle, and Max. Cassie stayed, she stayed until they were putting the victim on a stretcher and carrying her down the steps. She helped at the transfer point, holding the right corner of the stretcher near her head. She hadn't repeated her mantras in a while, the EMTs had picked up the slack for her. Once they could begin to wheel her out, the profiler let them go.

Philly PD wanted to be the ones to make the arrest. It looked better to the news reporters already gathering outside. Cass could only hope they had enough sense to not photograph the victim as she was being taken away, but she wasn't ignorant.

"It doesn't make any sense, he was a small time creep." Max let out a breath as he spoke. Gideon blinked. "He fits your profile, the age, the background, the obsessive traits."

"Still—"

"Guys." Cass pulled a slip of paper out of the wipers of one of the rental cars. "It's.. for you," She passed it to Max.

Isn't Scott an inelegant monster. He harbors no light. He is pure evil. Balance is what produces mercy. You'll be reminded of my mercy tomorrow.

K.K.

"We didn't get him?" Everyone had started to gather now. The pause was enough to spark concern. Morgan spoke first, Gideon answered. Max was too stuck in his head, going over everything yet again. He was reliving the chase from eighteen years ago. It wasn't pretty. "He's not the one we're looking for. Form a six block perimeter, we have to have seen him."

But they hadn't. Nobody had. He had been right outside, waiting for the exact moment the police would file in like ducks after their mother. He had slipped off without anyone the wiser. The atmosphere on the way back was bleak. Everyone shared a similar sentiment of frustration. Cassie couldn't feel proud of her observations from earlier, it had only served to get off the sick freak who was orchestrating all of this. It sentenced another victim to a worse fate. The BAU's methods made her feel stagnant, like she had no more control over what was about to happen than a leaf did over the way the winds blow.

"That's got to be a first for the BAU, a killer leading us to another." Hotch commented as the made their way back to the little room they were given for mediation. "No, we all know they make the best profilers, it's how they find their own victims. It's how they think they can get away with it." The oldest would correct.

"So we're starting over. Run by it again, what do we know about the Keystone Killer?"

"He's not dead, or in jail."

"He likes playing with us, he's treating it like a game where he's controlling all of the pieces." Elle raised her head as she spoke. Then Morgan, then Reid.

"He strangled seven women in the late eighties, stopped for eighteen years, then picked it back up again. Only this time he chose to suffocate them. Ten percent of violent crimes are carried out through strangulation, it only takes eleven pounds to incapacitate a person. Hanging on for a minute longer and that person will never recover." The skinny kid's ramblings weren't bad. Cassie could admire them for what they were worth. He was smart. Probably smarter than she'd ever be. The only difference was he learned his facts through textbook, and she earned hers through practice.

"But, he suffocated his latest victim. It's actually more passive than strangulation. What Lorayne was saying earlier, he can't feel the life leave the body." Aaron reaffirmed.

"But why? Why, why, why? Why change his MO, it suggests a blitz attack, yet in the past he walks right into his victim's homes without so much as a struggle."

Cassie's face lit up, her expression almost elongating in a moment of realization. She had never finished her train of thought from before. They had been so distracted with Scott Harbin that she had just forgotten nobody else was thinking the same as she was.

"We keep talking about this as though he's doing it on purpose, but what if it's not. What if something happened that stopped him. A sole loss of confidence isn't enough for such a drastic change. He lost his confidence in his own abilities, not his means of killing. A few years ago I was on a case that involved a serial murderer, similarly to this guy's MO. Maybe a little less showy— in any case, he started to slip up when he changed. And he only changed because he had been in a supply moving accident. Lost all control of his dominate hand. Couldn't kill the way he wanted to. He found another way, but it was sloppy, witnesses were around, we caught him."

Morgan leaned against the wall where Cassie had once stood. "So it's an injury?"

"Or a stroke." Hotch looked to Reid, who shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Either one, there will have to be some sort of medical records, right?" Derek didn't really agree with Gideon. "Alright, so an accident after nineteen eighty-eight in Philidelphia, that doesn't lower our suspect pool by much at all."

"It's too many hospital records." Spencer finally answered.

"Call Garcia anyways, see what she can find." Pointing towards the exit, Gideon gestured to Morgan.

It took a few minutes for Morgan to return, he had a slanted smile. Not good, not bad. "There's a lot of records to go through. Garcia's having them sent over now."

Hotch moved towards the fax machine as it sounded off, indicating the first few pages. "Let's get started then." He'd grab a couple, pass them around, and repeat until everyone had a handful. Cassie still didn't sit with her pile, she'd let it sit off on the top of a cabinet next to her while she looked through whatever her current file was.

Morgan tossed down a few papers, a frown on his dark lips. "We're looking for a guy in his twenties, is that too early for a stroke?"

"I still think it's a possibility. We're looking for a fair amount of loss of mobility." Aaron didn't look up from his stack. Reid did however, happily explaining the statistics around strokes. Something or other, Cassie brushed it off with a laugh that sounded more from her nose than it did her mouth.

"Hm?"

Reid was staring at her now. So was Hotch and Morgan. She shook her head, biting the inner flesh of her cheek as she did so. They all went back to their own files.

Twenty-five minutes in and it felt a little hopeless. The records Garcia had given didn't narrow it down at all. Sure a few names were marked off, but then again too many to count were added. "This is taking too long. Just for a moment let's rule out strokes, what's something else that could have happened?" Cassie mimicked Morgan's earlier frustrated motion and tossed her papers down.

"A car accident would have to be filed in police records, especially if it resulted in injury, right?" Spencer tried to pick up where she was leaving off. Gideon and Max nodded.

"Back then we profiled him to have some sort of American-made sedan."

"Alright, then why don't I call Garcia back, have her cross reference sedan accidents with Philly PD records. That should narrow it down significantly with what we've established."

"It's a long shot." Ryan seemed on the verge of rolling his eyes at Morgan, a slip of a few words from Cassie halted that means of response. "It's better than nothing."

For the third time that day, Morgan would return from his little 'chat' with Garcia. Only this time he seemed a lot more proud of himself. "'Think I've got something; Walter Kern, fits our age range, military background. ROTC, Air Force, his accident happened right outside of Bromwell's address."

He passed the already printed document around. Cassie skimmed over it. He certainly looked like the type. "In his accident he lost mobility of his right side due to spinal cord and nerve damage." Veiny hands rolled up dove-white sleeves as he spoke.

Cassie watched as the invisible stick returned to the playing field. It was Hotch's turn. "He installed home alarms with, guess who, Scott Harbin."

She sought to grab it before it was taken by someone else. "That's how he could walk right in to his victim's home without issue." And as quickly as she had it, it was taken by Elle. Tapping her pencil against the paper, she'd flick it back and forth with her ring finger. "He got his major in criminology. Shows to how he was able to evade law enforcement."

And from Elle to Gideon, "Do we have an address?"

"575 Wight Street Southeast Philadelphia. Got you, you son of a bitch."

That was probably the first time Max had smiled in the day that Cass had known him. There was no time to mull over it, once again the team was up and moving. SWAT was hesitant, they had failed to catch him the first time, leniency wasn't on their side. Neither was the press.

Cass was stuck with Morgan again, Reid too, though he kept to himself in the back of the car.

"You were right."

Again she was stolen from her thoughts by the brawny driver.

"Is that shocking?"

"Well, not when you phrase it like that. I was trying to compliment you, you know."

"Oh."

"That's it?"

"No, I was trying to think of something to reference that you would understand."

"Like?"

"A philosophical quote, nothing good came to mind. That's not exactly my thing."

Reid was about to say something and Morgan had that look in his eyes through the rear view mirror, something that screamed break-check. Reid no longer had anything to say.

"What is your thing then."

"Nothing really. Oh, I guess something along the lines of I'm the Chandler to your Phoebe, though that's a bit of a stretch. I only watched a few— Nevermind."

Morgan gave a dumbfounded look, but didn't press the issue. There were bigger problems than whatever Cassie got up to in her limited free-time.

Gideon and Max took the lead on the entry of the home this time. It was almost deserved.

They knocked once.

No answer.

Twice.

No answer.

It was bordering on three when the door finally swung open. A woman in her later fourties' answered, she had short brown hair and a tired face. Makeup, jewelry, her clothes were ironed. Cassie's nose crinkled.

"This is agent Ryan with the FBI, we need to speak with your husband." The woman quickly looked away. She was sheepish, confused. She'd stutter out a response to Gideon. "He's not here."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Well, I,"

"Why don't you let us inside?"

She stuttered, again, failing to form any coherent sentence. She'd nod anyways and the team followed inside. His wife said something about volunteering at a community center. Gideon notified Hotch, to which Cassie gently pressed her fingers to his raised elbow. He looked at her, doe-like eyes squinting in confusion. She took a step back and mumbled. "Don't send everyone there. He's still intent on giving us that 'gift'." Jason looked her up and down once, then complied without saying anything in response to her.

Max had let the reason they were there slip, the murders, the seven victims.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, please." She didn't take very kindly to the notion. Then again no good person would. "What you're suggesting is absurd, and,"

"—I don't think you believe that Mrs. Kern." Cassie took a step closer to the woman. She was taller than her. Height helped in most cases she had been on before.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't think you believe that your husband has nothing to do with this. You're dressed awfully nice, he likes you that way doesn't he. Modest, untouchable. Though, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that last part isn't true."

"Lorayne," Gideon warned. She should have listened, should have stopped talking. This was her first day, her first case, she had everything to lose. And yet so did an innocent girl.

"I'm guessing he has a space in the house, a room, an area, a closet, a chest youre not supposed to touch. Don't look inside of, don't even think about. If you did, Walter would get angry, wouldn't he?"

The wife took a step back. Cassie took a step forward. She looked anywhere but the agent's face. "He has a photo-room, but he only worries that I'll mess up his pictures. That's all."

"Eighteen years ago you noticed your husband fell into a depression, it seemed like it would never end. Maybe he was more irritable. You were thankful on one hand, he couldn't hit you if he wanted to. But he wasn't the same. Just a few days ago he returned back to his old self, for better and for worse."

"How do... no, what does it mean? Did he..?" Cass blew a quick puff of air out of her nose and stepped off to the side. She had said all she needed to.

"We need to see that room Mrs. Kern." She didn't miss the way Gideon followed her with a grim expression as he spoke.

SWAT was the first to clear the cellar on the left side of their home. It was cold, but well kept even from a quick glance at the stairway. Heading further into it lead to a room covered in photos, newspapers, anything relating to the case. He had a copy of the book Max had written about his experiences as an agent. He was a textbook stalker. Countless photos of past and present victims framed the steel-toned stone.

Reid flipped through a scrapbook looking binder. A collection of his killings, a story. There was a chapter missing, like he had referenced in his notes before. He wasn't finished, he had only killed Carla now because he had planned to kill her before. His accident had stopped him. It explained the extended depression. His fix wasn't just the killings, it was the perfection behind them. The consistent evasion, the methodology.

"Who's in the latest chapter then?"

"Sylvia Gooden."

Gideon stepped back into the room, he looked down at the image of the woman. "Hotch confirmed Walter left the community center an hour ago. We need Gooden's address."

Thankfully, for as much as a memorabilia fanatic he was, he included everything there was about these women. Including addresses.

The team was on the new sight as fast as possible, SWAT and Philly PD were right on their heels. It didn't take longer than a handful of seconds for them to be suited up and ready. Gideon confirmed Walter's vehicle was a block down the street. Preparations to go in were moving fast. Max raised his voice so the crowd of people could hear him.

"I want him taken in alive."

Which as fun as that sentiment was, it wasn't always a good one. They didn't have a clue what state they'd find Kern or Gooden in. Her life may come down to his. And while rotting in prison before his sentence was earned was the best possible outcome, Max needed to grapple with the fact he might not see satisfaction.

The blur of guns and combat boots breezed through the main doorway. Clearing each room was impertinent, and so was following the screams they could hear from Sylvia above. Gideon lead, followed by Morgan, Max, and Cass. Gideon trained his gun eye level before pushing open the door. There must have been eight voices, all yelling some different version of the same thing; 'Don't Move.'

Morgan detained Kern. He'd purposefully bash his side off of a full length mirror. A feasible accident excuse would work just fine. Cass made out the hand off to Max from behind her. Kern spoke of the former agent like some star crossed lover. She tried not to pay too much attention to it.

Currently calloused fingers were preoccupied in removing the plastic from Sylvia's face. She brushed her thumb against the older woman's forehead, checking to make sure the blood that was leaking was also clotting. It had already started to dry, she hadn't been hit too badly. Most likely because she had struggled too much for Kern's liking.

"Shh.. shh.. it's okay, you're okay. My name is Cassandra Lorayne, alright Miss Gooden? You're not hurt anywhere else, right?"

The blonde woman shook her head. Her body was trembling. She was sweating, her skin was clammy. It was taking her a bit longer to get the words out of her sob choked throat. Cassie didn't rush her. She'd repeat what she had done with the previous victim hours earlier. A gentle seesawing motion of her knife and the flex-cuffs were off.

"Breathe with me Miss Gooden."

She was sitting up now, her shoulders heaving with another heavy cry. Cassie moved from her kneeling position to sit beside her. She pulled the woman closer and sheltered her within her arms. "You're okay, it's over now, you're okay." And she'd repeat those words for as long as she could. As long as it took for them to feel real.

————————————

Cassie was still getting accustomed to the whole private jet thing. It felt too classy, even if half the participants aboard had already slipped off their shoes and curled up under a blanket. Sometime she'd have to find wherever that stash of linens was. Though, for now, she was preparing herself for an earful. Gideon was moving from his seat to her end of the plane. He was at least kind enough to ensure the only one listening was Elle. To which Cassie couldn't mind too much, she felt a sort of solidarity in their methods, so hopefully the other brunette wouldn't be too abrasive in the aftermath of her scolding.

"You really think he beat her?"

"What?"

She had always been told to never play poker. Which was a sad comment given she was actually great at the game, just not great at her expressions. She could hold out in situations that called for a stern, unwavering face. But right here, right now, she was too wound up to keep her feelings to herself. Crinkled features gave a pretty good indication that she was absolutely taken aback.

"I asked a question Lorayne."

"Err, honestly? No. She didn't give away all of the signs, just some. Some is enough to incite a thought, and a thought is enough to be a fear. Even if he hadn't, she had rationalized that he could. Or, would, if she crossed a certain line."

"Alright."

"Alright?"

Gideon turned to sit down, he was done with the conversation. She'd outstretch a hand to say something else, but recoiled and changed her mind.

JJ had an open seat across from her, and Cassie would find comfort in the openness that followed.

"Have any of you been told about the time that Gideon was tricked into. . ."

So, this was her new home. For lack of a better phrase. It would take some time to fit in, and more effort still. Though, Cassie was able to let go of her fear for just a moment. It was the first time that day she had stopped thinking about the past, and hoped for the future.

————————————

Date Posted: 04/24/24

Not Yet Proofread, too lazy :(.

Next Chapter: 05/02/24

#criminal minds #bau team #spencer reid #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #elle greenaway #jj jareau #dr spencer reid #oc #original character #multifandom account #x reader #jason gideon #hannibal lecter

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calsvoid · 5 days

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writing meme: about me

i got tagged by @lusthurts so thank you for that <3

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

ive been into writing for years before i got into fanfiction specifically so i guess just from reading fanfiction i guess, but if you want a longer story, i got more interested in writing from roleplaying on amino and got into fanfiction because the fandom i was in at the time got OBSESSED with this one popular work and i just HAD to check it out

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

officially, my ao3 account only has glee works rn but i do have a 911 fic im working on and i do want to venture into more fandoms, but i don’t really have the confidence to do so yet

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

i’ve been trying since 2020 to be more of a fanfic writer but never actually got anything solid until 2023 so 1-4 years depending on how you see it

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

definitely read im a slowass writer and part of that is because im too busy reading fanfiction instead of writing

5. What is one way you've improved as a writer?

overall in the years i’ve been a writer, i feel like i’m better at portraying characters as well rounded and creating characters that aren’t just one stereotype. when it comes to my time as a fanfic writer, im better at writing actual scenes rather than just random narration

6. What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

the probability of survival when falling from certain heights. also ohio the glee writers were cruel for making their show based in fucking ohio of all places

7. What's your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

i’m honestly not picky i love all types of comments, but if i really had to choose, it’d probably be any that point out a specific part or line or whatever in my writing. it makes me so happy when people have some detail stick with them

8. What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

i honestly haven’t done anything too intense in my writing i think the most out there i’ve gotten is just emotional infidelity and that’s just standard for seblaine. i do plan on killing blaine in one wip of mine, but it’s just an idea for now because i’ve got other shit to focus on

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

longer stories are literally impossible for me. i absolutely SUCK at writing anything longer than a couple thousand words and even that is hard for me. smut is also hard but that’s because i haven’t bothered to write smut, so different vibes

10. What is the easiest type?

well if you see how many hurt no comfort fics i’ve published it’s obvious fluff is what i’m best at. but yeah short vignette angsty stories are super easy for me to write. it’s just 50% projection and 50% exaggeration and 100% gay, so no problem there

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

i often write at home, on my notes app, at any point of the day, and i post all my stuff on ao3. i will sometimes edit on my laptop on google docs, but i get lazy too and so my latest fics have been mostly raw and unedited.

12. What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

smut and literally any ship that isn’t seblaine and also longer works. i’d love to be one of those writers who comes out with these multi chapter masterpieces but i’m just not right now. i’ve had ideas for other ships too, but i never really flesh them out because they’re usually stuff that would span across thousands of words and i don’t have the time, energy, nor skill level to do that yet. and again, for smut, i just never bother, and while i think im never going to be the explicit sex scenes type of writer, i love the angst potential of it

13. What made you choose your username?

acedisgrace is a name i’m like 85% sure i saw a joke about from a stolen tumblr post on instagram and i was like hey im asexual and a disappointment haha what if i change my discord name to that and then eventually when i got an ao3 account, i just went with it because i saw it was available there too. as for calsvoid, they’re my initials and i spew whatever bullshit i want on tumblr and also i wish i didn’t have a body and instead was an amorphous blob of nothingness

i don’t really know who to tag that i haven’t already seen tag so anyone who would like to do this can

#ask

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paddockbunny · 1 year

Text

✨ ANNOUNCEMENT!!! ✨

Ok ok…..I have had this specific Pierre story in mind for a while. The only problem is, I get really in my head with multi-chapter fics and put a lot of pressure on myself to write in-depth long ass chapters and struggle with writers block a lot with them.

However….I have already written the first three chapters of this little story I’ve been musing over and I’m in between posting and keeping it for a later date.

So here’s the synopsis :

Bets were stupid. They were too full of risk and fuelled by idiotic naivety. Nothing good ever came of making bets. And certainly not if the person you were making them with was Pierre fucking Gasly.

So when Aria Armund - his newest “babysitter” - came up with the idea to make a bet that Pierre wouldn’t be able to keep out of trouble till the end of the season, she didn’t think he would actually bite!

If Aria won she would get the satisfaction in knowing Pierre was EXACTLY what she presumed he was.

If he won….he gets to have her, for one night, doing whatever he wants.

Let me know what you think!!!

🥰💕🙏🏼 .

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frownyalfred · 10 days

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Hi, I wanted to tell you that you are a great writer and you are truly an inspiration! <3 Can I ask you for some advice? I would like to start publishing my stories too but I have a lot of stupid doubts about it, I really don't know how to get unstuck. Particularly because I am not a native english speaker. I especially struggle with writing multi-chapter stories, because I have the overall story or some specific scenes in mind but get stuck when I have to connect it all. I hope I haven't bothered you and I congratulate you again on your writing! <3

Thank you so much! I’m glad you’re out here writing! The things you’re describing are very common hesitations or issues I’ve seen on here and ao3.

My advice is to just start posting. It doesn’t need to be good. The stories can be chunks or just one chapter at a time. You can still be working on the plot of a WIP when you post the first two sections, etc. But start posting, start getting in the rhythm of it. Because if you sit back and never post anything ever, you’ll never know what will happen, right?

Post as much as you can, read other fics and decide what you like or don’t like about them, and keep trying to improve your writing! Once you’re in that cycle, a lot of the problems you described up above are ameliorated.

When it comes to certain fics, I can tell very quickly if an author is not a native English speaker. But that has rarely if ever stopped me on its own, and I don’t believe it stops a lot of readers either. You don’t have to be perfect, and sometimes nailing perfect english takes your energy away from the story itself. I’m not going to tell you not to worry about it, but I am going to tell you that sometimes, it doesn’t matter as much as we’d think.

#asks #anon #writing #myfic #theresurrectionist

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rayofmisfortune · 6 months

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HEYYY I'm Ray!

I'm an enby aroace thingy who writes fics on ao3 :3c

Current fandoms of interest are FNAF (specifically the DCA) and the Sun and Moon show, Lies of P (sideblog: @lies-of-ray), Danny Phantom and other fandoms like Sonic, Lego Monkie Kid, Ninjago, Genshin Impact, Honkai Starrail, Cuphead, ROTTMNT, TMNT 2012, Bendy, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Hollow Knight and probably some more I don't remember off the top of my head heh I do reblog stuff from other fandoms as well, don't post anything for them myself though (that's a lie, I sometimes do) Thought it would be nice to make a lil pinned post to keep track of all my stuff, including but not limited to fics, aus and so on!

List of fanfics:

Game DCA fics

Found Your House up in Flame Multi-chapter fic Word count: 16,710

A shoulder to cry on One-shot Word count: 2,157

TSAMS fics

Rusted joints - TSAMS Ruin Eclipse one-shots

New year, new me (or is it really?) One-shot Word count: 3,318

You'll be back, soon you'll see One-shot Word count: 2,273

Christmas, only once a year One-shot Word count: 4,213

Endless Cycle One-shot Word count: 1,801

When I'm Gone One-shot Word count: 1,285

Bendy fics

The Escape Gone Right (on hiatus) Multi-chapter fic Word count: 4,998

List of AU's

Daycare Attendant AU's

Found your house up in flame au > Can be found under the #fyhuif or #found your house up in flame tags > A DCA au, taking up shortly after the Pizzaplex fire. Follows the DCA as they try to find their way through the ruined Pizzaplex! With a few challenges standing in their way, surely those won't pose a problem, will they? > Available content: fanfiction, as seen above, art posts

A Helping Hand au > No distinct tag as of writing this post > Ruin DLC au, basically a ''what if Eclipse tagged along for the ride'' kind of deal. > Available content: fanfiction as seen above, additional content TBD

Mer au > Can be found under the #mer au tag (no distinct au name as of the time writing this) > A collab AU between myself and @sir-qwillian-ferne > Available content: art posts

Flavordrops au > TBD

DI au > TBD > Collab au with @sir-qwillian-ferne

SD au > TBD

TSAMS AU's

Fireboy and Watergirl au > Can be found under the #fireboy and watergirl au tag as well as #wamoon and #solare for the characters of Moon and Solar respectively > A TSAMS au, taking off during the 'Eclipse's HORRIBLE PUZZLE in VRChat' video. Moon and Solar get turned into fireboy and watergirl > Available content: art posts > Ask box for this au is open!

Rusted Joints au > No distinct tag as of writing this post > An AU centered around my interpretation of Ruin Eclipse > Available content: fanfiction, as seen above

Deleted!Solar au > Can be found under the #deleted!solar tag > An AU in which Solar wasn't entirely erased, his code is not longer compatible with any dimension. He now resides in a space "Inbetween" (I'M COPING) > Available content: art posts

[This post will be edited!]

#pinned post

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k-s-morgan · 1 year

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Pinned Post

This is going to be a pinned post: all updates, replies and reblogs will take place below) Just wanted to tackle some common questions & requests I get.

Blog readability

My blog has long since become a multi-fandom space. If you want to see posts about specific fandoms and you don’t want me to clutter your dash with discussions you aren’t interested in, please block the corresponding tags.

For Hannibal fandom: hannigram, hannibal

For Black Butler: sebaciel, black butler, kuroshitsuji

For Harry Potter: tomarry, harrymort

For Batman: batman, batjokes

For Devil Judge: gahan, the devil judge, lawful husbands

Asks & support

I welcome practically all kinds of asks, the only problem I have is with antis. I’d rather not explain why fiction preferences have no relevant impact on reality, so if you think about asking these questions, please don’t)

Also, if you want to justify Ruzzian aggression against my country, Ukraine, then I’d appreciate not seeing this. I won’t reply to such asks.

Sometimes it takes me a really long time to reply, but please rest assured that I read and care about every ask I receive. If you suspect that Tumblr might have eaten your question, you can send me a follow-up message with a reminder, I don’t mind!

If you can and want to support me financially and/or you’d like to read 10 chapters of my original dark romance novel: here’s my Patreon. I set it up as a version of Buy-me-a-coffee because PayPal wasn’t accessible in Ukraine. You can contribute $1 or change it to any amount you want & cancel the subscription or keep it up for whatever period of time you prefer.

Now I also have PayPal: [email protected]

An important note to this: I’m doing more or less okay at the moment, so there is nothing urgent happening. However, war has brought many negative changes into my life, and I deeply appreciate any help I get.

Fic recs & Other recs

(I’ll keep updating these posts when I can)

Original books that I loved

Fic recs based on a fandom

A list with TV shows that some of you recommended and which I watched

#personal #pinned post

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writingjourney · 3 months

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Hi, I really love your writing! :3 i hate to be a bother, but do you think you have any advice for me? I want to write some fics of my own. Short ones mostly, but I still keep running into various problems. I'm good at description and I'm decent at dialogue for the most part, but when it comes to actually moving a scene forward and making things happen, or even just moving from one scene to the next, I have absolutely no idea how to proceed. Like, everyone present at the time just ends up talking in circles without managing to say anything new or pertinent. And even when I have every major bit that I want to happen planned out, I cannot figure out how to actually get it to each point or even to A point at all. At any rate, thank you for your time, even if you don't respond to this, and I hope you have a good day/evening :)

Thank you anon ♡ Sorry I was a little busy today so I didn't have any time to properly reply until now!! You're not a bother at all, I love to talk about writing!!!! Some more in-depth thoughts below the cut :)

I definitely know what you mean. It's hard to keep scenes concise while also making sure the pacing is neither too fast nor too slow and adding the details you want in there without rambling on. Pacing depends on the scene and the story you want to tell (faster pace for action, slower pace for calmer moments, more description/longer scenes = slower pace etc etc) – you can shorten or stretch scenes as much as you want to. You definitely should be following your own style and not try to adapt to what you think a fic/story in general should look like.

That being said, I get that sometimes you want to move a scene forward and it doesn't always work out. Usually, this happens to me when I am not very excited about what's happening right now and need a change (or I don't know what happens next). You can start working on a scene that excites you more. I am a bit chaotic like that, I just write out scenes and dialogue lines and paragraphs as they come to me and then I just link them up later. You can link scenes by time-skipping, by adding some introspection, a character's observations etc. And yes, show don't tell is good advice but not every single thing always needs to be written out in detail and sometimes you just have to say that it's the next day and move on.

Or... well, you literally change the scene at hand. Have the characters get interrupted if they can't wrap up the convo, someone disturbs them, one of them realizes they have an appointment, it suddenly starts to rain – throw stuff at them that makes them become active again. Sometimes re-writing helps as well. Not editing, rewriting. Keep the OG draft but write the scene again from scratch. We get so attached to lines we've written we don't always check to see if they still fit. Push stuff around, change the order of things, just try on some changes and see if it flows nicer.

Another thing I can recommend if you want to go from BIG scene to BIG scene is to add some smaller scenes for transition. I like to do this, make the character reflect on the events while doing some menial task, have them meet someone else and have the reflection happen via conversation, have them just observe their surroundings, have them dedicate some time to their hobby – it all gives us new info about the character and it won't feel as much like BAM BAM BAM big scene after big scene. Quiet before the storm.

Now, you said you want to write short fics, so I'm not sure if you mean just drabble/ficlet type of stories or more elaborate one-shots instead of longer multi chapters like I sometimes do? The key I would say to a very short fic is to start off strong. Jump straight into the scene and don't be scared to omit the backstory and descriptions, it's hard but if you want to keep it short it's necessary to really think about which descriptions make sense. I'm not good at super short fics usually unless I'm possessed by one specific scene that doesn't need much context, so perhaps I'm not the best to ask.

For one shots with multiple shorter scenes I think you need to also just be brave and skip around. Scenes don't always need long transitions, sometimes it's a few days later when the next notable thing happens and that's where you continue. Again, I think strong scene openers really help here. Draw the reader into the next scene and they won't even notice. You can always add more description later should it feel clunky. Read the transitions aloud, that also helps to see if they flow nicely.

I hope this was any help at all. Please feel free to ask again if something is unclear, if I should go into more detail for some of it or you have any other questions :) ♡

#asks #anon #writing things

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dayseternal-blog · 11 months

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One your asks inspired this thought of out me.

Idk if Icebergs are still popular, but does a NaruHina Fic Iceberg post sound fun to you?

Basically, there's like 5 or 6 tiers (there should be a template readily available in google images) and you assign specific media (in this case, NH fics) to each tier, descending from tame tho troubling to 'stare into the abyss'-level awful. 😅

I'm just super curious now, haha. 🤪 Baiee~

I worked on this for a couple of days! Fun~

uhhh click for hopefully better quality?

The order of the fics within each category sorta matters to me, but if I thought about it harder, I'd probably change things around, so the order's not that important. And in general, the categories go from NaruHina getting hurt, to NaruHina hurting others, to NaruHina hurting each other. With a few exceptions! But if someone else were to rank this, they might categorize things differently.

It's all just my feeling. As you can see. By the category titles.

Congratulations to Sessakag, Sadistic One, BlackMajjicDuchess, and DemonOfTheFridge for scaring me the most hahahahahaha 💀

Looking at this and one would think I love freaky stories lol

I read it for the curious cat to be killed.

I have all the stories linked below :)

Darkly Mysterious, Worrying 😥

“White Kunai” by @magmawrites - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. A series of violent rapes and murders targeting long, dark haired, young women have caught the attention of the Hokage. Her plan? Use a qualified, long, dark haired kunoichi as bait. The only one that fits the criteria? Hinata.

“a home is a dream” by bluebeardsbrides - Rated M, Modern AU, One-shot. Naruto Uzumaki returns home with all the force maelstrom, three days after her husband’s disappearance and six years since she went and stumbled on Neji’s body floating in the creek downtown.

"Dark Shift" by brown phantom - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. After a solo mission goes horribly wrong, something happens to Naruto. His mask of happiness turns dark and cruel, and he turns against the village he had sworn to protect. Can he be returned to normal before it's too late?

“Distorted Minds” by Cheating Death - Rated E for graphic violence, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Her lavender eyes slowly opened, her vision blurry and distorted for a few moments as she tried to look around. It was then that she realized that she was suspended a few inches off the ground, her wrists cuffed in cold, metal shackles that hung from the ceiling.

Disturbing, Unsettling, Cursed 😶

“Asylum AU” from “Tales of Two Ninjas” by magmawrites - Rated M, Modern AU, One-shot. What’s to say what’s real and what isn’t? The only thing that’s valid and true in all universes is their love for one another.

“Burn The House Down” by @secrettastemakerland - Rated G, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. Naruto shrugged, not really having an answer. He had tried to tell her they had bigger problems.

"Go Home, Start Again" by @bunny-hoodlum - Rated E, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. My submission for NH2020 February's theme "Time Loop".

"Stay" by @nightowl27-writer - Rated E, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. The basement holds much more than ashes and secrets. As urban legends come to life, people begin to disappear, and a city sits on the brink of disaster. When everything seems to be falling apart, will Hinata find the answer to the question she is terrified to ask?

Weird, Shocking, & Crazy 🤪

“His obsession” by agitosgirl - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Naruto loved her, he loved her with everything he had and more. And when he gets back from his training trip, he’s going to show her how much he cherishes her. And she is going to be with him. Whether she wants to be or not isn’t really her choice.

"Qui Laudavit" by Avelona-and-Sally - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. One side-effect of having a demon sealed in you is a taste for blood. Another is the ability to make living and dead alike do your bidding. Which comes in handy when your girlfriend keeps dying.

“October - Horror” by @chloelapomme - Rated T, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. When despair turns into a feeling of love so intense that obsession is the only thing that can help you protect the one you love.

“Her” by browniefic - Rated E, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Naruto’s had a lot of obsessions in his life. But he knows she’s different.

"A Woman's Heart" by Ookami88 - Rated E, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. Naruto lies in hospital in coma. Sasuke is locked in prison for his crimes. Hinata comes up with a plan that will ensure her beloved man's happiness, no matter how much it'll cost her.

“A Love Never Seen” by HoneyWriter78 - Rated E and has rape/non-con, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata Hyuga attend Konoha High she is part of the athletics group. She is friends with Ino and Shikamaru but is secretly in love with Shikamaru who is oblivious and loves someone else. She tried to fight her feelings not noticing that a certain senpai has had his eyes on her…

“There’s a new psycho on the block” by agitosgirl - Rated M for mentions of sex, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete/Inconclusive Ending. What happens when it’s Hinata who’ goes crazy? Years of torment and abuse by her family’s hand have caused this young girl to lose her mind, and to top it off, her mother left her a gift that will make her enemies, or just anyone she chooses to target, regret meeting her.

"Lost Souls" from "NaruHina Month December 2022" by @sessakag - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. They set off on a journey that’d one day bring them back to their place of birth, and on that day, they’d enact the plan that had given them a sense of purpose.

"Ravenous" from "NaruHina Month December 2022" by sessakag - Rated E, Modern AU, One-shot. “Hinataaaa,” Naruto pouted, leaning inside the open bathroom door, “you ready yet? I’m starving!”

Explicitly Appalling 😨

“Side Effects” by Cheating Death - Rated E for smut, dub-con, & non-con, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. You can easily skip the rape and non-con without compromising the plot, the author warns you before it happens. When Naruto and Hinata decide to participate in a high-paying clinical study, they wind up signing up for much more than they bargained for.

“Serial Killer” by Raven Young - Rated M, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. She’s a Sociopath. She’s a Supermodel. She’s a serial killer. She’s a girl in love. She is Hinata Hyuga. And he is her undoing.

“I want you to cry” and its sequel “I want you” by Devahhole - Rated E for graphic murder (character death), dub-con/non-con, and smut, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. A sociopath blinded by revenge runs into his greatest opponent.

"Naruto: The Mating" by SeventhShinobi - Rated E, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Now, Naruto has discovered the an ability called "The Mating." Come see what he'll do with his new found power

Seriously Distressing 😰

“Powerless” by bunny-hoodlum - Rated E for a lot of things, like depictions of violence and character death. Multi-chapter, Incomplete. His family’s past can’t be taken at face-value, and it comes clawing back to hurt him in ways that are out of his control. DELETED FIC.

“Listen To Me” by SullyR - Rated E and includes domestic abuse & non-con, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata is terrified out of her mind. She has no choice but to listen to him or else he gets physical, and by physical, she means fast!

“Nightmare” from “Nice Legs, Daisy Dukes” by Star-Child-Yeci - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. “Why do you got that in your hand, huh, pet?” The words slid off his tongue, and she shivered.

Chapter 6 from “Naruhina Oneshots” by @powerful-niya - Rated E, College AU, One-shot. A new college student finally enrolls into her new school, with the help of a handsome blonde male. He helps her and cares for her which she appreciates very much. But bad rumors about him break out and eventually reaches the midnight blue-haired woman making her feel skeptical about their friendship. But cutting ties is hard, especially with a guy who already has you, under his boot.

Wtf Horrifying 😱

“Monster” by Sessakag - Rated E, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Naruto, a celebrated war hero, finds himself, once again at the forefront of the fight, but which side is he on this time? Love. Tragedy. Happiness. Heartache. The growing pains of becoming a man, have molded, shaped and brought forth a new Naruto Uzumaki.

“Insanity” by Sadistic One - Rated E for GRAPHIC MURDER, College AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. The smell of his cologne and slight musk was the first thing that caught Hyuga Hinata’s attention. She eventually found out that smell belonged to a young man named Uzumaki Naruto. Ever since that encounter, she couldn’t stop following him and watching his every move. She needed to know who he hanged out with, his hobbies likes and dislikes. She even transferred to his school to study him more closely. But as those months went on, she discovered Naruto was not who he portrayed to be to his peers, but a cold-blooded murderer. Is this enough to put a stop to Hinata’s obsession or will it draw her closer to her own insanity?

“Breeding Season” by BlackMajjicDuchess - Rated E and has rape/non-con, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Completely out of pattern, Kyuubi leaks free and causes terrible destruction that Naruto cannot suppress. There is a solution, but it comes at a terrible price.

“Honeymoon” by DemonOfTheFridge - Rated E and has rape/non-con, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto always left on a secret mission once a year for a whole month. A curious Hinata finally had enough and followed him to an underground house. A house she finds herself trapped in, with a dark Naruto. Curiosity Killed the Cat.

This was so entertaining! If anyone agrees or would order things differently, let me know~

#bunny-hoodlum #naruhina fanfic recs #dark!naruhina #naruhina angst #iceberg meme

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