#Jack is trying not to cry while he stops himself from saying ‘I’m your son. can you love me now? can this version of you love me? can any?’

[quietwingsinthesky]

thinking about Jack s5 time travel au again. eventually he’s going to break down, right? he can tell himself that sam & dean wouldn’t want him to jeopardize the future by changing the past, stand by and let lucifer carry on with his reluctant destruction while telling himself that this is his job, to preserve the life sam & dean & cas will have, no matter how much he’s watching them and everything else get hurt in the present. and maybe for them, jack would misguidedly stick it out and make sure things go as they should because the life that they will have might hurt, but it’s theirs, right? it’s what they wanted, right?

but again. lucifer is also there. lucifer is the crux of the apocalypse, and he’s taken jack under his wing thinking he’s a rebel angel for lucifer’s cause, and he’s so different. lucifer and Jack having quiet conversations surrounded by natural beauty where lucifer is so filled with love for all of it, so furious with humanity for ruining the world, so angry and heartbroken that god wouldn’t listen to him. he’s telling jack this while jack nods and listens and tries not to say anything that will give him away. lucifer’s grooming his wings for him absently, saying how much he missed taking care of one of his siblings while caged, and jack is trembling from the constant affection he’s being shown from his dad who doesn’t know he’s his dad. who has never been like this around him before. who he didn’t know could be like this.

i think that’s what would break jack and push his hand into trying to change the future. what wouldn’t he do, if he has the chance to save his father from himself?

[21witnokidz]

IN THE GHETTO

Chapter 20

A/N: I'm sorry I've been inactive due to pure laziness so as an apology here's a long and satisfying chapter

“Alright good boy copper!”

It was your turn to take the dog on a walk and he managed to catch himself a rabbit. Despite you and Arthur splitting you still decided to keep the dog and take turns taking care of him.

When you got back to camp you could hear the loud cries of a baby.

Jack Marston, John and Abigail’s son was born 2 years ago. He’s a good kid but he can sure cry his heart out. Especially since John up and left us.

John’s explanation was that he thought the baby wasn’t his. Before he got Abigail pregnant she had already been with half the gang so it made him anxious. When the baby came out he couldn’t really tell who’s it was but as the days went on it started to look more and more not like him.

John is still pretty young but damn you thought having a baby would mature him a little.

“Hey Abigail you doing alright?” You stepped inside Abigail’s little tent.

“Does it look like it? The baby won’t shut up and his father ain’t even here. How am I supposed to do this alone?”

“You’re not alone”

“This baby needs his father!”

You took Jack from her arms and tried to rock him a little. Since you were still getting used to handling a baby you didn’t really know how to calm him down. He just kept on crying.

Abigail sighed and took him back.

“It’s ok y/n you shouldn’t have to. I just wish I wasn’t so careless. Even now Dutch and them look at me differently. The only ones who still treat me the same is the girls, you and Arthur. Y/n.. you and Arthur have known John way longer than I have. Can you please bring him back?”

You never really been on a job with Arthur ever since the break up so you really didn’t want to do this. But you were going to for your friend.

“Alright I’ll see what I can do”

You walked out the tent and let out the deep breath you were holding ever since Abigail mentioned Arthur’s name. God you wished he didn’t have such an effect on you.

You looked to see Charles heading your way.

“She ok?”

“Yea but she asked me to go with Arthur to try and find John”

“I could come with you guys”

“No you don’t have to. I know you're a good hunter but I don't know if that'll still apply to humans"

Charles sat you down and began massaging your shoulders.

“You’re so tense. I think you should rest up and go tomorrow. I saved you some food while you were gone”

“Thank you Charles” See Charles was nice but the thing is. You can’t stop thinking about Arthur. You just didn’t want to do anything about it because you didn’t want to break his heart.

“Speaking of Arthur I’m gonna go see what he wants. He was calling me earlier when I was busy so I’m gonna go check on him”

Charles walked over to the horses where he found Arthur feeding his horse.

“Arthur” Charles nodded.

“Charles! I was asking if you could teach me how to use that bow of yours. If you’d be so kind”

“Sure thing”

Charles handed Arthur his own bow and they went into the woods.

“Sorry about what happened between you and Mary”

“Yea it was never meant to be anyway”

“What makes you say that?”

“I dunno I guess things just weren’t in their right place. You ever feel like that sometimes?”

“Yea. Hey look. A boar”

The men ducked and quietly kneeled towards the beast.

“Oh Pearson will be happy with this one”

“Ok just put the arrow in the string and slightly draw it back. Not too much though”

Arthur drew the arrow and missed completely, scaring off the boar.

“Damn! It got away. I'm sorry my mind wasn’t clear”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just everything from y/n to Mary and John. This is exactly what I meant when I said everything isn’t in the right place”

“What about y/n?”

“Oh don’t play dumb you kno- oh that’s right… you don’t know”

Charles stopped what he was doing and raised his brow.

“Well I didn’t wanna be the one to tell ya this partner but before you joined us we had some history”

“She never told me that”

“I mean there's nothing between us now but I can’t lie. I think about her a lot. Even with Mary, I only got with her to try and forget about what we once had”

“You still love her?”

“Listen that don’t matter. You two are in love now and that’s it”

“I’m not sure about that. Even when me and y/n are together it never feels like she’s really there. And whenever we talk she somehow always makes the topic about something that has to do with you. I didn’t want to believe it then but I guess I always had a feeling there was something between you two”

“I’m sorry. Let’s just go back”

“No it’s fine. Just let me know how you feel about her and I’ll leave you two alone. And be honest”

“Well.. I only ever talked about this with Dutch and Hosea. We first met and got together when we were just kids. She was my first everything. God we were so young and stupid. We’ve been through a lot of things together. Done a lot of things together… said a lot of things. But like I said that don’t matter no more. You two are gonna have a baby and that’ll be the end of whatever we had”

“Baby? What the hell are you talking about?”

“When you guys were in town. I heard you talking about a baby in the store”

Charles couldn’t help but bend over laughing with his hands on his stomach.

“No Arthur you got it all wrong. We were talking about Abigail’s baby”

“Oh” Arthur scratched his neck “well now I feel stupid”

“Not to be mean but you really are an idiot. If you love that girl so much then go get her. I’m sure she still loves you”

“What about you?”

“Forget about me. I’d want her to be with the man she really wants”

Arthur just shook his head “Man you really are different from everyone else here. How’d a guy like you even end up with guys like us?”

“Sometimes I wonder that myself”

By the time Arthur and Charles made it back it was already dark.

“She’s most likely sleeping now so you might as well go in the morning”

“Thanks again Charles”

Morning

You walked out your tent to get some coffee and sat down next to Charles.

“Hi” you kissed him on the cheek.

“Y/n can I talk to you?”

“Yea what’s up?”

“Arthur told me all about you two and I realize now that I’ve been holding you back. I heard your story and you two really belong to each other. Because you’re both idiots”

You just had a blank stare and started laughing a little.

“Aw man. No, you’re right. I’m sorry for all this Charles. This whole thing has been a mess”

“Don’t dwell on it too much. I just think everything should go back to how it used to be. John should be back and you and Arthur should be together again. Even when you aren’t together you still compliment each other perfectly”

“Thank you Charles” you got up and hugged him.

You heard Arthur call your name from the horses for you to get ready and ride off.

“Ok I gotta go now I guess I’ll see you when I get back”

“Yea. And bring that other idiot back with you. It’s not the same without hearing the banter between him and Abigail”

You walked. No you power walked to where Arthur was. Now that everything was resolved you were happy to be around him again. Well almost everything was resolved. You still had to deal with Mary. Still you’d find your way around that soon enough.

Arthur had a smug smile when you approached him. “Hey troublemaker”

“You call me the troublemaker? Get real Morgan. Weren’t you the one who got John stuck in that O’Driscoll camp?”

“Who was the one who thought it’d be a good idea to shoot at birds deep in the night?”

“Who was the one who decided to burn the tent down trying to boil WATER”

“So we’re not gonna talk about that one time you almost led an actor to suicide?”

“No that was you! Don’t put that on me!”

“But you definitely made a contribution”

“Ok fine we’ll call it even”

-

“So I heard some people saying that there was a man who was camping out at the woods taking bounties”

“Yea that sounds like him. Come on”

You got off your horses and walked into the nearby town with the witnesses.

You saw a woman hanging out her clothes to dry and Arthur kicked his boot up on her wash bucket to greet her. Is he trying to show off or?

“Excuse me ma’am. Have you seen a dirty man bout yay tall” he put his hand up to his chin to show a poor demonstration of John’s height “he’s dirty and smells like dog”

“Oh you know what we should’ve gotten Copper to track him down that would’ve been easier” You explained.

Arthur lowered his head and sighed. “Listen can you just tell us where he is?”

“Well folks said he was gettin’ rough in that bar over there. I wouldn’t recommend gettin’ him riled up though I heard he bites people” The woman responded

You and Arthur just laughed. “Thank you ma’am. Let’s go”

“Y’know I never got the chance to tell you this but I’m happy for you and Mary”

“Me and Mary ain’t together no more”

“REALLY? I mean- really?? Why what happened?”

“Just didn’t feel right” he looked at you.

When you two entered the bar you already heard a ruckus.

“I told you my name ain’t John Marston. It’s Rip Van Winkle!”

“And I told you I don’t serve criminals. This is your wanted poster right here ain’t it?” The bartender pulled out the bounty and John let out a noise you could only identify as shock.

“That’s uh- that’s not me”

“Oh that’s him alright” you spoke up.

John slowly turned around with a scowl on his face.

“What are you two doing here?”

“What are YOU doing here?”

“Listen I don’t care what y’all have to say I’m not coming back”

“Abigail is really struggling without you and you’re just out here getting drunk without a care in the world“

“Y/n I put all my heart into caring for Abigail when she was pregnant. Now I come to find out that the baby ain’t even mine. It looks like it could be Dutch’s”

“Does that even matter? I thought you loved her”

“And I thought she loved me!”

“Alright I’ve had enough” Arthur came and grabbed John by the ear “yer coming back with us ya hear? You need to grow up and be a man!”

Arthur dragged him outside with you behind them and you were found surrounded by the police.

“I told you it’s them. Arthur Morgan, Y/N L/N, and John Marston all lined up!” The bartender slipped away while y’all were talking and got the law here.

“Well I’ll be damned” one of them tipped their hat. “Alright all of you come nice and easy now”

“What do we do?” You looked at Arthur.

“Just comply” he put his hands up and you and John followed.

IN JAIL

Now you three idiots were sitting looking dumb in jail. Now you finally realized why you three got that nickname. After all, before John came it used to be the two idiots. Me and Arthur. It makes you wonder. When Jack grows up is he gonna be a new addition to this unruly group of dimwits?

“I really thought she loved me” John muttered.

“She does John” you walked over to his side and put a hand on his back “and if you think she didn’t love you back then she has to now after all you’ve done for her. And to be honest, she’s not the only one who needs you. We need you. Including Arthur”

“Nah don’t bring me into this” Arthur asserted. “But y/n’s right. Some people in the camp need you”

You nudged his arm. “Ok I need you too from time to time”

“What the hell do you two know about love anyway? It’s not like you ever made it work out with each other. When we first met you two was like Romeo and Juliet and now it's all messed up. Arthur has Mary and you have Charles”

“Well actually..” you started.

“We kinda got..” Arthur continued.

“Dumped” you both said in unison.

Immediately John’s face brightened.

“So you two are going strong again!?” He said with a smile.

“We never said that-“ Arthur started.

“We’re just open now” you finished.

“Oh come on. You two are literally finishing each other’s sentences. Maybe if you two get back together then my mind will be convinced that me and Abigail can get back together too”

“Or how about if you go back to camp now then maybe me and Arthur will think about it”

“Alright”

Arthur looked at you and smiled, happy that you were ready to try again.

“Hey buddy!” You called out to the sheriff keeping watch of you three and handed him a 20 dollar bill. “Come on I know you want it”

The sheriff took the dollar and released you then shut the door when John and Arthur tried to walk out.

“What the hell?”

“She was the only one who gave me the 20 so she’s the only one who gets to leave”

They rolled their eyes and put the money into his hands and they were released.

Back at camp

Everything was back to normal now. John was back. Everyone was happy and you didn’t have to worry anymore.

You sat by a lake with Copper right next to you until you heard Arthur come up behind you.

“I ain’t bothering you am I?”

“No”

He sat down next to you and started petting Copper. “So we’re open now huh?”

“How would you explain it?” You laughed.

“I don’t know. All I do know is that I was a fool to try and get with Mary when I was the one who broke up with you. Are you mad at me?”

“A little”

“I understand. I don’t expect you to forgive me but I’m sorry”

Copper stood up to lay across you and Arthur’s legs.

You two looked at each other.

“Do you forgive me y/n?”

You put your hand on top of Arthur’s and he knew his answer.

[scuttling]

Stay at Home DILF

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,863 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Insecure Hotch, Oral sex, Fingering, Unprotected sex, A little angsty by accident Summary: Aaron retires from the BAU when the new baby is born, but a year later the lack of structure, sleep, and time for himself means changes to his body he's not very proud of. When the thought of having another child is brought up, how will he and his wife work through his insecurities to make the perfectly imperfect, happy family? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Honey, I have to get going—do you need me to drop Jack off at school, or are you good?” Professor Hotchner slides her foot into a flesh-toned pump, leaning against the kitchen table for support and stealing a grape from Jack’s fruit salad. He narrows his eyes, then sticks out his tongue, and she does the same. “Do you want me to starve, Jackrabbit?”

“You won’t starve. Get your own grapes.” So full of sass, that one. Seven is such a fun age. She decides to blame the mixture of Aaron’s genes and Haley’s, and she pulls out her phone to send Haley a quick text.

Your son is a menace in the morning.

Haley: Gets that from his dad.

Aaron enters the kitchen, holding their one year old daughter Mia, and he sticks her in her highchair, puts her breakfast in front of her, and leans toward his wife.

“I’m good, I’ll take him,” he says, and kisses her lips. “Mia and I will take big brother Jack to school, won’t we?” Mia is obsessed with Jack—her first word was Jack, or rather, Ack, which was super cute—so she giggles happily, and her mother can’t help but smile. Their little family is absolutely perfect.

She leans in for another kiss from Aaron, and then another, and then maybe one more...

“You’re getting distracted,” Jack says, and she looks over at him with a raised eyebrow, then back to Aaron. He shrugs.

“It was on one of his vocabulary sheets.” Figures.

“Well, maybe I find my boys distracting. Let me give you kisses and we’ll find out!” She launches herself at him, kissing his head and his cheeks, and he laughs, and she knows she’s going to be late for work, but she can’t pass up moments like these, she just can’t.

She gives him a hug and tells him to have a good day, then she kisses Mia, and then she puts her arms around Aaron’s neck and kisses him goodbye. Before she pulls away, something comes over her—the warmth of this perfect morning, the overwhelming love for both of their sassy, silly kids, or maybe the fact that they’ve been too busy for sex lately and she’s constantly horny for him—and she looks up at him and whispers, “we should have another baby.”

Aaron grins immediately.

“Yeah we should.” They kiss a few more times, quickly, smiling against each other's lips, and he pats her hip because he knows she has to go. “We’ll talk more later, but yes. I want to. I love you.” He takes her face in his hands and kisses her deeply, and she sighs, grabs her bags, and heads out the door. Work is work; as the youngest professor in the English department, her schedule is jam packed with classes, lectures, morning office hours, but despite all that, it seems that Aaron is having the more difficult day.

They both love that he was able to retire from the BAU early to be a stay at home dad when Mia was born—he does consult for them occasionally, but has no official title, doesn’t have to travel—and he’s amazing at it, but she knows her baby can be a handful even on a good day. The texts she’s been getting all morning only solidify that knowledge.

Aaron: FYI - Mia hates bananas this week.

Aaron: What do they put in this applesauce, crack? She’s tearing around here like a bat out of hell.

Aaron: Okay, she’s your child, I officially renounce her. I put on The White Album and she started crying.

Maybe she prefers Abbey Road?

Aaron: No. Unlike her mother, she has taste.

You wound me, Hotchner.

She works through lunch, grading papers on The Call of the Wild, but when Aaron’s name lights up the display on her phone, she puts her pen down and smiles, puts it on speaker.

She’s sorry she did, because Mia is wailing in the background, and it’s very clearly her, I’m exhausted, asshole, leave me alone, cry, which makes her wonder why she’s not taking a nap. She knows she resists Aaron sometimes, doesn’t want him to leave her alone in her room, which is so sweet and also so, so annoying.

“Hi, sweetheart. Are you having a little trouble over there?” He takes a deep breath and sighs.

“She won’t go down, baby, even if I sit in the rocking chair beside her. It’s been twenty minutes.” Wow. He put up with it longer than she would have.

“Put her in her crib with Stuffy Bear and just let her cry; I know you hate that, but she’ll give up eventually.” He groans softly.

“I can’t; I feel so bad.”

She smiles. Her warm-hearted man.

“She does this because she knows you’ll give in and do whatever she wants. I promise you, she’ll be happier for it; she sounds miserable.”

“I don’t know…” he says, and she can tell he’s not going to do it. She picks up her pen and skims the paper she abandoned.

“Are you tired?” She doesn't wait for an answer, because she knows he is: Jack had a bad dream last night and woke them both up, and Aaron went to lay with him until he fell asleep because he knew she had an early morning. It was almost time for her alarm when he made it back to bed. “If you want to try to nap, she’s going to have to nap. Do it for her, yourself, me, a combination of the three of us. She won’t be mad at you; she won’t even remember.”

“What if I give her abandonment issues?” he presses, and she closes her eyes for a moment.

“Aaron, I love you so much. You’re such a great dad, and our kids are lucky to have you. But you have to loosen the reins just a little, especially if… if we are going to have another baby.” The thought makes her smile, and she can tell he’s smiling down the line, too.

“Right. Loosen the reins. Just put her in her crib,” she can hear that he does that, “and give her Stuffy Bear, and let her cry.” He blows out a breath, and she can hear the door click shut behind him as he leaves her room. She’s proud of him, but she also knows he’s going to sit in front of the video monitor and watch to make sure she falls asleep, and that he’ll probably work on laundry after that and not actually take a nap of his own.

He insists he’s doing fine when she brings it up, but the way he sacks out like a corpse when they get into bed doesn’t exactly have her convinced.

“I love you, and miss you,” he says when it’s slightly quieter, though she can faintly hear the cries through the monitor. “It made me really happy this morning when you said we should have another baby. We make perfect babies, have you noticed?” She hides her grin behind her hand, because if anyone walked by her office they’d think she’s insane with how widely she’s smiling.

“I have noticed, but since we only have the one and I can’t take any credit for Jack, I figured we should probably make another. Maybe the same way we made Mia…” They’re both convinced it was a weekend when Jack was at Haley’s and the two of them went to town on each other, true marathon sex where they only stopped for food and water and she coaxed him to hardness so many times she felt like a damn sex goddess.

“Hmm. I remember that with fondness, and would love to do that again. You know Haley said she’d take Mia on one of Jack’s weekends if we ever needed her to.”

Her life is pretty damn perfect, with her gorgeous, caring husband, and her two awesome kiddos, and a job she loves, but the most unexpectedly sweet part is that Haley is so comfortable with her, and that she and Aaron were able to get past the ugliness of their divorce to eventually become friends again. It’s not something they take for granted.

“Maybe we should take her up on it this weekend,” she says, trying to sound a little sultry. “We’ve both been so busy; it’s been a while since you pet my kitty.” For some reason, this particular phrase makes Aaron blush and get insanely horny, and she’s hoping to tease him so much the rest of the week that their weekend is one neither of them ever forget, so she’s pulling out the big guns.

“It’s been far too long, and I’m sorry. I can’t wait, baby. I’ll call her here in a few; I know you have to get to your next lecture.” She looks down at her watch, and it is about time to clean up and head over. She sighs happily down the line.

“Okay, I love and miss you; try to take a power nap. I promise, she’ll be fine.”

“I will.” He won’t. “Talk to you soon.” When she gets home, Aaron has dinner ready; she told him to hold off, that she’d help when she got there, but he has always been an overachiever.

Mia is already in her high-chair, waiting patiently for once in her little life; she kisses her forehead, breathes in her sweet baby smell, and then makes her way to her husband.

“Looks good, honey,” she says as he sets the table, and she leans up for a kiss, but when she presses her hand to his stomach like she always does, he pulls back a little. “Is everything okay? Did you have a bad afternoon?”

“No, it wasn’t bad after the nap fiasco,” he responds, but he sounds distracted. Maybe he was asked to look at a case, or something, and that’s still on his mind? She leans against his shoulder, puts a hand on his back and attempts to push up his t-shirt, to skim her hand up along his spine, which always comforts him, but again, he shifts away from her touch. She sighs and steps back.

“You're going to give me a complex, Aaron. If I did something to upset you, please tell me so I can apologize and try to make it better.” He turns to look at her face, and his formerly tense jaw softens a little; he presses his lips to hers, just a peck.

“No, you didn’t do anything. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.” He smiles softly, and she’s sure he is tired, but this seems like something more.

“You’d tell me if something else was bothering you, right? You know I’m here for you.”

“Of course I would, and of course I do. I love you,” he breathes against her mouth, and then he goes in for a longer kiss and she gets, as Jack said earlier, a little distracted. When the kiss breaks, she sighs happily.

“I love you. Missed those lips,” she murmurs, and then she runs a hand over his hair. “If the kids wake up again tonight, I’ll get them. You need to rest.” He shakes his head.

“You have another full day tomorrow,” he counters, and it’s so sweet that he keeps up with the schedule she has posted on the fridge, but still. She puts her hand on her hip.

“And you don’t? It’s my turn. Let me help.” He looks like he wants to argue, but she gives him the glare he knows means she will talk about this all night if he doesn’t agree; she’s not the sponsor of the university’s debate team for nothing, and even his prosecutorial ways have nothing on her.

“Okay,” he sighs, and she smiles and kisses him and then goes to get Jack and make sure he’s cleaned up for dinner.

That night when the two of them are getting ready for bed, she’s surprised as hell when he stops her from pulling one of his t-shirts—her typical sleepwear—over her head. She sets it down, arches her brow, and he guides her back onto the bed with a grin and puts his hands on her hips.

“What’s happening right now?” she asks, because before Mia, sure, Aaron would treat her to all manner of orgasm-inducing behavior at random, and she would do the same, but since Mia—especially in the last six months or so—their sexual encounters have been few and far between. It’s no one’s fault, and they’re both very clearly still attracted to each other; it’s just one of those things that falls by the wayside when you have a new baby and a hectic life and you don’t get enough sleep.

Needless to say, she is a little confused by this turn of events.

“I’m attempting to worship my gorgeous fucking wife,” he murmurs, and he leans up and kisses her stomach, licks a long line up from her belly button. Her breath hitches. “Gonna put another little baby in here—but it’s always beautiful.” He slowly moves his lips higher, over her ribcage, and holds her there. “You’re perfect, you know?”

“Aaron.” Her fingers come up to sweep through his hair; her heart aches with love and tenderness. He moves up, presses open-mouthed kisses to each of her breasts, then covers them with his hands and squeezes. She’s a panting, dripping mess, and more than anything she wants to strip him naked, pull him closer, get him inside her.

“I love you just as you are; I want you just as you are. Always have, always will.” He smooths his hands up over her throat, and brings her mouth to his for a deep, soulful kiss. She hadn’t even realized she’s been feeling repressed, but his touch tonight makes her feel so beautiful and special… It's incredible how close she is from only that.

“Make love to me,” she whispers, and he kisses her again, but then he slides back down her body.

“Want to taste you,” he says instead, and he gets his hands on her hips again and his mouth on her pussy, looks up at her while he licks and sucks like he’s gone without for ages—which he has, she figures, but it’s blowing her mind, her fingers scratching at the sheets, her neck arched. He massages her hips as his tongue works, as he grinds against the bed, and she comes with a whimper, because her body is so overwhelmed by how good she feels that she can’t even properly vocalize it.

Aaron comes up, just a little, rests his head on her stomach, and she smooths her hands over his hair and his shoulders, since that’s all she can reach.

“Come up and let me touch you—or you can come inside me.” She will happily take either option, but he just kisses her belly and shakes his head.

“No, I’m good. Just really tired.” She frowns, can’t recall a time in her life when they didn’t both get off during sex; he catches her expression and runs his hands up her body. “Really, I’m okay. I just wanted to do that before I passed out.” He smiles, and she doesn’t like it, but he climbs off of her and goes to the bathroom, and she pulls on the t-shirt and crawls into bed. Two days later, she’s sitting in her office grading tests when she hears a knock at the door. She looks up, and it’s Aaron, of course, looking so gorgeous in a black polo and jeans.

“Hey, what are you doing here? Where’s Mia?” she asks with a smile. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“She’s with her Aunt Penelope for a few hours.”

“Why? Is everything okay?” Penelope is at work, she knows, because she texted her earlier about something unrelated and she’d mentioned that she and Spencer were having coffee and that he said hello.

“Everything‘s fine,” he assures her, and he enters the room fully, closes the door behind him… and locks it. “Can’t your husband come visit you during your super secret not-really-office-hours?” She raises an eyebrow, both at his question and the fact that he locked the door. What exactly is he planning to do, she wonders?

“You can, but you don’t. I guess I’m just surprised.”

“Well today I decided to. I missed you so much.” He walks around her desk and leans over her for a couple of kisses. “Have you missed me?” She rolls her eyes, smiles.

“Of course I missed you. I miss you every second I’m away from you.” She reaches out, wants to hug him, pull him closer, but he takes a step back and crooks his finger, encouraging her to follow him.

He’s being really weird, but he’s also being really hot. She decides to play along.

She stands, walks over to him, and he carefully clears a spot on her desk, knows she has a system and doesn’t like a mess; when she’s within reach, he puts his hands on her waist and lifts her up onto it, her ass where a stack of tests had just been. Fuck.

“I want to get this dress off of you,” he says, voice low, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses her, rough and deep. “Can I take it off, baby? Can I make you come?”

Everything is happening so fast her head is spinning—it’s not like him to just show up at her office, to try to have sex with her there, especially when their dry spell has been, up until recently, like the damn Sahara.

He must sense her confusion, her apprehension, because he kisses slowly along the side of her throat, down the v-neck of her dress, making her eyelids flutter.

“The door’s locked, and no one even knows we’re in here. Can I take it off?” She pants, thinks about this for a second, but then he slides a hand over her thigh, pushing her skirt up, and she gets a little distracted. She nods, and he kisses her hard and unties the sash of her wrap dress, pushes it off her shoulders. She’s glad she wore a matching set of bra and panties, because this is like prime fantasy material and she wants to try to remember every detail.

He kisses her mouth, soft and sweet, then tugs the straps of her bra down her shoulders, pulls the cups down so her breasts fall out of them. She moans, a little startled, and he dips his head to mouth at her nipples, rests one hand on her lower back and one on her stomach—probably because she looks like she’s about to slide off the desk and onto the floor like a blob of jelly. She knows that’s how she feels.

When he’s gotten her thoroughly worked up, almost trembling with the need for more, he pushes her panties aside and presses a finger into her, and she whimpers, wraps her hand around his neck for support when he starts to pump it deeply inside.

“What has gotten into you?” she breathes, and her hips chase the pleasure he brings; the hand on her back moves to her ass, squeezes it.

“I love you and I want you. I want to make you happy, I want you to feel good.”

“Me—me too,” she gasps as he moves faster, staring right into his eyes. “I love you, want you. Want to make you happy, feel good.” She cards her fingers through his hair and stretches for a desperate, eager kiss. “I want you so badly, baby, please.”

“I’m right here. You have me,” he murmurs, but that’s not what she means and he has to know it. Just in case he doesn’t, though, she makes herself loud and clear; relationships are all about communication, after all.

“I want you to put your cock in my pussy, I want you to come in me. I want you to fucking ruin me, Aaron, I want you to shove your dick in me and keep shoving.” She sounds unhinged, but she can’t stop.

He adds a second finger—not what she wants—and roughly gropes her breast—it feels so good, but it’s not what she wants. Why won’t he give her what she wants?

“Shh, just come on my hand, it’s okay. I’ll fuck you later, in our bed, baby,” he promises. “Just come now, okay? Right here, right now for me.”

She does, because even if he’s being unnecessarily aggravating, it’s still Aaron. She’s desperate for him, always has been, always will be. She comes loud and high and she clutches him tightly and he kisses her and coos words of love and affection into her ear. She gets cleaned up, and they go for lunch, and they can’t take their eyes off each other.

Something’s very wrong, and she can’t quite put her finger on it.

That evening when she gets home, Aaron is feeling guilty. She’s not sure why, but he’s executing all of his patented guilty trademark behaviors: he offers her a glass of wine, runs her a bath, rubs her feet, even though he’s been the one home with the baby all day. She’s tempted to ask if he’s cheating on her, as a joke, but that’s never funny, especially when she knows he’s being shifty and weird about something.

When they’re laying in bed, he sets down his book and looks over at her.

“I meant to tell you, Haley isn’t able to take Mia tomorrow. Maybe the weekend after, we can have our special alone time.” She won’t say she’s not disappointed, but she doesn’t want to inconvenience Haley, when she’s already being so great. She smiles softly, covers his hand with hers.

“That’s okay. It was short notice, anyway. I’ll still enjoy my weekend, with you and Mia.” He smiles too, but it doesn’t quite touch his eyes.

The kids sleep through the night, but she doesn’t. On Friday, she picks Jack up from school and takes him to Haley’s, who sends him to wash up so she can make him a snack. When he’s gone, she smiles warmly and invites her into the kitchen for coffee; she takes a cup, and they make pleasant small talk like they always do.

“Are you sure you don’t want to bring Mia over?” Haley asks after a few minutes. It sounds like she’s double checking. “It’s really no trouble.” She frowns, sets her cup down.

“I thought you weren’t able to watch Mia this weekend. I thought… I thought that’s what Aaron said. I must have misunderstood him.” That’s the only logical conclusion, because Aaron wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t.

“He was being a little weird on the phone the other day. He asked me if I would watch her, and I said yes. He told me about your plans,” she says with raised eyebrows, “and then I told him, you know. That he better treat you right, because you just had a baby not that long ago and you might be a little self-conscious about jumping back into the sack like that; not that you should be, because you look amazing.” She racks her brain for the first time he started acting strangely, pulling away from her, and it would have been after his conversation with Haley. She asks, just to confirm.

“Is that when he got weird?”

“Actually yeah. He changed his mind, said you might not need me to watch her after all, but I told him the offer stood. He was pretty quick to get off the phone after that.” She would sip her coffee, but she’s pretty sure her hands are shaking. Why would he lie about that?

“You know, I should go. I’m sure Aaron’s pulling his hair out with her, she’s been a devil today. Tell Jack I love him and I’ll talk to him tonight, will you?”

“Of course. If you change your mind about Mia, just let me know,” Haley says, and she gets into her car with tears stinging her eyes.

When she gets home, Aaron is playing with Mia on the living room floor. He looks up at her with a smile that abruptly falls when he takes in her facial expression.

“What’s wrong?” She composes herself, takes a deep breath. They vowed a long time ago not to argue in front of Jack or Mia. She tries to sound conversational.

“You lied to me. You said Haley couldn’t take Mia this weekend.” He swallows and looks properly guilty. She’s not sure how he was able to lie to her in the first place; he’s never been any good at it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I just didn’t know how to say it.” She looks up, shakes her head, wills her eyes not to water while she’s trying to have this conversation.

“You didn’t know how to say what? What is it that’s made you distance yourself from me?” She recalls him physically pulling away, then doing a complete 180 and initiating sex, but never penetrative sex, never letting her touch him or return the favor in any way. “Haley told me about your conversation. So do you think I’m unhappy with my body, or are you unhappy with my body?” He has the nerve to look confused, gets Mia set up with some toys she can play with safely on her own and stands up, comes close to her. She’s not sure she even wants his touch right now, which is saying something; when she’s unhappy, that’s usually all she wants.

“Neither of those things. I swear to god. I love you and I love your body; you’re so beautiful. Too beautiful for me, you always have been.” He’s looking down at her so seriously, and she wants so badly to believe him, but how could she, when faced with the evidence?

“Okay. If it’s neither of those things…” Her voice is small when she says the one option that hurts her most. “Did you change your mind? Do you not want to have another baby with me?” He sighs, deflates, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“No, listen to me. It’s not that I don’t want that; I want that more than anything, but it will… further complicate, things...” He trails off, and she tries to follow what he’s saying. “The problem isn’t you in any way. It’s me.” She huffs, squeezes her eyes briefly shut.

“You? How can it be you, when you’ve been the only man to catch my eye for years? From the moment you set foot on my campus looking for your bad guy, I’ve been attracted to you, aroused by you, wrapped around your finger. You’re so perfect for me: perfect husband, perfect dad, perfect lover. My best friend. Never a day has gone by where I haven’t wanted you.” He wets his lips, sighs.

“Surely you’ve noticed that since I quit my job and started staying home with Mia, I… I don’t look the same. I’ve… let myself go.” His brows are deeply furrowed, and he’s clearly struggling with this; she reaches for him, no longer angry—at least for the time being—puts a hand on his arm.

“I’ve noticed that you don’t quite look the same. Doesn’t mean you’ve ‘let yourself go,’ or that I’m not still attracted to you; you just have a dad bod now instead of an ‘FBI guy who punches people for a living’ bod.” Her other hand hovers, then comes to rest on his stomach, and she smiles. “I’m actually really into the way you look now. I’ve been fantasizing about it for ages. I wish I’d known you were feeling self-conscious.”

“I’m not used to feeling… self-conscious, vulnerable,” he breathes, but he presses into her touch, so she considers that a good thing. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“I get that baby, I do, but this is me. I would have done anything I could to make you feel better. You didn’t have to hide it from me. You didn’t have to lie. We could have talked about it.” She moves the hand on his arm to his face, guides him down for a loving kiss. “We’re equally to blame, because I know you haven’t been getting good sleep, and I know you barely have time for yourself, and I didn’t step in; but you never let me help. If roles were reversed, and it was me staying home with Mia, you would never expect me to do all the cooking and cleaning and homework and bath time without your help. So you need to let me help, Aaron, please.” She looks up at him, eyes warm and sincere, and he nods, bends to press a kiss to her lips.

“I’m sorry. I still don’t feel great about… myself, but maybe I could. If I let you help. If I took some time for me.” She nods and wraps her arms around him—finally—for a hug.

“I love you so much. Just like this. Big, cuddly papa bear, taking care of our babies, making our home a safe and happy place for them. How could I not love the body that brings me so much happiness? That makes me excited to get in my car and come home at the end of every day?”

They kiss some more, deep, healing kisses and soft, sweet kisses, but she doesn’t get distracted by them. She’s very focused, caresses him and brushes loving fingertips over his chest and arms and sides. But speaking of distractions…

“Were you doing all those sexy things to try to distract me from wanting you to get all up on me?” she asks, pulling back, and at least he has the decency to flush.

“Kind of? I figured if it was sex you wanted, you’d be happy to get off however it happened; it was great for me too, don’t get me wrong, I just didn’t really want to be touched, feeling the way I felt.” She frowns, rests her head against his chest and holds him tighter.

“That makes me sad. What I wanted was an intimate moment with my husband, and while yes, what you did for me was great, because you’re super hot and very capable,” she says, leaning back in his embrace with a soft smile, “it’s not what I’ve been wanting. I want you all naked and sweaty and heavy on top of me, going to pound town.” He presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows.

“Pound town? What are you, twelve?” She grins, shoves his chest, and he laughs.

“I’m surrounded by college kids all day, please forgive me. I think it got my message across though.” She touches his cheek, looks up into his eyes, and sighs. “Can we take Mia over to Haley’s and give it a shot? I’ll do anything to make you feel happy and comfortable, any position that makes you feel better—though what I’d really like most, if you’ll trust me, is to suck your dick, and then hop on your dick, and then later when we’re ready to go again, we do the pound town thing and make another goddamn baby.”

She’s so serious, and he looks so serious, and then he kisses her and says yes and they pack up their kid and take her to his ex-wife’s so they can get it on, which sounds so much crazier than it actually is. She gets him out of his clothes, doesn’t move slow or spend lots of time focusing on what he thinks are flaws; instead, she proves how desirable he is by practically tearing his pants off and pushing him against the bed and swallowing around his dick just so she can hear all those delicious moans she’s been missing.

After that, she rides him hard, kisses him harder, plants her hands on his chest and stomach and moans and groans against his mouth. “So fucking hot, seriously so fucking hot, Aaron—if I saw you across the room today I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing, I would still pursue you, I’d make you blush like I did back then. I’d be so forward because I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about how good this would feel.”

She’s rocking his world, no doubt about that; it’s written all over his face, in the hardness of his hands on her hips as she grinds down on his cock, in the way his chest is heaving despite not actually doing any of the work at all. He comes first, and then rubs her clit while she continues to fuck him until she finds her own orgasm; she scratches her nails down his stomach, and he leans up and grabs her face for a rough, perfect kiss.

They take a break, cuddling and kissing and enjoying the feel of bare skin, comfy bed, soft lips. Aaron touches her cheek, tells her how much he loves and appreciates her.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been keeping this inside, and not being truthful. It’s hard, when you’re as perfect as the day I met you, and I’m…” She presses a finger to his lips, shushes him, kisses him.

“You’re as perfect as the day I met you, too. More perfect, even, because every day since then you’ve chosen me, and our family. I could not ask for a better man. Simply could not, Aaron. And if you want me to come home early so you can go to the park to run, or to the gym, then that’s what I'll do, but if you look like you do right now, forever, I’ll be happy with that too. Whatever makes you happy.”

They snuggle and kiss and talk and laugh, and then laughing becomes sex in that way everything becomes sex when you’re genuinely obsessed with the person in your bed.

He gets her on her back, kisses all over, teases her—“mmm, rubbing your kitty, baby, how does it feel?”—and then puts her legs over his shoulders, plants his hands, and fucks, taking every ounce of his pent-up frustration out on her, and it’s incredible.

“Yes, Aaron, yes, baby, oh, god.” Her head is thrown back, and she’s torn between laughing, because she’s been wanting this for months and it’s exactly as awesome as she’d dreamed it would be, and crying, because she fucking loves him, so much it puts a lump in her throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, speeds up, sweaty and gorgeous and smiling. “You’re going to come with me—not just for me, but with me, so my come gets deep inside, so it works and we get another perfect baby who never lets us fucking sleep.” She nods frantically, presses her hips against his, and it’s not simultaneous, but it’s a near damn thing, when they both come groaning each other’s names. A little less than a year later, they have Mason. Aaron is at home in his dad bod, Mia doesn’t cry at naptime, Jack is still a menace in the mornings, and their perfect little family got a little more perfect. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul

[queenxxxsupreme]

Defender, Protector, Keeper (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: This is one of those things I write that should have a first part but.... It doesn’t.... I do plan on making more within this little.... world??? With this mom!reader and her son Ben. So sorry for this mess. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: violence, nothing out of canon, Micah is mean to children, mute child (is that a warning?) fluff, Arthur being a father figureish thing, soft Arthur, I don’t know what else to tag, blood? it’s all canon to the game

Summary: Arthur steps in to help you with your son after a run in with Micah.

***

“Miss Y/L/N! Miss Y/L/N!”

You moved out of the tent upon hearing Mrs. Grimshaw calling your name. 

“Right here, Mrs. Grimshaw.” 

“There you are. Where is that boy of yours?” She looked around as if trying to peek into the tent. I’ve got a little chore for him and Jack.”

“He was just in here helping me with laundry, but he wouldn’t mind giving you a hand.” You turned to go into the tent. “Ben? Mrs. Grimshaw needs your help.”

Ben, your five-year-old son, put the clothing in his hand down and looked at you. 

“Come on with me, Ben. I’ve already got Jack over by the woods.” Susan gestured for him to follow her.

“What are the boys going to do?” You asked her. 

“Help Lenny and Sean pick some firewood. The little fellas ain’t gonna pick nothin’ but some small kindling. The fellas– Well, Lenny won’t let the boys hurt themselves.”

You fought the urge to volunteer to follow your son. It was just little kindling sticks and twigs. It wasn’t like they were going to chop down entire trees.

Susan, sensing your hesitation, stopped just at the edge of your tent.

“They aren’t going far into the woods at all, Y/N. Charles and Bill are on guard duty and Sean and Lenny are going to be with them. Nothin’s gonna happen to those boys.” She assured you.

You nodded your head, reaching down to run your fingers over Ben’s hair. 

“Go on and help Mrs. Grimshaw, Ben.”

He silently followed alongside her. 

You continued to fold laundry until it was finished. Once that was complete, you decided to go out and see if there was anything else around camp you could help with. 

It seemed to be a rather mellow evening. No one was out doing any jobs nor was anyone talking about any jobs, which was a rarity. In the three months that you had been staying with the Van Der Linde Gang, you had quickly realized their lifestyle was fast paced and there was almost always something to do. 

You made your way over towards the tent the girls in camp stayed in. 

“Hi, Y/N.” Tilly greeted you first. She was reading a book.

“Hey, Y/N!” Mary-Beth was also reading. Karen sat on a chair next to the two singing. “You wanna sit with us for a bit? You’ve been working hard all day.”

“That’s okay, Mary-Beth. I think I should go see if Ben is doing okay with Sean and Lenny.” You looked around towards the woods.

“What’s he doing with those two fools?” Tilly put her book down in her lap. 

“Mrs. Grimshaw had him and Jack helping them with firewood.”

“Last I saw, Lenny and Sean were sitting over by the fire.”

A knot began to form in your stomach. Why hadn’t your son returned to you?

You moved to search for Lenny and Sean, but they proved to be easy to find. They were sitting at a fire with a few other gang members. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” You cut off Sean. “Where is Ben at?”

“Hi, Miss Y/L/N.” Lenny gave you a charming smile. “Ben and Jack went over towards John and Abigail’s tent. Jack said they were going to play.”

“Thank you, Mr. Summers.” 

***

You did indeed find your son at John and Abigail’s tent. He sat outside of it with Jack. Jack was talking about some sort of story that Hosea had told him about a bear while your little Benny just kept playing with his half of the deck of cards. 

“Y/N.”

You looked up to Abigail. 

“Hi, Abigail.”

“I hope you don’t mind that Jack brought Ben over. I know Susan had them working earlier.”

“I don’t mind.” You shook your head, smiling. You crossed your arms as you watched Ben. Jack didn’t seem to care that Ben was silent and wasn’t responding to him. Jack had learned since you both arrived at camp that talking wasn’t something Ben did, so he usually did all of the talking for Jack. You were thankful for this. In the beginning, you weren’t sure how young Jack would react to your quiet son. 

“Do you want to sit down and have a cup of coffee with me?” Abigail asked. “I don’t usually get much down time, but neither do you. You’re always running around.”

“Have to keep busy, you know.” You chuckled a little. “Coffee sounds nice.”

The both of you got your drinks and then sat down at a table not too far from the boys. 

“They grow like weeds.” She thought out loud, shaking her head softly. “I’m gonna have to get Jack some new clothes soon. He’s about to be too big for nearly all the pants he’s got. Maybe Ben could fit into what Jack can’t wear. Ben is a little thing. That way you don’t have to go out and waste money. I mean, the clothes aren’t perfect. Jack has needed them patched more than once. But they work.”

“That’s very kind of you, Abigail. Thank you.”

She gave you a smile.

“Momma! Momma!” Jack called as he ran over to Abigail. 

Ben rushed up to you, a smile on his lips. His hair fell into his face and he tried to wipe it out of his eyes but he didn’t do too good of a job.

“Hi, love.” You smiled down at him, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Are you having fun?”

He nodded, looking over to Jack. 

“Momma, can we go give Sean his cards back?”

“Where is Sean at?” Abigail asked, looking around the camp. 

“He’s just on the other side of camp at one of the other fires.” You told her, recalling where you had seen him earlier.  

“If Miss Y/L/N says that Ben can go, then yes. You can. But you have to ask her.”

Ben tugged on your skirt as if to ask you.

“Miss Y/L/N! Can we take Sean his cards?” Jack waved the stack of cards around.

“I don’t see why not.”

“I’ll race you over there!” 

You watched as Jack took off first with Ben just behind him. 

“I’m glad Jack finally has someone to play with and keep him company.” Abigail smiled. 

“They get along so well.” You nodded. “I was a little…. worried at first, if I’m honest.”

“Oh really?”

“Just because…. Well, sometimes it’s hard for Ben.”

Abigail nodded her head understandingly. 

“He’s a sweet boy, Y/N. You raised him well.”

“Thank you-,”

“You dumb little rat! Watch where you’re going next time!”

You stood up upon hearing the sound of shouting. Feeling the urge to find out what had happened, you ventured across camp until you found your son and Micah Bell. Micah had a hold of Ben’s arm and was holding him at an awkward angle. 

“When someone speaks to you, little boy, you’re supposed to answer them!”

“Micah!” You raised your voice. 

Micah turned his head to look at you but didn’t let your son’s arm go. 

Anger bubbled in your veins. 

“Ah, the whore. Maybe someone better teach this boy manners before he ends up worse than his ma.”

You pushed against Micah’s chest. Ben was crying at this point, trying to grab onto your skirt anywhere he could but Micah was finding amusement in pulling the boy away from you. 

“Micah! Get your hands off of that boy!” Abigail shouted. 

The next few moments happened all too quickly for you to know what exactly happened. But Micah released Ben and he fell backwards to the ground. Your hand flew up to smack him and you landed a nice hit on his cheek, but he was quicker than you and far more skilled in fighting so the backhand to your cheek came out of seemingly nowhere. 

You took a few steps back to keep from falling flat on your ass. You ended up hitting something solid. A hand found your side and another your arm. 

It was Arthur Morgan. He only took a couple seconds to make sure you were steady on your feet before moving around you to deliver two punches to Micah. The nasty man fell back as blood began to pour out of his nose. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Abigail rushed to one side of you and Mary-Beth came to the other. 

You didn’t answer them. You only pushed them away to get to your son. 

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he sat in the dirt where he had fallen. 

There was a hand on your wrist that stopped you just before you could get to him. 

Arthur turned you back around to face him. You pulled against him, wanting desperately to get to your son.

“You’ve got blood on ya, pumpkin.” He murmured quietly, using his thumb to wipe away the little bit of blood from your busted lip. “He don’t need to see that.”

“Th-Thank you.” You whispered. 

“Can I pick him up? Move him somewhere else for you?”

You nodded. 

Arthur let you go and moved towards Ben. 

“Come here, Benny. You alright?”

Ben nodded his head, shyly tucking his face into Arthur’s neck.

Arthur took him to a table and sat him down on it, then pulled out a chair for you. But you couldn’t sit down just yet. You had to make sure he was okay. 

Your hands cupped his face and tilted his head up so you could check him over for any marks. 

“Are you okay, love? Does anything hurt?”

He held up his hands to you, showing that his palms were scraped up and bleeding a little. He sniffled, his bottom lip quivering. 

“I’ll get somethin’ to clean those up, Y/N.” Mary-Beth spoke, moving towards Strauss’s wagon.

Upon seeing the scratches and bleeding scrapes from Ben falling back and catching himself on his hands, anger welled up inside of Arthur. 

He turned and started to make his way towards Micah. 

“Arthur! Arthur Morgan!” Abigail called after him, but she couldn’t stop him herself. “John! Mr. Smith! Please!”

You couldn’t pay attention to what was happening with Arthur right now. Ben was important and took priority. 

You brushed his hair back and sat down in front of him. 

“I’m so sorry you got hurt, love.” You leaned forward to kiss his cheek. 

He wrapped his arms around your neck, careful not to touch you with his injured hands, and then slid down into your lap. 

A few moments later, Mary-Beth returned with a bowl of water and a few rags. Tilly was with her too, helping to carry bandages. 

“Are you alright, Benji?” Tilly asked. He nodded his head without lifting it from your chest. “He didn’t get too hurt by that nasty Micah, did he?”

“Think it just spooked him more than anything.” You answered her. “Thank you, girls.”

The items were placed on the table and then they left. 

“Ben, I need you to sit on the table so I can reach you, love.”

He shook his head. 

“We’ve got to get these scratches cleaned up, okay? We don’t want them to get yucky.”

A hand found your shoulder. You looked to see Arthur moving around your chair. 

“Lemme give ya some help. That way Benny can stay on your lap where he’s comfortable.”

You nodded your head, giving him a little smile as a thank you. 

“Hey, Benny? Can I see your hands?”

Benny shifted around on your lap so that he could easily face Arthur. He gave Arthur one hand. 

“This might sting just a bit, but I promise it’ll be over soon.” 

Arthur got a rag wet and began to clean the dirt and little bit of blood from Ben’s small palm. 

“You’re a strong fella, Benny. You know that?”

Ben sniffled. 

“I heard you helped Sean and Lenny with getting firewood. Did you carry all the big logs by yourself?”

A little grin tugged at your son’s lips. He shook his head. 

Once he was cleaned up and Arthur had carefully wrapped up his hands, Ben looked around for Jack. He was with Hosea. The two weren’t very far away at all. Ben shimmied down from your lap but stayed by you. His eyes were focused on Jack. He wanted to go play with his friend. 

“You can go on, love.” You told him. He flashed you a little toothy smile before taking off in the direction of Hosea and Jack. 

Arthur stayed on his knees beside you for a few moments, watching Ben go. He let out a breath through his nose and shook his head. 

“That bastard is lucky I don’t put a bullet in him.” He rose to his feet, shaking his head. 

“Ben is okay, Arthur.” You turned your head to look at him. “He just…. He was just shaken up a bit. But he’s okay.”

“He hit you too. No man should ever treat a lady like that.” 

You admired his words, the way he viewed things. 

A little smile came to your lips and you watched him sit down next to you. 

“Well, Mr. Morgan. Not everyone has the same ideals as you.”

Arthur shook his head, fingers curling into a fist. He was still worked up over the situation. 

“It’ll be okay, Arthur.” You reached over to place your hand on his. “I can take a hit just fine. But I do appreciate you stepping in. It was really kind of you to help clean up Ben.”

He became a bit sheepish at your words, tipping his head down so you couldn’t see his eyes completely thanks to the brim of his hat. He cleared his throat. 

“Just-Just hate seein’ the little guy cry is all.”

You smiled a bit and gave his hand a squeeze before moving away from the table he sat at. 

Arthur watched you leave, then turned his head to watch the two youngest members of the gang with Hosea. Hosea was telling a story while Jack and Ben listened. 

Arthur turned his head back to see where you had gone off to. You were standing with Abigail near Pearson’s tent. Abigail said something that caused you to look at Arthur, a smile pulling at your lips then you looked back at her, shaking your head and bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. It was a poor attempt to hide a giggle. 

Arthur fixed the hat on his head and decided to go towards his horse. 

“When are you gonna tell her?” Charles spoke from his horse. He was messing with a strap of Taima’s saddle. 

“Tell her what?”

Charles rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“I’m not oblivious to it, Arthur. I don’t think any of us in camp are.”

“To what?”

“That you fancy her.”

Arthur mounted his horse, shifting around in the saddle a bit.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Smith.” He adjusted his hat. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t.”

“You wanna come with me? Or keep standing there goin’ on about it?”

Taglist: @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql @brooke-supernatural16 @lassiee @hocdolliday @micahs-bird 

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[heliotropehotch]

as it was - a.h. x fem!reader

Request by @greenprisca​: Hi can I request a Hotch x reader fic! The reader is always there for hotch and jack (took care of them even when Haley was alive), but they both snap at her. Telling her she’s not Haley/his mom. (Y/N) takes a break from them and goes out with a brother or family member that’s a single parent, and the boys see it wrong.

a/n: i contacted tumblr a couple of days ago about my tag issues but i haven’t heard back. boosting this fic, if you like it, could really help tumblr fix whatever issue it’s having with my accounts. its very frustrating, and is making me not wanna post right now, so i might take a bit of time off while i wait for this issue to fix, and while i wait for more requests! ilysm thank you for your support!

Masterlist

author: abby <3

words: 1667

warning: fighting, yelling, mention of past character death

It shouldn’t have happened the way it did. 

The collapse of a perfect world was triggered by a caring act. The end of a long day, the whisper of words turned to shouts, love turned into regret. 

Aaron Hotchner had come back to his home late that night, the smell of dinner flooding through to his nostrils. He smiled, a gesture he missed when he was away on case. He called for Y/N, a presence he had hoped to see. Instead of the giggles of his son and her that usually met his eyes, he was met with quiet, so he headed to his son’s room.

She was moving to close Jack’s bedroom door, having just gotten him to sleep. Her eyes were tired, holding a sadness he had not seen in a long time. He quirked his eyebrow, moving to speak. She shook her head, a finger going to her mouth as she motioned him into the living room.

“How was your day, hun?” she sighed, stirring the pot of food she had made. 

“It was work,” he took his suit jacket off, draping it over a chair before hugging her body from behind. “Did something happen today?”

“I think you’ll need to talk to Jack tomorrow. He yelled at me tonight,” she said sadly, head swimming with thoughts.

“He did what?” he asked concerned, he hadn’t seen his son angry before. 

“I was just trying to put him to bed, but I guess he was having a hard time,” she spoke, recalling the hour before. “So I started humming that song Haley used to sing to get him to sleep, Hey Jude.”

“What?” His body tensed around hers as she continued speaking. 

“I don’t know.” She remained oblivious to his actions. “I thought it would help, but he just got more upset. He shouted saying I wasn’t his mom and started crying. I just held him until he fell asleep.” 

He retracted his arms from around her, hands curling into fists. “You’re not.”

She paused her movements to the dining room to set out plates for the both of them. She asked confused, “What?”

“You’re not his mom,” Aaron’s voice rang stern, anger boiling behind his steely eyes. “You’re not Haley. 

Y/N took a step back, scared of the tone, the implication of the words not said pushing against his lips. “Aaron,” her voice was confused, hurt. “I know that.”

“Then stop trying to act like you are.” He pulled his tie off, chucking it across the couch. “What made you think it was a good idea to do that? Stop trying to be more than what you are.”

“And what exactly am I?” Her voice became louder, not caring about the way it echoed through the hall. 

“A distraction,” he bit out, jaw clenched. “Nothing more than a sound to fill the silence.”

She huffed out a teary, dark chuckle, looking away from the man she’d give up everything for. She grabbed her things, keys jingling as her adrenaline began to wear. “Well, thank you, Hotch,” she bit out, a sarcastic smile on her face. “For having the decency to let me know now. Dinner’s on the fucking stove.”

The silence that was there before her hung in the air as he watched her shut the door, as she watched her leave.

The next morning, Jack Hotchner woke up rubbing sleep out of his eyes, clutching a stuffed animal Y/N had given him for his birthday. He frowned as he saw his father making breakfast in the kitchen.

“Daddy?” he pressed the fuzzy elephant to his chest. “Where’s Y/N?”

Aaron sighed at his son’s confused voice, setting the spatula he was using for pancakes down. He tried to mask his own emotions with the excitement of seeing his son. “Good morning, Buddy! Y/N went home for a bit, she had some other things to do.”

“But I thought this was her home.” Jack’s small little eyebrows furrowed with more confusion. 

“It is,” Hotch knelt down to get on his son’s level. “She just needed some alone time, bud.”

Jack’s eyes began to well up, striking his father’s heart. “Is it my fault?”

Aaron felt his stomach drop with guilt. “Of course not Jack.”

“But I yelled at her.” His lip quivered. “I said she wasn’t mommy.”

“I know buddy-”

“But I don’t care!” Jack was sobbing into his dad’s shoulder now. “I love Y/N, daddy.”

Aaron pressed his distressed son into his chest, shushing his cries against his casual shirt. His own heart ached with regret and words he wanted to take back. He admitted the words he had yet to say, as if to give himself some comfort. “I love her too, Jack. She’ll be back soon, I promise.”

After Jack had calmed down, Hotch decided to spend his day off trying to ease both of their minds. He took Jack to the zoo, carefully avoiding the elephants, and spent what felt like hours staring at the waddling penguins. Jack insisted on getting Y/N an apology stuffed penguin. Then he promised a trip to the park with what Jack called the ‘cool jungle gym.’ 

Jack ran towards the swings as Hotch reclined back into one of the park benches. He smiled to himself momentarily, as he watched his once sad son giggle with the other kids. His grin fell though, as he realized she should be enjoying the day with them. 

He wasn’t sure if Y/N would wait for him, and he honestly didn’t blame her if she didn’t. He had put her through so much, after having cared for both him and Jack when Haley died, and long before she passed as well. He loved Y/N but she couldn’t be blamed for being hurt at the things he had said, and would never mean. 

His eyes glazed over the park, letting out a solemn sigh at the peacefulness that contrasted the interior of his heart. And then he saw her.

Her arms were wrapped around a man, one Hotch hadn’t remembered seeing before, although it felt familiar. Around her own legs, a boy, about Jack’s age, had clung himself to Y/N’s knees, looking up pleadingly. The sweet smile he thought was reserved for his family had worked its way across her face. He almost missed his own son bounding up to where he had planted himself on the bench. 

“Daddy?” Jack called out. “What are you looking at?”

“Hmm?” Hotch said distractingly.

“Who are those people with Y/N? Doesn’t she wanna hang out with us?” Aaron was too preoccupied, watching Y/N pressed a kiss to the man’s cheek. 

“Can I go say hi to her?” he pleaded, tugging on his dad’s hand. 

“Not now, Jack,” he sighed, pulling his now pouting son into his lap. “I think she might be busy, bud.”

Days had passed, without a word from Y/N. Aaron had picked up the phone hundreds of times at that point, wanting to say anything to bring her back into their lives. He had been relying on Jess for help taking care of Jack when he was at work, and had therefore endured a lecture he knew he deserved. 

He got in his car to drive home, sighing at the empty passenger seat next to him. His eyes landed on the stuffed penguin he had bought to please Jack. He sighed once more, knowing he had to do something. 

The front door of Y/N’s apartment was daunting, unfamiliar. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been to her place before, but Jack was right when he said their place was her home. She had basically moved in with them, so the varnish that covered the wooden door only seemed threatening of the barrier he had been putting up. He raised his fist, and knocked on the door. 

Her eyes widened at the distraught man in front of her, promptly turning into a frown with the recognition of Hotch. She moved to close the door again. 

“Y/N, please,” he begged, stoic expression long gone. “I’m sorry.”

“Aaron-”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I hurt you, I know that. But I didn’t mean it.” She stood still, allowing him to speak, and he took a step closer to her, reaching for her hand. “I love you, Y/N. You were never a distraction, only a relief. There’s so much I couldn’t have done with you by our side. We both know you’re not Haley, but I like you better as you are, as someone who cares for my kid like her own, as someone who cares for me when I forget to do it myself.” 

Her hiccups of tears flooded the silence that came when he paused, his hand moving up to her cheek. “If I could take it all back, before I said those words, I would in an instant. Just as it was, just as you were. I just hope you still hold your love for me after what I’ve done.”

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pressing his nose into her neck as he breathed her in. She sighed, relieved to have one of the Hotchner’s back in her arms. “I love you, Aaron, even when you decide to act like a dick.”

He chuckled against her, squeezing her body against his before pulling back. Brushing away her tears again, he kissed her forehead, making a promise to himself that he wouldn’t let her go again. Her giggle, brought him out of his soft trance.

“Did you bring me a penguin?”

He smiled sheepishly, pressing the stuffed animal into her palm. “Jack got it as an apology gift to you.”

She pressed it against her chest, clutching it the same way his son had days before. “That’s one sweet kid you’ve got there.”’

“One who desperately wants to see you,” he chuckled again.

“Well,” she said, grabbing her purse and keys. “Let’s go home then.”

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 23 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

hello my loves! Some of you may have already seen this, but I have news! This fic is officially complete. There are thirty chapters, so you still have seven left after today’s update. I’ll be keeping the usual Tuesday/Saturday posting schedule, so you have a month left of updates.

Now that I am done drafting this fic, my requests will be open while I begin to bank up new chapters of the Hotch x Reader Scandal!AU that I plan to write next. Please send in requests here. I would also LOVE if you could fill out this survey about the Scandal!AU so I can get a sense of what you all would like. I will make sure to write it in a way that makes sense, even if you haven’t seen Scandal! 

As always, thanks so much for reading, y’all are just the best. 

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: canon-typical descriptions of violence, cursing, hospital mention

wordcount: 2.3k 

A little while later, Hotch sends JJ and Emily to the school to interview the classmates of the students who had been murdered, and you and Morgan head off to the medical examiner’s office. 

“Find anything interesting in the calls from the tip line?” Morgan asks you as he pulls out of the parking lot, and you shrug. 

“I need to go back through my notes. There were a couple kids' names that came up, but I want to go back and cross check for the names that came up more than once-- i figure if the name only comes up once, it’s kids pranking each other and I don’t want to waste our time on dead ends. Garcia’s looking into a teacher for me, though.” 

“We just need a couple more puzzle pieces, and then it’ll all come together,” Derek says, more to himself than to you, and you murmur out your agreement as he pulls into the examiner’s office.

“Cause of death for Mrs. Mack and Mrs. Sutton was a gunshot wound to the neck. The daughters, to the abdomen,” the doctor says, passing over her report. “The men were all strangled. The boys by hand, the men with a garrote.”

“Any idea what order they were killed in?” You asked. 

“My guess is the women first, one right after the other. Then the sons, and the husbands.” 

“How did he stop the husbands from taking him down while he killed the sons?” Morgan asks skeptically. 

The medical examiner points out a bruise on Mr. Sutton’s skull. “Looks like he was knocked unconscious, maybe by the butt of the gun or something in the home.” She explains.

“Thank you,” you said to the medical examiner, who smiled and left you both to your work.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Morgan asks you.

“White man in his twenties or thirties, snubbed by a woman he desired for another man, taking out the families he’s convinced he’ll never have?” 

“Call Hotch,” he said, taking off at a brisk pace back towards the car and trusting you to follow. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and discovered that Garcia was already calling you. 

“Hi Garcia, can you patch Hotch in?” You asked. 

“Already here bug, and trust me, you’re gonna want to hear this.” She told you, and you put the phone on speaker so Morgan could listen in while he drove. 

“What did you find, Garcia?” Hotch asked. 

“So, I looked into Marc Vexper, and it turns out this long-term English sub has something to hide-- he didn’t make a single card purchase on either day that he was out, and his phone was completely off from the moment he stepped off the school’s campus to the time he returned.” 

“Morgan and I are just leaving the medical examiner’s office now-- Marc fits the profile to a tee.” You interject. 

“Oh but wait, the high school of horrors doesn’t end there,” Garcia warns you. “I took a peek at Marc’s texts looking for clues about his whereabouts, and I noticed some too-friendly chats with Victoria Sullivan, a student in his AP Literature class. Her phone was on both days, and I’ll give you one guess as to where she was both days-- and it wasn’t school.” 

“You’re kidding,” Morgan sighs out. 

“So did he groom Victoria into doing it herself, or was she an accomplice?” Hotch asked. 

“The men were strangled, Aaron. There’s no way she could have done that herself.” You tell him. 

“We need an address, Penelope.” Hotch demands. 

“Already on your phone. The station’s closest.” She tells you. 

“We’ll meet you there.” Hotch says, and the line clicks. 

In a routine you’ve performed too many times to count, Morgan flicks on the lights and sirens as you mount your phone with the GPS sending you in the right direction. It’s all the same as it usually is, so why are you so nervous? 

**********************

Hotch elects not to put on his lights and sirens as he approaches Mr. Vexper’s house, not wanting to alert him that anyone had found him out. There are two cars in the driveway-- a modest sedan with a few dings in it, and a shitbox of an old jeep with a parking permit for the local high school on the back bumper. 

“The girl is here-- she might be a hostage.” Hotch tells Spencer, who nods. “We need to be careful. There’s no need for any other kids to lose their lives,” he says, quietly opening up his car door and gesturing for Spencer to take a back entrance while he takes the front. He climbs the worn wooden steps and peeks into the window, seeing nothing before he takes one hand off of his gun to swing open the front door of the home, where he’s met face to face with the Victoria Sullivan, standing on the main stairway of the home, gun leveled square at the middle of his forehead. 

“Victoria, put the gun down,” Hotch says slowly, raising his own hands as a sign of good faith. “I’m here to help you. Where’s Marc?”

Before Victoria can answer, Hotch hears the woosh of metal in the air and feels an overwhelming crack in his legs, falling to the ground as he yelps in pain. 

“Run, Vicky! You know where to go!” Marc yells, and the girl disappears from Hotch’s blurring line of vision as March continues to beat on Hotch with a crowbar, stomping on his legs. 

Hotch vaguely hears Spencer's running footsteps, and Marc takes off, running in the same direction as Victoria. 

Spencer falls to the ground next to Hotch, attempting to gently tend to his injuries, but Hotch weakly waves him off. 

“Go, go, save the girl, he’ll kill her next. I’m okay. Go,” he coughs out, and after a moment’s hesitation, Spencer goes. 

Hotch groans as he gropes around in his pants pocket, pulling out his cell phone and calling Garcia. 

“I need help,” he says once the line clicks.

****************

If Aaron lived through this, you were going to kill him yourself. You knew you were being irrational, you knew it wasn’t his fault, and worst of all you know that he hadn’t even done something you could be mad at him for, like going in without backup. This was just the job. This just happened sometimes. And you were absolutely fucking livid that it was happening to him. Not to mention scared shitless. 

Morgan had pumped the gas as soon as Garcia called, but it still wasn’t fast enough. Your leg bounced anxiously in the passenger seat. 

“He’s gonna be fine,” Morgan attempted to placate you, but you wouldn’t have it. 

“You don’t know that,” you spat out. 

“He’s tough. He’s got a lot to stick around for. He’s gonna be okay,” He tells you, and this time you don’t argue.

When you finally pull up to the house, Aaron is on a stretcher being loaded onto an ambulance. You throw yourself out of the SUV before it’s even fully stopped, calling out for Aaron. 

“I’m okay,” he sputters out as you climb into the back of the ambulance. 

“No you aren’t, you asshole,” you scoffed at him, your voice a little watery. “Tell the paramedics what happened so they can help you,” you said, stroking at the hair at the top of his head as your chin quivered. 

“Don’t cry,” he says, reaching up for you and you see that his hands are bloody. 

“Shh, shhh. Don’t worry about me. Let them help you,” you calmed him down, trying not to let your tears interrupt the medics when his eyes roll into the back of his head and he loses consciousness.

 Aaron will live, and you suppose you won’t follow through on your threats to kill him. Once he’s in the hospital, they wheel him back to a restricted area, leaving you alone in a waiting room while the rest of the team finds the unsub. You call Jess, let her know what’s going on, but ask that she keep it from Jack until you’re back in the room with him and Hotch is able to talk to Jack himself. You didn’t want Jack to worry, and you knew that Aaron’s assurance that he was fine was the only comfort Jack would accept.

After a while-- it could have been thirty minutes or three hours, Emily appears in the waiting room..

“I was appointed to come check on you,” she says by way of greeting. “Have you seen him yet?”

“Not since they took him out of the ambulance. He looked… bad,” you struggle to find a word that explains the magnitude of it. 

“He’s gonna be fine. No gunshot wounds, just some nasty bruises. I’m sure it looked worse than it actually was.” She consoles you gently.

“I hope you’re right.”

At that moment, a doctor appears in the doorway. “For Agent Hotchner?” He asks, and you walk over to him. 

“I’m Aaron’s partner,” you explain, the word “girlfriend” feeling entirely too childish for the scenario. 

“Agent Hotchner is going to be just fine. His left leg is fractured slightly at the femur and the kneecap, but we’ve put him in a brace to stabilize the knee, and he should recover over the next eight to twelve weeks. He’ll need some physical therapy, and field work is out of the question until he is cleared, but he’ll make a full recovery.  He has a mild concussion and a few bruised ribs, but we’ve given him some meds for the pain and the concussion shouldn’t present any further complications.” 

No field work. Aaron was going to be pissed. “Thank you, doctor.” You said gratefully. 

“He’s been asking for you, if you’d like to follow me,” The doctor responds, and you allow him to lead you down a maze of hallways, leaving you just outside Aaron’s room, where his eyes are shut and his chest rises and falls slowly. Figures, you were sure he’d been up all night running through profiles in his head.

You sat on his right side, away from his injured leg, and rested your head against his mattress, near his hip bone. He looked so fragile like this, wrapped up in a thin blanket and a johnny, bandaged from his collar bone to his toes. You wondered, briefly, if he felt this helpless and frustrated the night that he picked you up from your old apartment. The tears well up against your will, but you allow them to fall, for a few moments. You had earned the right to care for him, to worry about him, to fret. You had earned the right to sit vigil at his hospital bed and try to force images of a lifetime lived without him to stop passing through your head. 

Aaron stirred, and you sucked in a quick breath, not wanting to wake him. He settled, again, and you rested your head back against the mattress, letting the gentle rhythm of his breath lull you to sleep. 

He twitches a little while later, and the sudden movement jolts you awake. His return to the waking world is slower, and you let him come at it at his own pace, not wanting to overwhelm him when he was probably already going to be in pain and disoriented. You hear him mumble out your name and you stand, placing one hand on his cheek and the other in his uninjured palm. 

“I’m right here, baby,” you whispered to him. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to look you up and down without moving his neck. 

“Am I--” you chided gently. “Honey, I’m fine. Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” 

“My leg,” he tells you, trying to sit up, but you push back on his shoulders. 

“Absolutely not,” you tell him. “You broke your leg. You are staying in this bed until a doctor tells you otherwise.” 

“Fuck,” Aaron muttered out. Suddenly, a thought occurs to him. “Is Spencer okay? And the girl, Victoria Sullivan?” 

“The team took them both alive. Spencer is fine, just a little breathless from his run.” You tell him. 

“When is it gonna heal?” He switches topics back to his injury. 

“You mean, when are you going to be allowed into the field again?” You asked skeptically, and he at least has the good grace to look sheepish. “Not for at least six weeks, more than likely closer to ten, plus physical therapy.” 

“God damnit,” Aaron sighs. 

“It could have been a lot worse, Aaron,” you point out softly, and he looks up at you. 

“You’ve been crying.” He says softly. 

“No, I haven’t.” 

“Don’t lie to a profiler,” He chides you gently.

“Well, I’m the woman who loves you and I’ve earned the right to cry when you’re hurt.” You said defensively, but not unkindly.

“Hey, I’m okay. Really, I swear. Come up here,” he urges you, and you roll your watery eyes. 

“I’ll hurt you,” you tell him. 

“You’ll hurt me worse if you don’t come cuddle,” he pouts. 

“Corny bastard,” you chuckle, tenderly sliding into bed next to him. 

Unable to shift and cuddle, Aaron settles for reaching out for your hand, which you allow him to take in his own. He strokes his thumb over the back of your palm tenderly. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispers, and you might start crying again right there.

“Don’t do it again. I was ready to kill you myself,” you warned him. 

“Noted.” 

“We should call Jack. I didn’t tell him what was going on, I didn’t want to scare him. Jess knows.” 

“I just… want to hold your hand for a couple more minutes.” 

“Okay, love. A few more minutes.”

tagging:  @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads

[whump-town]

Was Hotch Abused?

I offer you my 2,300+ worded thoughts on the matter with episodes included. There's going to be lots and lots of talk about abuse so you're going to want to steer clear of that if that's something you're not cool with but for those of you interested... I give you all the proof I could think of:

Natural Born Killer.

In the eighth episode of the first season, “Natural Born Killer”, we meet Vincent Perrotta. His father was abusive but from the outside looking in, no one knew a thing. Perrotta started drinking at fourteen and committed petty crimes, as well as assault, for pleasure. Going as far as to kill his own father not too long after. But Perrotta is a monster and a psychopath so it’s clear we’re not supposed to sympathize which makes his interaction with Hotch so peculiar.

Hotch is our “Captain America”. A true neutral with an infinity for doing what’s right so it’s inconceivable to compare him to Perrotta and yet Hotch gives us some rather conflicting lines to dissect.

Before Gideon hands the interview over to Hotch, he spends a moment talking with the others out in the bullpen. The whole time he’s leaned back and he’s watching Morgan and Hotch. Now, at this point, we don’t know about the sexual abuse Derek Morgan faced at the hands of Carl Buford but there’s something about the way that Gideon spends the entirety of the conversation only looking at the two of them. Waiting for them to put together what he clearly already has and when Hotch does…

Hotch jumps straight into Perrotta’s profile, asking: “You grew up in a house that looked normal and happy, didn’t you Vincent?”, “But your father beat you every chance he got”

Perrotta excuses it with a shrug, “he smacked me around some, didn’t everybody’s old man?”

Abuse is a complicated thing and, often, abused children just don’t know what their parents are doing to them is abuse. It can be a subtle and outright thing but there’s an element of normalcy to it. The parent’s abuse is as habitual, as minimal as biting your nails to the child. Adults often can’t identify their parent’s past abuse.

With Hotch you learn that his lack of expression is often as telling as his expressions and as Hotch looks back at Perrotta, there’s something so sad about his eyes. His voice goes from loud, assertive to his whispered answer to Perrotta’s question. “No.” As if, well, maybe that’s a question he’d raised once too.

Perrotta doesn’t care about that though and he taunts “well, maybe if yours had you would have learned to fight”. But is it not more telling that Hotch didn’t make a sound? Perrotta got in several hits and the only sound Hotch made was when the wind was literally punched out of him. Not even when Gideon called to him and at that point, Perrotta did not the garrote around Hotch’s throat. That’s another thing mentioned before in the profile and something Hotch mentions to Perrotta directly. You learn to take the beatings, smile even. So, it’s just a little odd how little Hotch responded…

But that’s all nothing, you can take that how you want

Which leads us to the fateful, not everyone comment.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent. When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers"

That can’t mean NOTHING, there’s so much there but there’s something about Hotch’s subtle wording. The way he’s unconsciously slipped himself in there (a very real thing that people do) and he hasn’t even realized it. Doesn’t even know he’s done it until Perrotta pushes and he pauses, asks what Perrotta means. And the subtly of it, the way he doesn’t even mean to that says more than anything else.

“And some people grow up to catch them.”

It’s a super-specific comment to make. He can’t possibly be talking about Derek because he doesn’t even know about Carl Buford yet not to mention saying that about him would be incredibly rude if he were talking about Reid (and again, he doesn’t know about Reid’s childhood yet). So… that really only leaves him because JJ, Garcia, and Elle were not abused.

“P911”

In season two, episode two “P911” the team is hunting down a man trying to sell a young boy, Peter, on the black market. Kevin Rose is an underage boy “selling” himself on the internet while his abusive father has been in prison. I’ll let you just guess who it is that leads the team on finding out more about Kevin.

Your guess is more than likely right-- Morgan and Hotch. Now, we know about Morgan but come on. Nothing to say about it being Hotch who makes the emotional appeal?

The camera even follows his gaze, he’s crouched down (to appear non-threatening because he’s so close) and we watch his eyes take in the scars on Kevin’s chest. You can also note that while Gideon remarks that Kevin’s father was “always drunk, you never knew why he was hurting you, why he was so angry” both Kevin and Hotch look away from him.

AND FUCKING TRY AND TELL ME THE “some grow up to catch them” LINE WAS NOTHING TRY BECAUSE GUESS WHAT GIDEON SAYS? NO, NO GUESS--

Gideon: “At night you’d cry yourself to sleep hoping someone would come and save you”

And it’s HOTCH, HOTCH IS THE ONE TO SAY: “You have the chance to be the one who saves someone, Kevin. You can be the one who answers him, the one who stops his pain.”

PARALLELS PEOPLE THE PARALLELS

“Profiler, Profiled”

I bet you weren’t expecting this one, huh? But there’s something about people who faced trauma that makes it so perceptible to other traumatized people-- they sniff it out like coke to a drug hound. And, just guess, who it is that spends the majority of his time fighting with Morgan? Who knows (like I said about the bloodhound) immediately there is something Morgan’s hiding.

Hotch is angry, he’s upset that Morgan would hide anything. Mumbling about there being “larger implications” and how the team can’t have secrets. With the knowledge of exactly what that secret is it makes Gideon’s eye roll a little telling. Because it’s like they both know but neither will say. Driven home by Gideon turning the attention to Hotch, asking “would you want us profiling you?”

And again Hotch is the one to leap onto the abuse. The one to put the pieces together. Hotch’s anger makes no sense. He says he’s angry that Derek’s keeping a secret but the team has many, way too many. Over the years the team unwraps all kinds of secrets, he’s never angry then. So, it’s not about the implication of a secret at all. It’s what the secret is, like misplaced anger. Anger with himself may be leftover from his own abuse. But still…

Hotch lets Morgan escape. Knows exactly who and what Carl Buford is but all he tells the team is that “he won’t even speak about him”. He always knows how to find the abuse… like I said, a bloodhound.

George Foyet

I know you’re going to find this so fucking surprising but guess who also was abused? George Foyet was beaten by his biological father and his mother didn’t save him so he hates women (bleh, men are disgusting what’s knew).

Now, blah, blah, blah Hannah, I know you’re not about to say Foyet and Hotch are a lot alike-- no of course not. Don’t be silly. What I’m going to say is that they’re foil characters? They accent one another in an opposites sort of way. Foyet is a manipulative narcissist who doesn’t work well with others. Hotch is a guilt-ridden team leader who can’t let The Reaper’s case go. There are meant to be comparisons drawn between them. A good villain does that. George Foyet shows us that Hotch is not at all this removed, cool guy that we’ve previously assumed him to be. He cries in an alley because he blames himself when The Reaper kills a busload of people.

We see he has a rather compulsive nature. He never let The Reaper case go and has very personal ties in this case. Not even after Foyet attacks him, if anything it’s worse. He brings the case file home.

But it’s certainly interesting to see yet another “villain” with that same tragic abusive father and submissive mother come into play with Hotch. We’re nearing a point where it’s getting hard to call it coincidence (and according to David Rossi, there simply is not such thing).

Haunted.

In the second episode of the fifth season, “Haunted”, Hotch voice’s over a Dickinson quote: “One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing. Material place.” These quotes are often cheesy, if not a little cliché, but given the premise of this episode is in exploring the ways in which a man’s traumatic childhood has left him now grappling for a truth he can not define… well, maybe we can say the writers were onto something here.

Darrin Call, debatably the Unsub of “Haunted”, was abused by an alcoholic father. We see several signs of it throughout the episode-- Darrin’s delayed speech & severe neglect that leaves Darrin in dirty, hole-riddled clothing. If what we see is not enough, the reports that the team is given on Darrin explicitly state that he was extremely physically abused. It is this abuse that leads to the PTSD that he’s diagnosed with.

As sad and disheartening as Darrin Call’s life is, overall it’s the sort of episode that is forgotten over time. When it’s placed right after the episode that viewers have to watch Hotch say goodbye to Haley and Jack then, who is Darrin Call when compared to the agony of watching Hotch show genuine weakness? After watching Hotch lay in a hospital bed, tears in his eyes wondering if his son will remember him? His fears become our own and after watching George Foyet disarm and mutilate the one guy we’ve been led to believe for five seasons is infallibly, unflinchingly never going to break… well, Darrin Call has it bad but our focus is elsewhere.

It’s on Hotch, right?

The guy who is coming back to the job after only a month (and a day) off to recover. Who Morgan worries might have PTSD but he knows they can’t easily measure because Hotch wrote the questionnaire, he knows all the right answers. Who we see has had new locks installed since the attack and has Foyet’s file sitting open on a table for easy access. Who hears Darrin Call’s life (worked the same job without promotion for years before getting fired, no wife, no kids, a hermit) and bluntly asks why Darrin hasn’t just killed himself.

And let’s just take a moment to break down that comment. Hotch, who in the episode previously lost his wife and child, wants to know why a man who is steadily starting to sound a lot like him hasn’t just killed himself.

And I don’t say “sounds a lot like him” lightly.

Darrin Call has PTSD. Hotch, more than likely, has PTSD

Here are some signs just from that episode: hostility (he yelled at Garcia over something very small), self-destructive behavior (he ran into Darrin Call’s father’s house without a vest, back-up, or telling the other’s what he was doing), and guilt (blamed himself for missing the eye twitching Darrin exhibited because of his years of antipsychotic use)

Darrin Call was abused… this marks the second HEAVILY implied time that Hotch has been compared to another man abused by his father

Vincent Perrotta was the first with that hard to forget the exchange

George Foyet and his notably exactly the same past as Perrotta

“Haunted” feels like it’s supposed to prove to the audience that Hotch is losing it. He distances himself from Morgan, leaving every room that Morgan is in. He doesn’t pick up Garcia’s calls after Darrin Call attacks his therapist. The only glimpse we see of the old Hotch is with Emily, pulled to the side, but his guilt burns and he even brushes her off. Shaking his head and turning his back to her because somehow he should have seen something no one else did.

Throw in Reid’s comment about Call “victims are often drawn to the scene of their first trauma” and we’re painfully reminded of Hotch’s apartment. A place you’d think he’d want to escape but didn’t. The man was stabbed nine times in his own apartment and stayed in that same place. Almost sounds like that statement could be applied to Hotch too.

A dash of Hotch’s own comment about where Call would go to in his confusion and he says “to what he knows”, even the importance of how that orphanage is “where he became Darrin Call”. Where does Hotch go? What does Hotch know? The job.

So… we tally now three total Unsubs that Hotch has this direct relationship with. Three Unsubs with abusive fathers and mothers who couldn’t protect them. Hmm… coincidence?

Brothers Hotchner

Supervisor Special Agent Hotchner is a master of hiding, that is undeniable. It’s hard to see anything behind those furrowed brows and impersonal suits and that’s likely for a reason. However, anyone with a little sibling can tell you that no one on this Earth can and will annoy the ever-loving shit out of you like a sibling.

But that’s not really important. Sean and Hotch don’t talk about their parents. At all. Ever.

Hotch says that when Sean was in the first grade he got sent off to boarding school. “I was the screw-up making bad choices”. Interesting enough of a statement to make but you throw in the rough ages of Sean and Hotch at that time and it’s a little more than just “interesting”. You have Hotch at roughly 14-15 getting into trouble just like Morgan did at that same age (coincidence???).

(now you can certainly look at Hotch’s parentification vs. Sean’s immaturity doubled with substance abuse problems but we’d be stretching. “The Tribe” touches on the parentification but Sean just calls it “the big brother” thing and tells Hotch that he’s not Sean’s father and it’s fine it’s whatever. Hotch is a bit pushy. That’s not new. Substance abuse can just be a problem, it doesn’t have to be bc they were abused but again… a little coincidental)

So... was Aaron Hotchner abused as a child? I certainly think so

[aubreyprc]

it’s you

13 & 14 & 50 - please don’t make me choose - you’re choosing her over me? - i shouldn’t still be in love with you

summary - hotch and emily start seeing each other during his separation with haley. when haley wants to try again six months later he accepts, his wish to be a family unit for his son a bigger priority than anything else. three months later things just aren’t the same, and haley gives him an ultimatum. (i hate this sm but . oh well. hope u love it hehe)

word count 1.6k

-

She always knew it would end like this. End with him apologising, telling her that if things were different then maybe it would be them. She always knew he’d go back to Haley… so she doesn’t fight, doesn’t cry or shout, she simply accepts it, tells him it’s okay, that it’s his family and she understands. She always knew he would never choose her, she never expected him to, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t hate him just a little for what he did. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t wish it was her. Because she does, she always will. They had six months of something, he and Haley had a lifetime, and she knows there’s no competition, knows he’ll always pick his family, his son, and so she kissed him goodbye and told him to go, a sad smile on her face as he leaned his forehead on hers, and then he was gone, a married man once again, and they make a silent vow to pretend they never happened.

That was three months ago.

She remains distant with him, guarded and pretends as though he didn’t break her heart, pretends as though she didn’t fall for him, for them over the course of the six months and pushes down any feelings completely. She won’t meet his eye, so she never realises he can’t meet hers either, they don’t partake in small talk or any talk, remaining as professional as they can while ignoring the way her heart shatters every time she catches sight of the ring on his finger, the ring that wasn’t there during their… time together, a ring on the hand she used to hold. A ring that means he doesn’t belong to her. A ring that means he never did. She shuts him out completely, forces herself to forget he even exists outside of work, outside of Hotch, because it’s a lot easier than accepting she loves a man who didn’t choose her… loves a man who will never love her back.

He still can’t look either woman in the eye, not really, still can’t look at his wife without thinking about Emily, still can’t look at Emily without feeling guilty, a guilt that runs deeper than anything he’s ever felt before, because it’s guilt for what did he…for what he’s doing to both of them. To Haley and Emily. For having them both stuck in the middle of a war neither are aware they’re in, his heart craving the both of them simultaneously, his want, his need for his son to grow up in a family unit, with both parents in one household something he clings onto in moments where he fears he made the wrong choice, but after three months of that being the main reason why he went home, why he went back to the woman he isn’t sure he can truly love the same again, he starts to doubt whether his choice was what was best for him. For Haley. For Jack.

After three months of distance and arguments that never really get resolved, his marriage is right back to the way it was before she left, and he starts to wonder if he made the right decision at all.

“I cant have this argument with you again, Aaron.” Haley sighs as she turns, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “It’s exhausting.”

“Then stop picking fights with me. Talk to me about it, instead of letting it build up until we wound up right back where we were six months ago.” he says, looking at her as she huffs.

“Six months ago I wasn’t in competition with a woman who—” she stops, shaking her head. “If we want our marriage to work we can’t stay here, Aaron. You’re constantly around the woman you were seeing, your job has affected us for years and we need a fresh start… do you even want us? This?”

“I came home didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean you want it.” she says quietly. “You’re going to have to choose.”

“Choose?”

“Us. This marriage. Our family… or D.C, the job…. Emily.” she tells him, “I won’t come second to her, Aaron. I can’t.”

“Haley—”

“If you really wanted us, me, it would be an easy choice…”

“I’ve worked hard for this job—”

“This is not about the job and we both know it.” she tells him, “I’m asking you, I need to know.”

“Please don’t make me choose.” he says softly, and she smiles sadly, tilting her head.

“Because you’ll choose her?” she whispers, and he drops his head, the idea of leaving Emily behind leaving an extreme pain in his chest and he knows then, that he has to follow his heart rather than his head, rather than the picture of a happy family he and Haley had dreamed of years ago, because it’s not a happy family.. he and Emily, they’re happy, and that’s what his son deserves to grow up around. “You’re choosing her over me?” she asks.

“I’m choosing to set us free.” he tells her, “we’ve been over for years, Haley. Jack didn’t fix it, the separation didn’t fix it…”

“There’s a saying..” Haley whispers, “that if you fall in love with two people, to always choose the second, because if you truly loved the first your—”

“Heart wouldn’t have been opened for the second.” he finishes with her, and she smiles at him sadly.

“At least we can say we tried…” she says, and he laughs.

“We tried… probably more than we should have.” he smiles as she chuckles. “I really am sorry… for everything.”

“Me too.” she whispers, “I’m sure we’ll come out of this better… for each other, for our son.”

“I know we will.” he promises her and she nods.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” she smirks, “someone you should speak to?” she asks and he laughs. “Go.” she laughs with him, “we can talk to Jack tomorrow, he’s still young. He’ll be fine.”

“So will you.” he tells her and she nods, before all but forcing him out of the door.

“Good luck,” she smiles, “I hope she loves you as much as you love her.” she says and he laughs, before getting into the car, releasing a breath as he drives to Emily, his heart filling with hope as he refuses to let himself panic.

-

The panic doesn’t really set in until he stands at her door, a deep breath stuck in his chest as he raises his hand to knock only to freeze mid way, taken over by nerves, casting his mind back to how he had ended things, to how different they had been afterwards, how distant she had become with him, never alone with him, never the two of them in casual conversation like before, he expected it to be different, but stood at her door now, he fears that she’ll not want him back, refuse to accept that he wants to be with her, tell him it’s too late and he almost walks away, but the idea of never knowing if they could have been will haunt him, he knows that, so he knocks, releasing the breath and clears his throat, tensing his hand in a fist when he hears the door unlock.

Her eyes widen when she sees him, shock taking over her face.

“What—” she stops, running a hand through her hair. “What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice laced with confusion.

“Can we talk?” he asks her, frowning slightly when she looks away from him. “Are you okay?”

“Talk about what?” she asks him, he stays silent “Aaron, you’re married. You chose to go back to your wife. What are you doing here?”

“We ended it. Haley and I. We’re done. For good this time.” he tells her and she looks at him sadly.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him softly. “Are you okay?”

“It’s been over for awhile, going back was a mistake.” he tells her, nodding his head. “That’s why I’m here…” he says, meeting her eye for the first time in months and she opens her door, allowing him to step past her.

“I made a mistake three months ago.” he blurts out, knowing if he didn’t take the chance while he had the courage, he never would. “I knew I was going back for the wrong reasons, but I went anyway. And I’m sorry for that.”

“You chose your family.” she tells him, “I told you… It’s okay—”

“It’s not,” he tells her, “It’s not okay and it’s not fair, on either of you. I shouldn’t have gone back to her when I knew I had fallen for you.” he tells her, “I should have been able to let you to, and to be with my wife… But I can’t. Because I love you.”

“Aaron—” she starts, but he stops her.

“I shouldn’t still love you, but I do. I love you, Emily. And I’m sorry for not choosing you, I’m sorry for all of it. But I’m here now. Choosing you.”

“You love me?” she asks quietly and he smiles, cupping her cheek gently.

“I love you, completely.” he tells her, his smile is widening as her own grows. “I want this. You.” he whispers.

“Three months ago you wanted your wife…”

“For all the wrong reasons. I want you for all the right ones.” he smiles when she laughs.

“If you break my heart again I will kill you.” she warns.

“I don’t ever plan to.” he promises, and she kisses him, let’s herself fall into him for the second time, yet this time, hope fills into their chest, and love runs through the both of them.

“I love you too.” she whispers against his lips, and he kisses her smile, a promise of forever in the air.

[britishassistant]

I wonder what the supervillains (the dorm leaders) would do if they get switched with their other self in Twisted Wonderland.

They'll meet a younger Yuu calls them senpai and probably get shivers when they hear someone shout Prefect but then realize its Yuu's role in that world.

Bonus would be if Yuuken's there too, sharing the dorm with Yuu.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

I decided to take a little inspo from my Villainous Paranoiac series for this one! Not a whole lot, but the idea of Twisted Wonderland Yuu being put in the infirmary after the events of Chapter Five!

(Also consider it non-canon, since it kinda involves everyone’s identities being exposed!)

Basically imagine that the supervillains find themselves in what looks like a private school infirmary, late at night. The air is buzzing with a strange energy, almost like the powers back in their home world, but...different, somehow.

The room nearly empty, save for one occupant in a cot close to the door.

Poison Queen and King immediately begin bickering over whose fault this mess is, while Royal Flush tries to get them to keep their voices down or else they’ll be detected. Charon is half a minute from going to curl up in a corner, clutching his freeze ray like a lifeline, while Octo Dealer and Snake Charmer are busy inspecting their surroundings for anything of value or that can be requisitioned into a weapon on short notice.

Tsunotaro has wandered over to inspect the sole other living being in the room with them.

He is pleasantly surprised to see what looks like a younger version of the reporter he’s so fond of, fast asleep in the infirmary cot. Their cheeks still retain the last bit of baby fat from childhood, and there’s some acne left that will fade with age. He may give one cheek a gentle poke, just to satisfy his curiosity. The sleepy mumble they let out is a little more high pitched than normal, but that’s the reporter’s voice alright.

He is less pleased to see dark circles under their eyes, or the bandages around their throat that stink of medicinal salves. If this truly is a younger version of his child of man, then why do they look so worried, even in sleep? Why are they injured and sleeping in this place of healing in the first place? They’re a mere child, barely old enough to operate a vehicle or live alone. Their only worries should be trivial things, not whatever is causing this furrow in their brow and hunch in their shoulders.

The other supervillains have begun to migrate over to where Tsunotaro is crouching in silent contemplation. King flips his eyepatch up to get a better look, whistling lowly. Octo Dealer busies himself with refilling their water glass, sneaking glances at them as he places it within easy reach. Snake Charmer pulls their pillow more under their head from where it’s almost slipped off. Poison Queen straightens the arrangement of the very tasteful bouquet on the bedside table, so the flowers’ best angle is shown to the bed’s occupant. Royal Flush carefully tucks their covers in over them.

Charon takes a picture with his tablet.

He forgot to turn off his flash.

Yuu cracks their eyes open...

To see seven adults looming over their bed in masks that resemble the ink from the overblots that haunt the Prefect’s nightmares.

Cue terrified screaming.

Snake Charmer lunges forward instinctively to cover Yuu’s mouth—

It’s only thanks to Poison Queen yanking him back that he doesn’t end up with an arrow in the shoulder.

Several more follow the first one through the window above the prefect’s cot, cold iron sharp and perfectly aimed to seriously maim if the supervillains don’t immediately get away from the screaming teenager. Rook was lax in protecting the Trickster after VDC ended, assuming there was no more danger after Roi du Poison’s overblot was saved. He will not make that mistake again.

The infirmary doors burst open, a younger Yuuken in a sleep-rumpled uniform barging in from where he decided to sleep outside because Ramshackle felt too empty and quiet to bear, but was forbidden from staying in the infirmary himself. He only has a pillow, but he brandishes it at the strange adults, fully willing to defend his dorm mate in whatever way he can.

The vanguard appears in a flurry of bats though, too many to fight off, small and vicious and furious. Their commander materializes in the center if the swarm, hovering over the head of Yuu’s cot, pink eyes brimming with a cold rage that makes his small and cute form look like it’s bursting at the seams holding something much older and angrier back. He opens his mouth, fangs long and glistening—

Only to stop short at the sight of one of the supervillains. “Malleus? Malleus Draconia?”

Tsunotaro nods warily.

“Wh-What in Twisted Wonderland are you wearing??”

Tsunotaro ducks his head like a chastened child. “I could say the same thing.” He mutters sullenly.

From there the lights get turned on, and the seven supervillains are made to explain themselves to the sleep-deprived students and staff who trickle in to see what’s going on. All six dorm leaders and one vice dorm leader vanished from their beds, setting everyone on high alert until news of these...alternate versions spread.

It is very weird for the supervillains to see all their minions as teenagers (again in some cases). It is only surpassed by how weird it is for everyone else to see their dorm heads and vice head all grown up and adult, even if they are dressed weird.

Ortho still wants to shoot them with a beam until they bring back his nii-san. Luckily Charon is able to convince him that Idia should be fine if he’s in Charon’s lair—he’s got plenty of the latest games, manga and tech for him to play with, so that should keep him occupied for a while.

Sebek is in a state of Malleus awe. He has shut down and will not restart. Silver has taken to pinching himself just to make sure this isn’t a Lilia’s cooking induced fever dream, while Lilia himself scolds Tsunotaro that he raised him better than to go around watching people sleep like that! Tsunotaro tries to use the “but I’m a supervillain” excuse, only for Lilia to shoot back “and I’m a war criminal in some nations, what’s your point?”

King is enjoying watching the overgrown lizard get scolded. Now if only the tiny Ruggie would stop asking him what injury the eyepatch is for, and making remarks about how embarrassing it would be if it were totally pointless—King does not pay his adult self so much to put up with this shit. The baby Jack also needs to stop demanding to know if his adult minion self can pull a sled faster than a moose or something...

Jade and Floyd are attempting to wind up the adult Octo Dealer, trying to see how much they can get away with compared with the normal Azul. Octo Dealer is legitimately at a loss as to how this world’s Azul doesn’t keep them in line without letting them turn to a crime or two. Then he learns about Azul’s contract business and feels a pang of commiseration and understanding.

Poison Queen, Royal Flush, and Snake Charmer are unpleasantly shocked when their dorms address them by their respective secret identities in front of their fellow supervillains out of the blue.

Poison Queen has to put up with King’s uncontrolled laughter as he finally understands the full extent of the incident with White Neige so long ago, while Tsunotaro tries to tell him he liked Schoenheit in his role as the evil dragon prince in the GaoGao dramatization. Royal Flush is about two seconds away from throttling Octo Dealer if the bastard doesn’t stop trying to make a deal to guarantee his mother doesn’t learn about her son’s private activities. Snake Charmer’s just glad his civilian identity flies under the radar enough that Charon has to try and look him up to understand who he is (and fails because he’s not on school wifi and his cellular data is bust).

Poison Queen is also getting a headache from Rook rhapsodizing about how his villain form is another, enhanced mode of beauty he is fortunate to lay eyes upon, as if he hadn’t been willing to skewer Poison Queen along with the rest of the supervillains five minutes ago. He’s at least able to amuse himself by letting Epel run away with his speculations about how he’s the buff hyper-masculine muscle for Poison Queen.

Kalim is crying that Jamil had to resort to becoming a villain in his home world! He must be so sad if he has to do that! He’s mildly cheered up when Snake Charmer tells him they work together on schemes, and that Snake Charmer is actually reasonably happy with his chosen vocation—and then he begins panicking that Jamil will like that world so much, he won’t want to come back.

Royal Flush is glad his counterpart at least has good people around to look after him, even if it is odd to have young versions of Trey and Cater trying to mother hen him despite the fact that he’s the older one now. At least Ace and Deuce acting up seems more fitting now considering their age than it ever did on their adult selves.

Ace huffs a sigh and leans on Yuu’s shoulder. “This is a mess, huh Prefect?”

“You said it.” Yuu replies. “I just wanna sleep forever.”

The supervillains go still.

“I’m sorry,” Snake Charmer says carefully. “But isn’t Enma-san the Prefect?”

“No?” Yuuken replies, confused. “Yuu’s the prefect of Ramshackle Dorm. I’m their vice— or would be, if we had any other students apart from them, me, and Grim.”

Octo Dealer laughs, sounding slightly strained. “Ah, apologies, but you see, that isn’t possible. It can’t be. Yuu isn’t—”

“But I am the prefect, Azul-senpai.” Yuu the Prefect says. “I’ve–I’ve always been the prefect.”

There’s a stunned silence.

Royal Flush places his head in his hands. “What the fuck.”

Back in the Supervillain AU universe, Yuu the Reporter sneezes sharply while trying to wrangle five frightened teenagers, one frightened-but-playing-tough twenty year old, and one confused however-old-he-is-but-younger-than-Tsunotaro fae.

They wonder what the chill down their spine is.

[elldell1204]

Hair Me Out - Spencer Reid x Reader

Y/N wears her hair in many different styles, and her boyfriend, Spencer, seems to appreciate each one in different ways.

A/N: So, I just wanted to add, I try to make my ‘reader’ as ambiguous as possible, that way you can identify with them more. However, I struggled with this one, as I am a white female with straight hair and not much knowledge of (though deep appreciation and love for) natural or curly hair, seeing as I have little to no experience. Therefore, I have tried making this as inclusive as possible but I’m sorry if at any point seems too specific and you can’t put yourself into the story. Feel free to call me out on anything you aren’t comfortable with!

Warnings: Slight sexual themes, swearing, normal Criminal minds stuff (let me know if I missed anything)

wc - 3,217

Dutch Braids -

You and Spencer had just gotten off from work about an hour ago after a gruelling day with an equally stressful case. Which is why as soon as you were both showered, dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find and waiting for the takeout to arrive, you were both sprawled out on the couch in front of a movie, having no energy left to talk, let alone move when there was a knock at the door. Seeing as you were the one with less of the other person’s body parts draped across you, you got up and answered while Spencer didn’t move an inch. You couldn’t blame him; the poor boy was exhausted.

Around twenty minutes later, you’d both eaten, leaving your plates on the coffee table in front of you with the mental promise to wash them later, and were back to snuggling into each other, getting as close as you possibly could to soothe each other after the day you had. Your head was tucked neatly into Spencer’s chest, your knees drawn up to near your chin in the foetal position, making yourself as small as possible. Spencer was the opposite; spread like a starfish with his arm around your back and his head rested against the back of the couch.

If someone were to ask you what the movie was about, you wouldn’t have a clue where to start. Truth is, you felt like you were stuck in-between both the lands of sleep and consciousness, due to wanting to spend some time with your boyfriend (despite him being your work partner for the best part of sixteen hours) but also wanting to sleep for three days. In attempt to make yourself just a little bit more awake, you started trying to focus on different things around you. First it was the quote on the front of the main character’s t-shirt, then it was the Metro you could faintly hear as the last train of the night rattled by, then it was Spencer’s finger tracing up and down one of your braids that you’d done quickly after your shower.

“Spence?” You murmured the first words spoken in practically an hour.

“Hmm?” He hummed in response, his half-lidded eyes shifting to your face that you had lifted to face him.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” His voice was merely a whisper, and if you weren’t listening for it, the only way you’d know he was speaking was from the vibration of his chest.

You gestured to your hair with your finger, and only when he realised did he stop what he was doing and chuckle lightly and dreamily.

“Oh, sorry, I’m not sure, it just feels soft, I guess. I’ll stop.”

“No, no, it’s okay, you can keep going.” You smiled at him, mustering up the energy to lean up and press a sweet kiss to his lips before retracting back to your previous position.

Ponytail -

To say you were having a bad day was an understatement. You usually like to try and stay as positive as you could be when chasing a serial, paedophilic murderer, but there’s only so many deep breaths and coffee breaks you can take before you really start to get pissed off. Not only had you been stuck in hot and sticky Texas for near a week, but you had also been put into single rooms at the hotel you were staying at. Now, not to sound ungrateful (because you very much are of the fact that you at least have a roof over your head), but only having one single bed to a room means that you can’t snuggle with Spencer after a long day, and these were proving to be very long days.

And to add to the problem, Hotch was constantly on edge since the start of the case, with the victims looking a hell of a lot like Jack, and when you were the closest person to him on that first day when his tensions finally boiled over, you had been the one in the firing line of his rage. Which you can take. You knew he didn’t mean it, and if he had to take his frustrations out on someone for a few days so he could do his job with a clearer head, you were happy to be the target.

But now after a particularly rough six days, your patience was wearing thin, and everyone on the team could see it, which is why they offered you and Spencer any jobs they were assigned that would get them out of the stifling police precinct. And you knew they had good intentions, but even that was starting to annoy you.

So now you were sat at the table in the conference room, a pen between your teeth as your eyes frantically search over the evidence you have piled in front of you, desperate for the answers to this case to fly off the page and hit you smack dab in the forehead so you could just go home and have a fight with a pillow or something, anything to destress.

You heard the footsteps coming from the doorway, but you refused to turn around. If it was Hotch, you swear to god you might actually lose your job with what you were thinking of doing if he was short with you one more time. If it was Morgan ready to hand you a first-class ticket to visit the slightly wrinkly and very smelly coroner again, you might actually flip the table.

“Hey, Y/N.” Spencer greeted you warmly, sitting on the table to your right as your eyes slowly lifted to meet his. No, not Spencer. Hold it together, Y/N, hold in your rage, he’s done nothing wrong. “Oh, I haven’t seen you with your hair tied back in a while. I like it.”

Such a sweet statement, and yet it broke you. You could see in his face the moment your eyes lit aflame with anger, and you couldn’t miss the harsh swallow he took to brace himself for your fury.

“Well, Dr Reid, let me teach you a lesson, shall I? 3 reasons. One, it is way more practical for kicking someone’s ass, and right now, I would love nothing more than catching the sleazy son-of-a-bitch who is deriving pleasure from this,” You gesture violently to the crime scene photos splayed out in front of you before continuing to spit your venom. “And beating the living shit out of him until he’s crying out for his mommy. Two, do you know how many officers have tried to flirt up a storm with me in the past week? Way too many to count on one fucking hand! One even went so far as to try stroking my hair like a goddamn cat, and so to avoid that situation, I have put it in a ponytail, because if anything of that nature happens again, I won’t hesitate to break someone’s arm. And three, I usually have it down because most men think you’re dumber when you play with your hair, or I can play seductive to get what I want without a warrant fifty percent of the time. But seeing as we have absolutely nobody on the suspect list right now, and the sheer fury I possess at this moment, I don’t foresee the possibility of me needing to be either of those things, do you?”

Your lungs were heaving once you were done, and poor Spencer looked like you just told him you were a Russian spy sent to kill him. Your eyes were locked onto each other’s, and when you came back to reality from your rant, you recognised the softness and love in his that you were grateful for every day. Granted, they were a little masked by fear right now, but you’d admired him often enough to be able to spot even the faintest hint of your favourite emotions.

You let out a deep sigh, signalling you were back to your normal self as much as you could be right then, before dropping your head into your hands to rub your eyes with the heel of your palms.

It was then you felt the unmistakeable warmth of Spencer’s hand rubbing soothing patterns on your back as you gathered yourself together, bringing tears to your eyes as you opened them once more to face him.

“Oh, Spencer,” You whispered, grabbing his hands tightly with yours, lifting them to your lips and pressing sweet kisses to his knuckles. “I’m so, so sorry. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

“It’s okay, my love.”

“No, it’s really not. I never should have raised my voice at you, especially when it’s not your fault at all that I’m frustrated.”

“Y/N, I understand.” He smiled at you, a small and sympathetic one, but it calmed you nonetheless as he stood, pulling you up from the chair to wrap his arms tightly around you. You gripped onto him like he might run away if you didn’t, breathing in the warm scent that is so unmistakeably Spencer. Your vision was now cloudy with the tears that so desperately wanted to spill, but you were adamant you wouldn’t give the local cops the satisfaction of seeing you with wet cheeks. Luckily, Spencer knows you better than anyone.

“There’s a park a few minutes’ walk from here with a small duck pond. Would you like some fresh air?”

You nodded frantically against his neck as you finally let go, allowing him to lead you out of the precinct, hand in hand, his thumb running softly over yours as you walked.

“I don’t deserve you.” You mumbled, leaning in closer to him as you carried on down the path.

“Nonsense,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “We deserve each other. Just remind me not to get on your bad side; I like having both of my arms functional.”

Bed Head -

A blaring alarm at 6am has to be up there with one of the most annoying things on the planet, and I work with Derek Morgan. You let out a groan, your arm floundering around to find the source of the wretched noise. Groaning in defeat of not being able to do it with your eyes closed, you cracked one open, locating your phone, and finding sweet relief in the snooze button. A very overexaggerated yawn left your lips as you attempted to stretch your arms over your head in an effort to wake up, only to find one immobilised in the grasp of your boyfriend.

You took advantage the rare opportunity of waking up before Mr Alarm Clock himself (also known as Dr Spencer Reid) by allowing yourself a few minutes to admire his form in the golden sliver of sunlight escaping the outside world through the gap in the curtains. It was only when your alarm went off again after the five-minute snooze timer did you try to wake him up.

“Spence, baby, time to wake up.” You whisper, attempting to gently coax him from his slumber. When that didn’t work, you laced your fingers through his mousy-brown curls, scratching lightly at his scalp, just how he likes. Only then did you receive a response in the form of a muffled groan into his pillow.

“C’mon, my love. We need to get ready for work.” You spoke softly, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead.

You chuckled lightly, wrapping your arms around his torso as your legs entwined. “Okay, my sleepy darling. But only five.”

“Mmm, five more minutes.” He mumbled, nestling his face into your hair as he pulls you closer than you thought possible.

Safe to say you took breakfast to go, just so you could bask in each other’s embraced for a little longer than five minutes.

Post-Sex Hair -

You climbed from his lap gently, unsure if your legs could hold yourself up as you panted heavily. Practically throwing yourself down beside Spencer on the bed, he took the opportunity to grab your hand, lacing your fingers with his as you laid your head on his chest. You were both still a little dreamlike in your post-orgasmic haze, and when Spencer began to press kiss after kiss into your hair, you didn’t hesitate to enjoy them.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered into your hair, punctuating his statement with a final kiss for good measure.

You looked up from your position, shifting slightly so you were face to face, and scrunched up your nose. “Really? Even with sweaty sex hair?”

He chuckled, and you followed with a giggle of your own as he leant over to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. “Especially with sweaty sex hair.” He whispered with a joking edge to his voice, his lips brushing with yours.

“Well, I’m pretty sure the team wouldn’t love my sweaty sex hair, so I better hop in the shower.” You smiled, kissing him quickly once more before climbing out of the bed and walking towards the bathroom, a sway to your hips.

As you reached the door, you turned to shoot a smirk over your shoulder at the blissed-out boy behind you. “Oh, are you not joining me?”

You swear you’d never seen the boy move as fast as when he clambered from the bed and chased you into the bathroom.

Straightened -

There was something about going undercover that equally excited you and creeped you out. Especially tonight, when you were having to go under in a club to catch a guy who was killing adulterous wives. You were the closest person in the team to his type, so it was a no-brainer to choose you, really. Didn’t mean you were happy with it, and it seemed that Spencer wasn’t either, if his clenched jaw was anything to go by.

Well, you were going to do it no matter what, so why not get yourself dressed up and try to bring some joy back to a less than ideal situation? That is why you were stood in the locker room of a precinct on the west coast in a red crushed velvet minidress with black heels, a fake wedding ring and straightened hair, and you couldn’t lie, you were totally feeling yourself.

“Woah, Y/N, you look…amazing.” You heard Spencer say as he entered the room.

You turned your head and smiled at him, feeling a little flustered as his eyes trailed over your form. You attempted to push your dress further down your thighs as he walked to you, his hands encircling your waist from behind and his head perched on your shoulder.

“It’s not too much is it?” You mumbled, looking down at yourself to do a final once over.

You felt his fingers under your chin, lifting your head to look him in the eyes through the mirror, ones filled with love and a hint of desire that set your skin aflame. He brushed your hair aside from your neck to trail kisses down the side of your throat, eliciting a breathy sigh from your lips.

“No, Y/N, you look badass.”

You giggled at the word that seemed so foreign coming from Spencer, but that was soon muffled when he spun you around by his hands on your hips and his lips hungrily met yours. Your lips moved against each other’s, his tongue coming to swipe at your bottom lip in a request for entrance. You granted it, and soon you felt your back collide with the cool metal of the lockers. You grabbed a fistful of his shirt as you explored his mouth with your tongue, relishing in the taste of him. You laced a hand up into his hair as you felt a hand that he had at your waist moving to your ass, gripping it roughly, causing you to moan into his mouth.

“Reid? Y/L/N? You two lovebirds ready?” You heard Morgan mock from the doorway and you both immediately jumped apart like some sort of invisible wall had shot up between you.

Looking around to see that Morgan wasn’t in your eyeline, given that the lockers luckily blocked you two from his view. But not from earshot, seeing as you could quite clearly hear his hearty chuckles as his footsteps got quieter and quieter.

You looked up at Spencer, his hair dishevelled and his tie askew, a look of both embarrassment and amusement at being caught making out like two horny teenagers adorned his face. A grin broke out on your lips, which he mirrored, and soon you were both laughing hysterically as you sorted yourselves out in the tiny little mirror on the wall, attempting to make it look like you weren’t a few seconds away from tearing each other’s clothes off, before re-joining the team in the conference room.

Messy Bun -

Ugh, cold and flu season. You swear you never make it through it unscathed. And it seems as if your battle was commencing today. You woke up feeling dreadful; runny nose, scratchy throat, constant sneezing, and red-rimmed eyes. Attractive.

There was no question in having to call in sick, so after throwing your hair up in the messiest of messy buns and locating the snuggest blanket, you dialled the number. You could practically hear the wince from Hotch when you started having a sneezing fit down the phone. Now you weren’t sure if you could look the man in the eye when you went back.

Once that torture was over and done with, you were feeling sorry for yourself and decided on a warm cup of tea and a dose of shitty daytime television. You were halfway through some over-enthusiastic talk show when you heard a knock at your door. Refusing to leave the blanket behind that you’d burrito’d yourself in, you shuffled over to the door.

You didn’t expect a very sympathetic looking Spencer on the other side of the door, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a welcomed sight.

“Hey.” You croaked out.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” You gave him a look that said it all, and he chuckled lightly. He lifted the bag he had in his hand. “I brought the best cure I could think of; chicken noodle soup.”

“I don’t want to get you sick, Spencer.” You whined, wanting nothing more than to curl up into his side but holding onto your selfless and rational thoughts by a mere thread.

You smiled at that, stepping aside to let him in. He passed you and went and got comfortable on your couch, grabbing a fork on the way. When you met him in the living room, he was ready and waiting for you with his arms open for you to snuggle into.

“Don’t worry about me. Now come on, your soup is getting cold.” He smiled, making grabby hands at you.

You made your way over, sinking into his embrace as he passed you the container and your fork. After a few mouthfuls and several minutes of listening to his steady breaths and thumps of his heart, you were feeling much better.

“Thank you.” You mumbled once you were finished and had placed your empty container on the coffee table in front of you, nuzzling further into Spencer’s chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Didn’t have to tell you twice.

[winterscaptain]

balancing out.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thank you all for your patience this week! i hope you enjoy this one - a few of you have been asking for mom’s route 66 moment. here it is! i’ve got some really fun graphics comin out this weekend, so keep an eye out!

words: 3k warnings: canon typical mentions of injury and death, language

summary: “accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.” ― marcus aurelius, meditations. au!january 2021

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

Haley’s sitting next to you when you snap to, sitting on a bench in a park. The same park, in fact, down the block from the apartment where you first lived with Aaron and Jack in 2012. 

This is the park where Jack learned to play soccer…

You have a feeling that something terrible has happened, that something isn’t right. 

“Don’t worry about that, right now,” Haley says, startling you a little. “You’re safe.” 

You look at her, finding her surprisingly aged in the time since you last saw her. “Haley? It really is you, isn’t it?”

She smiles at you. “Glad you can still recognize an angel when you see one.” There’s something behind her voice, the glints of her offbeat sense of humor you love so much. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snort. “You’re not an angel.” 

She shrugs with a wry smile. “Maybe not, but then again, maybe none of us are.” 

You take a moment to look around, finding the park exactly the same as you left it. Except, you note, you’re the only people there. The playground rests empty of children, curious dogs are absent from the grounds, couples lounging in the grass are nowhere to be found.

Why here? Why now?

All at once, the memory rushes over you. 

“Aaron,” you say, struggling for breath. You cough, and something wet crawls up your throat, making you cough again. Something dark lands in spatters across Aaron’s face and the collar of his shirt. You feel the compulsion to brush it away, but one of your arms feels leaden, trapped. 

He’s crying. And talking. 

“Hang on, baby. Hang on. I’m here.”

All you can say is his name, over and over, as you reach for him with the arm . There’s blood on your hands and part of you realizes you’re dying, probably. 

“What happened?” You hear yourself sputter. 

Aaron shushes you, brushing a shaky hand over your forehead. “It’s okay. You’re fine. You’re going to be okay. I love you. I’m here. You’re gonna be just fine.”

It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself rather than you. You don’t mind. 

Everything goes dark. 

“Haley…” You look over at her again and she grabs your arm, stemming your panic. 

She shushes you once, short. “You’re fine.” 

Tears pool in your eyes before falling down your cheeks. “I don’t want to die. I’m not ready to go. Aaron, the kids, they - ” 

“You’re not going to die,” she assures you, standing and holding her hand out to you. “You’re just spending some time with me for a little while. Is that okay?” 

Her small, concerned frown warms you, and you know she’s actually asking. There’s a kind of understanding that she’ll just go away and you’ll be left in the darkness if that’s what you want. 

It’s not. 

“Yeah,” you reply. “That’s okay.” 

“Good.” Her face brightens and you stand. She tucks your hand into the crook of her arm and the two of you begin to walk, the landscape transforming around you. 

It doesn't make a lot of sense. You seem to walk through the park, then the apartment where you lived when Isaac was a baby, then the new house in Woodbridge with the twins, then the bullpen, all the way down the block to a house you recognize as Aaron and Haley’s - the big house they bought when they moved to D.C. in ‘98. 

The house where she died. 

“I have a couple people who really want to see you,” she says, by way of explanation. “I figured it would be easiest to meet here.” 

You step up to the porch and into the house, removing your shoes out of habit. There’s no trace of the blood or broken glass from the Foyet altercation. Everything seems in place, right down to Jack’s army men neatly arranged on the living room coffee table. 

It even smells the same - the light, floral smell of Haley’s perfume and something you can only describe as Aaron winds through the house, making it feel more lived-in than any time you’d been inside it after the divorce. 

“Momma!” A little girl with dark hair streaks across the room and throws herself into your arms. 

You catch her and bring her close. She’s probably six years old, maybe a little younger. When she leans back to look at you, you’re met with Aaron’s eyes. 

The recognition is immediate and you grin at her. “Hi, baby girl.” 

She smiles back at you, a mirror image. “Auntie Haley told me you’d come to visit.” 

“Did she?” You look over at Haley, whose fondness for your daughter is open and obvious. 

It’s only fair - my fondness for her son knows no bounds. 

“Yep. Gramma’s here, too.” 

You look around, your baby girl tucking into your chest as best she can given her size. Evelyn steps in from the back porch, closes the sliding door behind her, a glass of wine in her hand just like it would be in life, and smiles at you. 

“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” she says, crossing the room to embrace you and press a kiss to your cheek. She and Haley look about the same age, maybe forty or forty-five. Her resemblance to Sean is more obvious in her youth, but Aaron’s still her own personal carbon copy. 

You relax into her arms, your daughter squished between your bodies. “Hi, Mom.” On the first inhale, the smell of her detergent washes over you and tears spring into your eyes again. “I miss you.” 

She laughs, leaning back to place one hand on your cheek and the other on your daughter’s shoulder. “I miss you, too. How are those girls? And my sweet boys?”

The thought of your family makes you smile and you attempt to push away the fear of leaving them…

Of leaving Aaron a widower again…

Stop. 

“They’re perfect.” 

Haley huffs from beside you. “Ev, can you please tell someone stubborn that dying isn’t an option here? At least, not right now?”

Evelyn smiles at you. “You’re not going to die, sweetheart. This is just a stopover point so you’re not alone. Aaron had one too, when he was in surgery a few years ago.” 

“He told me,” you say, feeling a little more confident. “He told me he talked to Haley.”

“Yeah and I reminded him it’s a good idea to pull his head out of his ass every once in a while.” 

You look over at her. “Thanks for that.” 

She snorts. “I thought he’d never ask you. It was the least I could do.” 

+++

Eventually, you end up on the back porch, sitting in the lawn chairs with the other Hotchner women. Time seems to move differently here, the golden light of the evening hours stretches far beyond what you’re used to, but it's nice. It’s not cold, not too warm, just comfortable. 

You hear the gate open and a familiar voice calls, “I thought I might find you here.” 

Standing, still keeping your little girl on your hip, you embrace Jenny with your free arm. 

Her smile is just as bright and warm as the first day you met her. Your daughter wiggles out of your grip and latches onto Jenny’s slacks. 

“Auntie Jenny, did you bring Aunt Shannon with you?” 

She shakes her head. “Not today, sweetie. Today is for your momma.” 

You take a seat on the arm of Haley’s chair and she snags her finger into your belt loop and says, “It’s almost time to go back.” 

You look back at her, a kind of forlorn feeling creeping up in your chest. “Can you come with me?” 

With a rueful little smile, she shakes her head. “No. But, I can show you something.” 

A screen sort of comes from nowhere, propped like a drive-in movie on the other side of the yard. Foyet’s there, manning the projector. You squint at him and he shoots you a salute and blows Haley a kiss. She catches it with a smile and a fond shake of her head.

By way of explanation, Haley says, “Things are a little different here. If they weren’t different here, they’d be different there.” She points at the screen and you redirect your attention. 

Time moves a little differently, but you learn that you’re watching your life unfold as if Haley hadn’t died, as if the most pivotal moment in your life with Aaron hadn’t happened at all.

You see years pass by on the screen - Foyet is eventually caught and killed (by Derek - a surprise). Haley and Jack come home. 

Aaron and Haley come to an understanding, and you make up the tripod in their odd little fitful family unit. Aaron moves back into the big house on the river - he’s never there anyways and he sleeps in the room that used to be his office when he is home. 

Emily actually dies. That one is another, rather more unpleasant, surprise. 

When you look at Haley, she tells you, “Where there is death, there will always be death, eventually. It balances out, one way or another.”

With Haley in the picture, Aaron isn’t as fearless in love as he learned to be with you, doesn’t have as much perspective. He’s riddled with self-doubt and addled with fears of disappointing her, of disappointing you.

You and Aaron dance around each other for years and years and years - it’s almost 2015 before he kisses you for the first time, almost another two years before he finally asks you out, another one before you get married, another one before you have your first child. 

Upon seeing him, you can tell he’s not Isaac. He’s a different boy, one that looks more like Aaron than you, who’s remarkably neurotypical, loud, and much scrappier than Isaac. 

Jack doesn’t call you ‘Mom’ and you’re not as close. 

Things are...wrong. 

Well, maybe not wrong, but they aren’t the same. Even with the added joy of having Haley in your lives after the fear and uncertainty, you’re acutely aware that this is the timeline that was warped in some way or another. Everything feels delayed or just off. 

You never have the twins or move into the Woodbridge house. Aaron doesn’t close the gap with Sean, who overdoses after a tumultuous battle with his addictions and demons. 

There’s a kind of smallness to that life that you don’t have in yours.

The images fade, leaving the blank screen, after what seems like an eternity spent experiencing an alternate reality that you might have wished for if you didn’t know any better. 

Haley tugs on your belt loop. “See? Couldn’t stay, can’t go back. The life you have is the best one that exists. And,” she adds with another little wry smile, “the only one you’ve got.” 

Jenny places her hand on your shoulder, your daughter still stuck to her leg like glue. “You’re not done yet.” 

“And,” Haley adds, “you have another surprise coming next year - around August.” 

At your squint, she continues with a little smile. 

“I’m not going to tell you, so you’ll have to stick around and find out.” She winks. “Thank me later.” 

When she stands, you follow Haley to the front porch. The rest follow behind you like a little band of ducklings. Even Foyet, who could be an unwelcome interloper, seems like a member of the family. Evelyn passes him a glass of iced tea when she settles in the doorway. 

It’s kind of funny, if you’re honest. 

“Aaron and Jack will be there when you wake up. Jessica has the little ones at home.” Haley holds your hands as she speaks, swinging them back and forth a little. “You’re…” She sighs, “really hurt. Like, really really hurt. You’re gonna be out of work for a little while, and your lung capacity will be pretty fucked...forever. You’ll be able to do everything, but you’ll need to take more breaks than you’re used to.” 

Your lower lip disappears into your mouth. “How’s Aaron?”

“Terrified.” 

+++

Aaron sits by your bedside holding your hand, watches the way your chest mechanically rises and falls with the ventilator. They intubated you right away to give your lung the space it needed to heal, but all he wanted was to hear your voice before they put you under, just one more time. 

It’s been a wretched three days. Your surgery seemed to stretch on forever, digging the bullet out of your chest, repairing the gunshot wound that shattered four ribs and perforated your left lung in six places. 

After surgery, you coded after your lung collapsed again due to a pulmonary embolism. That little incident sent you right back to surgery and Aaron’s blood pressure to the stratosphere. 

Since then, you’ve been stable, quiet, and, in the doctor’s words, “lucky to be alive.” 

He can still feel the blood you coughed up running over his fingers and landing on his face, the shallow heaving of your breath under his hands. 

Images of Haley and Kate and Emily flashed before his eyes as he tried to hold you together - horrible, horrible reminders. 

Would he lose you in the field, like Emily? 

Would he lose you in surgery, like Kate?

Would he be too late, like Haley? 

Selfishly, the thought of playing the part of a single parent to four young children scared the hell out of him. The twins were hardly two and a half, Isaac almost five. Jack…

He really hoped he wouldn’t have to hold Jack’s hand as he delivered another eulogy for another person he called ‘Mom.’

If he was a single parent again, he would be tasked with raising three more children who wouldn’t know their mother - wouldn’t remember you after some time. 

Just like Jack with Haley. 

He was terrified of becoming a shell of a man without you, leaving his children practically orphaned overnight. 

Sitting in the waiting room during your first surgery, he decided that he’d quit. He’d take whatever the bureau offered and quit for the sake of his children, for the sake of Jack and Isaac and Caroline and Sophia. He wouldn’t let them lose another parent to the field, to the relentless pursuit of evil. 

Now, beside you, he holds your hand and talks to you as much as he can, knowing all the while you can’t hear him. 

+++

“I love him, Haley.” 

She grins at you while Foyet rolls his eyes. “I know you do.” Pausing as if to think for a moment, she adds, “When you wake up, don’t panic. You’re intubated. It’s...” Her head wavers back and forth a little as she searches for words. “...Unnerving. And uncomfortable. But you’re tough.”  

She kisses your cheek, Evelyn and Jenny give you a hug, and Foyet kisses your hand. 

“Say hi to big man Aaron for me, will ya?” He asks. 

You snort and shake your head. “Gimme a break.”

He shrugs. “Worth a shot.” 

+++

Your eyes snap open and you see the ceiling before anything else. Remembering what Haley said, you try to ignore the deeply uncomfortable pressure in your throat, chest, and mouth as you squeeze Aaron’s hand. Jack’s asleep, his long legs curled up like a little spider in the little corner chair.

Aaron meets your eyes and immediately reaches for the call button, assuring you, “You’re alright. You’re intubated, honey. Don’t try to talk. Just a second, I promise.” 

The nurse arrives and takes care of your ventilator. You take it like a champ, mostly to avoid scaring Aaron any further. Your voice is raspy and worn when you speak. 

“Hey.” 

He takes a shaky breath. “You scared the hell out of me.” 

A little chuckle leaves you and you cough once. It hurts. “Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

“That easily,” he scoffs, reaching for a lidded cup of water with a straw. “Your left lung practically exploded. You think that’s easy?”

You take the cup of water, pulling small sips. It instantly soothes your throat and you latently realize you have a feeding tube winding its way up your nose and down your throat. 

That’s a problem for another time. 

“Easy enough. You were stabbed multiple times - I hardly think one-upmanship is useful here.” 

Your humor has the intended effect. His shoulders relax and he leans over, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Before you ask,” you tell him, “I feel like hell.”

“Yeah I bet.” There’s a little laugh in it. 

“I saw Haley, though. And our little girl. She’s almost six now.” 

Aaron perches on the edge of your bed, still holding your hand. “Tell me about her.” 

You do, as best you can remember. Things are disappearing from your memory, but you cling to the important bits. You tell him what you saw, how life would be different if Haley had lived, the way you two talked about him, the way his daughter fits seamlessly into the lives of those they’ve lost. 

“So she’s alright.” 

You nod. “She’s perfect. Haley’s taking excellent care of her, of course.” 

“Only fair,” he says. 

“My thoughts exactly.” 

+++

You’re in and out of sleep, but eventually, they remove the feeding tube and let you sit up to eat some bland pasta with some juice. It’s the best meal you’ve had in what feels like years. 

Jack sits on your good side, tucked under your arm and drinking all your cranberry juice and showing you the new games Dave got him on his Nintendo DS. The girls sit at your feet, playing with some blocks Aaron brought them. They’re attempting to stack them on your shins to no avail. 

Isaac’s sleeping against your chest. It hurts to breathe with him there, but you don’t want him anywhere else. 

It’s Aaron’s turn to sleep. He’s got untouched files on the little table beside the chair, just as he usually does. Maybe one day he’ll give up trying to pretend to do work with one of the team hospitalized. 

Haley’s right. This is the life you’re supposed to have. 

+++

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[lilkermit14]

Jay is from the show Red Widow and unfortunately he's not really known 😅 At first I wanted to ask for Jack but I had no idea of ​​the details for the story... Maybe he had to leave reader because of his job, but he loves her too much and decides to come back and find out that she is pregnant (a baby girl) I know, it's not original but i can't imagine anything else for this charming cowboy 🥺

Whole (Jack Daniels x Fem!reader)

Notes: Idk why I struggled so hard to write this fic but here she is in all her glory........yay. Not as smutty as per usual to prove I’m not a total whore but here ya go

Summary: after your life is threatened unbeknownst to you, whiskey takes it upon himself to protect you the only way he thinks he can––by leaving you. but what his cowboy brain doesn’t for see, is that he’s doing both of you more damage than good especially after a happy little accident. 

warnings: brief description of smut and aftercare (like the La Croix of smut but still no minors), ANGSTTTTTTT, rOUGH, unplanned pregnancy, a slap, and a happy ending

Jack should have known the first time he wasn’t meant to have this kind of happiness—the kind where one could always have someone to return home to at the end of the day. No, he couldn’t have it with his late wife and he couldn’t have it with you either.

The human trafficker had somehow gotten access to personal statesmen information, because he had found out about you. Had your name. Had shown him pictures of you. Had shown that men were waiting at your doorstep if Jack didn’t back down now.

Thankfully, they were able to stop the man before it came to any of that—but it broke something in Jack. He couldn’t have another woman he loves die like his wife. He didn’t know if he could handle it. You didn’t even know about Jack’s real job, all you knew was that he was the CEO of a distillery and you never asked questions about that. Maybe it was easier keeping it like that, as Jack realized the only way to keep you safe was to leave you.

He had picked a night, picked a place to head out to after it was all over, and planned out the note. He had made love to you one last time before leaving—slowly savoring the way your skin felt pressed against him and the way it felt to have your walls drag against him when he thrusted, and finally stilled deep inside you. He made sure to take care of you before he left, clean with all sore muscles rubbed out and well hydrated—comfortable as you could be. You fell asleep so easily it somehow made Jack more guilty for what he thought was the right thing. He stayed longer than he should have after he wrote the note and got dressed, bag packed by the door, just staring at you, attempting to memorize the sound of your soft noises as you slept and the way your naked body looked covered by the sheets and pale moonlight. It was the most beautiful scene he had ever seen and wanted it to be the clearest memory he had of you. Tears sprung in his eyes, thinking that this is the only thing he will ever have of love—memories. He kissed your forehead one last time before walking out of your life forever.

*****************************

Jack hasn’t felt alive since, the toll of leaving you behind eating at him more than he ever thought it could. He’s changed in a way and everyone knows it—they see the way he moves or speaks now and know something has changed. He just goes through the motions of living with no actual life in his eyes to prove he is alive. He throws himself into his work working through cases and bad guys more efficiently than ever, but it doesn’t distract him from losing you—not when he lies awake at night crying and missing you.

Everyone around him changes too—Tequila doesn’t tease him anymore and walks around him like they’re threading through a room full of broken glass. Ginger does more medical evaluations—ones that are less to do with physical health and more to do with mental health. Most of all—champ acts different, “son—“

Jack pauses from exiting the debriefing room after giving Champ a status report and picking up another case, “I’m wondering if you should take a few days off from wo—“

“No,” Jack says curt and without a single space for bargaining. Champ is stiff when Jack looks at him, “I know you're wallowing over that girl.”

“I did what I had to do and I’m going to continue doing it.” Jack reminds him, staying steadfast in his decision. Champ shakes his head, “and it’s tearing you apart—statesmen get threats like that all the time Whiskey and they don’t go deserting their relatives or loved ones—“

“Well they're not me,” Jack states his stare is cold as he looks down at Champagne, “I can’t lose another person like that again.”

“You’ve lost her by leaving her,” his words cut through him and he knows it’s the truth, but it’s not something stubborn ol Jack is willing to withstand. Jack turns to leave again, “I’ll be off on the case.”

*****************************

You can’t help but pick up one of the sandwiches from the various food carts before they go out. It’s too tempting after standing for hours on your feet with a six month old pregnancy belly on your front—one you’re rubbing as you enjoy the taste of the mozzarella, pesto, and tomato together. The father of your child disappeared before you could even tell him—fitting considering you never grew up with a father in your house. So it has just been you and your baby girl, and well your best friend and business partner that was walking towards you now, joking “are the sandwiches up to your standards?”

“I needed something to eat after four hours of standing and being pregnant Travis,” you contest, taking another big bite. He shrugs with some sort of understanding, looking over the trays of food with you and approving them before they go off. Travis randomly starts, “I don’t think we should try to have this client again.”

You turn, finishing your sandwich with an eyebrow raise, “why? Did someone from the company say something to you—“

“Not that—although I was worried when the CEO invited his childhood priest—” he notes sending off the last tray, “I get bad vibes from the company itself.”

You think about it for a moment agreeing that something was fishy about the way a family-owned soap company was able to afford such a lavish event—something was a little off. You nod, “maybe not—I don’t want to get too close to a company that's a front. I doubt they would want us back because they’ve fired every event planner they’ve had before and the CEO’s wife already complained that the flower garnishes weren’t the correct shade of maroon.”

“We just have to finish the job then and we’ll be scott free” Travis mutters checking his watch, “just a couple hours left—what could go wrong?”

As though you were in a badly made comedy, right as Travis says that you hear clatter and gunshots come from the main event area, “......I spoke too soon didn’t I?”

*********************

Vincent Marsulio had tried to make a run for it once he realized his plans to run a million dollar drug business had gone to shit—I mean a soap company as a front? Really? Jack had dodged gunfire, tequila and the new agent rum covering him—allowing him to use his lasso to drag Vincent into Statesmen custody.

The scene was under control now—with agents and Ginger’s crime scene investigators gathering follow up information and evidence. Jack was just there to make sure the scene stayed secure and that no witnesses ran off that were revealed to be involved. Scanning the crowds of those being interviewed is when he saw you.

He should have known you were here—he should have seen your touches in the flower displays, the food selections, the drapery, and the table cloths. You were a party planner, he should have made note of that. You’re the same as the images in his mind—the memories that flash through his mind whenever he gets a flicker of your perfume or hears a laugh that sounds like yours. The only thing that's changed about you is your stomach—there's a sizable baby bump there, and he mumbles to himself “no…”

It had been seven months—seven months since he left you. It had to be his. He left you pregnant. As though you heard the gears turning in his head you turn and make eye contact with him—freezing in your place. He has to talk to you now, but you make efforts to move away, running towards a stairwell to get away from him as he shouts your name.

************

Despite being seven months pregnant you make a good chase, ducking down the stairwell and moving as fast as your swollen ankles will carry you while he shouts for you behind you. You can’t see him right now, he left, he doesn’t deserve this. Your condition must somewhat get the best of you as you end up stumbling on a landing—slowing down enough for him to catch up. You knew it was futile after all he ran faster than you even when you weren’t pregnant.

He grabs your wrist before you can go any farther, pulling you towards his body—only for you to wack a big slap to the side of his face, “how dare you—you asshole.”

“You're pregnant?” He asks quick as hell, and you frown still jabbing hits at him, “Why else am I so fucking big dickhead.”

He pulls you closer in an effort to restrain you from hitting him and from running away at any point, “is it mine?”

You had been avoiding looking at his face the entire portion of the ordeal—not wanting to see the face of the man that abandoned you. But you end up looking anyway and feel the tears spring up in your eyes. Despite the fact he left you you still feel love for him in your heart. You can’t lie to him, “it is.”

“Sugar, I’m—“ he breathes out, struck in the moment by every error he’s made in the past few months knowing he should have stayed, “I’m so sorry, please let me explain why I did what I did.”

You don’t respond just letting him speak at his own will as he settles you two down to sit on the steps of the stair. Jack tells you about his job, his wife, and the scare he had that just accumulated to him feeling like he had to leave to keep you safe. You had known about his late wife but none of the details about the affair and understood just why he was so afraid—but he still acted like an idiot. Head in hands, “why did you keep everything hidden from me Jack, I mean you lied to me about your job––no wonder I was able to find you after I found out, I was stuck looking for Jack Daniels brewery CEO instead of Jack Daniels statesmen.”

You got him there, “I should have––everyone told me I should have told you.” Silence emanates between the two of you, “I know sorry doesn’t make up for all I did––I don’t know if I can ever make up for what I did, but give me a chance because I want to be there for you and the kid–I love you sweet pea.”

Tears spring from your eyes, “I love you too Jack, we’ll figure it out I promise.”

Jack pulls you into his arms whispering what sounds like a thousand thank you’s for you and the girl in your belly, “it’s a girl you know.”

“A girl…” Jack trails off with a smile gleaming on his face and some unspoken joy in his eyes, that shifts into something of deep regret, “I was almost like him I don’t ever wanna be like him”

“You won’t.” you state firm and jack pulls away to cup your face and wipe away the errant tears still streaming down your face, “can I kiss you darling?”

“Please,” and with that the lips you have missed meld on to yours. After months, both alone and apart, both you and Jack feel a sense of security that everything will be alright––that your little family is finally whole.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m sorry that its bad....

taglist:

@poenariuniverse @harleyamidala @yespolkadotkitty @storiesofthefandomlovers @babybelou @legally-a-bastard @computeringturtle @clydesducktape @sixties-loser @buckysalefty @april-14-blog @prettylittlegoldfish @softpedropascal

[incredifan34]

Incredibles Theory

Recently, I watched a video by Cartoon Conspiracy that theorized that Syndrome, was, in fact, a superhero - more specifically, the child of two supers. I highly reccommend you check it out.

More specifically, in the video, Cartoon Conspiracy theorized that Syndrome's parents must've been supers for the following reasons:

Mr. Incredible / Bob Parr seems to know Buddy Pine's mother well, if not both of his parents. As seen with the wedding scene where Helen and Bob get married, most of the attendees are, in fact, superheroes. This would suggest that Bob and Helen's majority of friends / acquaintances are also supers.

Buddy Pine, as a child, seems to be overly eager to become a superhero himself (and has access to advanced tech parts), idolizing Mr. Incredible, showing up at the scene of the crimes, inventing his own tech to give him "powers", and dubbing himself "IncrediBoy". For one, where exactly is Buddy getting all of the tech parts (as a child, no less) needed to make working rocket boots? And two, how exactly where, and when, to find Mr. Incredible multiple times, unless he also had a police scanner / some sort of device that notifies Supers when criminals are at large? (Or, perhaps more likely, he overheard his Super parents talk about where Mr. Incredible normally fights crime?) And why is Buddy the only "sidekick" we see or hear about? This could also potentially point to Buddy having one, or two, superhero parents, ones with access to government technology made for superheroes (i.e. Gazerbeam's eyepiece, gauntlets, etc.).

Buddy Pine seems to be obsessively fixated on "becoming a superhero", so much so that his entire childhood is spent revolving around becoming one, as well as his later adulthood. It seems strange that Buddy is the only "non-Super" featured in the film who wants to emulate a superhero in real life, whereas everyone else seems to be perfectly content with letting the established Supers (ones with powers) do the job of crime-fighting for them.

Forshadowing as related to Jack-Jack Parr, the child of two Supers, supposedly "not having any powers". In the film, one of the points that comes up is Helen Parr, a.k.a Elastigirl, worrying about (or at least noticing) that "Jack-Jack doesn't [seem to] have any powers". This is in spite of Jack-Jack being the child of two superheroes. So this tells us two things: one, that a superhero couple has had at least one child before; and two, that a "non-super" born to two supers has also happened before. Why else would Helen Parr / Elastigirl just seemingly accept so suddenly that Jack-Jack doesn't have any apparent abilities, even though he's still a toddler? ...unless, of course, there was a previous example that she knew of a "superhero couple's baby" turning out to be a "Muggle"...a child, perhaps, like Buddy Pine.

Syndrome's / Buddy Pine's later island base seems almost identical to the base of the Phantasmics, a team of superheroes mentioned in the extra of The Incredibles DVD. The Phantasmics were a super group part of the National Supers Agency, and focused on international threats. Their base, as such, is noted as a "Secret Mid-Ocean Location - Codename - New Atlantis".

Speaking of the Phantasmics, in the video noted by Cartoon Conspiracy, they were headed by team leader Everseer, whose superpowers included telepathy, clairvoyance, and "magni-vision"; Macroburst, a superhero with the ability to control air currents and create high-velocity winds; Plasmabolt, a female superhero whose powers involved shooting bolts of plasma, which was gathered from the insect-like antennae mounted on the head of her super suit; and Psychwave, whose powers included mental force wave generation, temporary mental paralysis, the ability to possess the bodies of others, psychic foresight, thought control, and telekinesis; her superhero uniform was notable for an atomic insignia. In the video montage of the Supers that Syndrome's Omnidroid kills in the film, the Phantasmics (Psycwave, Everseer, Macroburst) are some of the first superheroes to die by his hand.

Buddy Pine bears some physical resemblance to at least two potential Super parents. Cartoon Conspiracy theorized that Psycwave and Universal Man were the parents of Buddy Pine, because these two Supers appear first on his "kill list" (Project Kronos). However, personally, I think that Buddy Pine / Syndrome bears much more physical resemblance to the superhero Phylange, who had the ability to project sonic fields; and Apogee, a Super whose powers involved gravity control and levitation. Buddy Pine's facial / ear structure matches that of Phylange; his crooked teeth match Apogee's. Phylange and Apogee were both team members of the team "the Thrilling Three", along with...wait for it...none other than Gazerbeam. Likewise, Syndrome's Zero-point energy also involves what appears to be tech related to Apogee's gravity control / levitation ability.

Speaking of Gazerbeam, he seems to be, essentially, his presence seems to be the biggest piece of evidence in favor of this theory. According to The Incredibles DVD extras, Gazerbeam was originally a member of the Phantasmics, which would mean that he also worked with them off of their "secret island base" of "New Atlantis". (Sound familiar?) However, Gazerbeam's rivalry with team leader Everseer led to Gazerbeam's dismissal from the Phantasmics. After Dynaguy's death, Gazerbeam replaced him as leader of "the Thrilling Three", joining Phylange and Apogee in crime-fighting. In the film, Gazerbeam is also featured heavily somewhat, giving Mr. Incredible / Bob Parr the information on "Project Kronos" post-humously. However, Gazerbeam's previous involvement with the Phantasmics (and their "island base") seems too convenient to be merely a coincidence when it comes to his presence on Syndrome's island.

The "Thrilling Three"'s base seems based out of the same city from the intro. According to, again, the DVD extras, the Thrilling Three were based out of "the Trilling Three Towers...hours of operation effective by noon". (Again, why not start crime-fighting until noon, unlike the "around the clock" listed availability of other superheroes...unless one of the team had to take care of her child?) The Towers must've been based in the same city as Helen and Bob got married in, because Gazerbeam (a later Thrilling Three team member) also shows up at their wedding. Dynaguy, the current TT leader, also shows up to the wedding. However, the other two TT members, Apogee and Phylange, don't make an appearance. This could be due to the trouble their son (Buddy Pine) got into with Mr. Incredible only a short time before.

The only other "tech hero" seen in the film is Dynaguy, who, like Buddy Pine, had "rocket tech" to allow him to fly. Dynaguy, of course, used to be the leader of the "Thrilling Three", before his untimely death because his cape hit a snag on liftoff. Again, it seems too much to be a mere coincidence that Buddy Pine - who could be the child of two of Dynaguy's team members - apparently had the same, advanced "Super" tech Dynaguy had access to, albeit with Buddy reworking it into "rocket boots". Buddy even says to Mr. Incredible, "This is because I don't have powers, isn't it? Well, not every superhero has powers, y'know! You can be super without them! I invented these. I can fly! Can you fly?"

Buddy's / Syndrome's own dialogue as it relates to the Incredibles seems to indicate his own past. In the alternate opening on the deleted scenes, there's this really creepy moment after Syndrome hears baby Violet crying and then says to Bob, "You are breaking the law, Mr. Incredible. You know supers aren't supposed to breed," his eyes just slowly move in the direction of Violet's room. There's something very unsettling about that moment. Syndrome has Bob and Helen trapped with his freeze ray, and there's nothing they can do to stop Syndrome as he moves down the hall toward Violet. (Source) Likewise, Syndrome's decision to try and abduct Jack-Jack to "raise him as his own son" is disturbing in itself...almost like Syndrome has mental issues from his own abandonment / neglect as the child of a Super couple.

In addition to the last point, Syndrome's dialogue as he attempts to kidnap Jack-Jack is also very telling as to his own past:

Syndrome: "Shhhhhh.... the baby's sleeping. (chuckles evilly) You took away my future. I'm simply returning the favor. Oh, don't worry, I'll be a good mentor. Supportive, encouraging. Everything you weren't! And in time, who knows? He might make a good sidekick."

My theory as to what happened in Buddy's / Syndrome's backstory...

So, while Cartoon Conspiracy theorized that Buddy Pine is, in fact, a Super - having "super intelligence" - I am of the belief that Buddy, in reality, is not a Super. However, I agree on the point that he was born to two Super parents, just different ones from CC's theory: Phylange and Apogee.

Sometime before the flashback in the intro to The Incredibles, Phylange and Apogee had a son: Buddy Pine. However, being born to two superhero parents, especially during "the Glory Days", likely wasn't easy. When both of your parents' jobs involves dedicating themselves to a life of crime-fighting, where does that leave Buddy Pine?

As a result, growing up, Buddy's parents are frequently away on business. As such, he grows up looking up to, and idolizing, superheroes - and one in particular, Mr. Incredible. I think Buddy's obsession with Mr. Incredible started because, perhaps, he was neglected emotionally at home by his largely-absent parents. As such, Buddy decided to "latch onto" who he saw as a "perfect" father figure and role model - Mr. Incredible, who was an associate of his parents'.

As such, Buddy built up a "shrine" to Mr. Incredible in his house; "invented" his rocket boots; joined the Mr. Incredible Fan Club (or maybe even started it); and even tried to fight crime alongside Mr. Incredible as his sidekick ("ward"), "IncrediBoy". Having been emotionally neglected by his parents, he used this as a way to try and "become worthy" (in his eyes) of the attention and affection they never gave him. In his eyes, if he became a "Super", and "earned respect" as one, then his parents (as well as Mr. Incredible) might spend more time with / praise him.

Perhaps the case could've been that, because Buddy was born without any superpowers, he was more neglected by his parents, in his view, because "they expected / wanted a Super child". So, Buddy thought, if he could become a Super himself, then, perhaps, they might "love him more" then.

Indeed, TV Tropes says of a "Muggle born of mages":

He may be nice-if-pathetic or mean-spirited, but whatever the case, his bitterness and regret over not being a super is a major character trait.

If there's one thing that Buddy Pine / Syndrome seems to practically ooze, it's "bitterness and regret over not being a Super". He seems to always carry a chip on his shoulder because of it.

Buddy Pine / Syndrome particularly has three quotes related to the "absent parent narrative", particularly the "absent father" one:

"I'll give them heroics. I'll give them the most spectacular heroics that anyone has even SEEN!"

"See? Now you respect me, because I'm a threat. That's the way it works."

"That ship has sailed! All I wanted was to help you, I only wanted to help! And what did you say to me? (Flashback of Mr. Incredible: "Fly home, Buddy. I work alone.") It tore me apart, but I finally learned an important lesson: you can't count on anyone, especially your heroes!"

However, when Buddy Pine is rejected by Mr. Incredible, after the incident with Bomb Voyage, his anger and bitterness comes to a head. He decides that he "can't rely on anyone - not even his heroes", and, over time, becomes more and more hateful of his parents, and Supers in general. He sees them as people who deserve to be hurt - to be punished - and "just as they took away his future", he would "return the favor".

In time, Buddy Pine develops all sorts of tech, most likely taken from his parents' base. He likely goes to a normal university - probably a tech-related one - and is eventually hired by the government / National Supers Agency, possibly due to his parents' influence as (by-then-ex) Supers. He uses the government tech to create weapons of war and other technology, selling them to other countries for a huge sum on the black market.

All the while Buddy Pine works for the NSA, he gathers all of the intelligence he can on every Super, especially after the Supers go into hiding. Previously, the NSA required every superhero to register with them to fight crime legally, so naturally, they would have all of the Supers' information. Buddy Pine uses the government's task of "hiding" the Supers against them, and even his own parents.

However, despite the U.S.'s "Superhero Relocation Program", effectively ending the Supers, this isn't enough for Buddy. He begins plotting his revenge. Likewise, the Phantasmics are still operating internationally, not just in the U.S., off of their island base of "New Atlantis". Buddy, as part of the government / NSA, manages to get sent to "New Atlantis" as an NSA agent, claiming "he needs to do official government business".

So, Buddy scopes out the island, planning his method of attack. In the meantime, he finishes completion of the Omnidroid v.X1, and manages to lure the ex-superhero Universal Man to his death via it.

Not long after Universal Man's death, Buddy launches a surprise attack on the Phantasmics. (That, or he disguises it as an "NSA training session / meeting".) In the battle, Psycwave and Everseer are killed by the Omnidroid v.XI. Macroburst manages to take out the Omnidroid, only to be later killed by the Omnidroid v.X2. The last remaining team member, Plasmabolt, manages to escape the island, and is never seen / heard from again.

With the Phantasmics out of the way, Buddy takes over "New Atlantis", and makes it his base of operations as Syndrome. His next target - not surprisingly - is his own father, Phylange. Luring his father to the island, Buddy uses the Omnidroid v.X2 to kill him, obtaining the first part of his revenge.

After killing a few more Supers, Buddy moves on to his mother, Apogee, luring her to the island to kill her with the Omnidroid v.X4.

Meanwhile, former Phantasmics member Gazerbeam has been working as a lawyer. After being forced into hiding, Gazerbeam used his civilian identity to launch a campaign to get the ban on Supers repealed. Frozone commented that he "had trouble adjusting to civilian life," much like his best friend Mr. Incredible had. Also, Bob Parr (Mr. Incredible's civilian alter ego) had learned in a Metroville Tribune newspaper that Gazerbeam had gone missing. According to the newspaper article, he was last seen outside his apartment on Traction Avenue ten days prior to the date of the article. His past advocacy of Superhero rights—which had lead some citizens to believe that he had actually been a superhero—would have made him a likely target (especially to Operation Kronos, a plan set forth by super-villain Syndrome). (Source)

However, Gazerbeam had also been former team mates (and likely close friends) with Phylange and Apogee, Buddy's parents. After reading / hearing about Phylange's and Apogee's "disappearance", along with that of other supers, Gazerbeam does some extra research. He finds that Phylange, Apogee, and/or their son, Buddy, were last tracked to / seen on "New Atlantis", the Phantasmics' old base.

Thus, Gazerbeam, under the guise of being "recruited" for "Project Kronos", decides to do some undercover investigations. In time, he finds out the terrible truth - that Buddy Pine, his best friends' son, is now a meglomaniacal supervillain, and has been the one killing Supers - but that he's the next victim.

Likely being ambushed after finding out the truth, Gazerbeam has just enough time to swim to the underwater cave, and, using his abilities, carve the word "KRONOS" into the rock wall. By then, the Omnidroid catches and kills him, or he's already been mortally wounded.

And, from that point on, the events of The Incredibles happen as-is.

And, as a final kicker: the name "Kronos" itself is not only a reference to the 1957 movie [Kronos](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kronos_(film), but also to, in Greek Mythology, the leader and youngest of the first generation of Titans, the divine descendants of Uranus, the sky, and Gaia, the earth. He overthrew his father, Uranus, and ruled during the mythological Golden Age, until he was overthrown by his own son, Zeus, and imprisoned in Tartarus.

The period in which Kronos ruled was called the Golden Age, as the people of the time had no need for laws or rules; everyone did the right thing, and immorality was absent. Kronos learned that he was destined to be overcome by his own son, Zeus, just as he had overthrown his father, Uranus; thus, Kronos ate his own children, until his wife tricked him, and raised Zeus outside of his influence.

In the same vein, "Kronos" could be a reference by Buddy Pine himself to how he views his vengeance - with him as "Zeus", he used "Project Kronos" as a way to overthrow his father, Phylange (and his father figure, Mr. Incredible), "the most-well-known Supers of the Golden Age", even years after the Supers' retirement. And, just like how Zeus locked away all of the Titans (and Kronos) after their defeat to clear the way for him to rule as King of the Gods, Buddy / Syndrome kills so many Supers in order to clear the way for his "new world order".

After all...

Syndrome: [watching live news footage of the Omnidroid] "Huh? Huh? Oh, come on! You gotta admit, this is cool! Just like a movie: the robot will emerge dramatically, do some damage, throw some screaming people. And just when all hope is lost? Syndrome will save the day! I'll be a bigger hero than you ever were."

Mr. Incredible: "You mean you killed off real heroes so that you could pretend to be one?"

Syndrome: "Oh, I'm real. Real enough to defeat you! And I did it without your precious gifts, your oh-so-special powers. I'll give them heroics. I'll give them the most spectacular heroics anyone's ever seen! And when I'm old and I've had my fun, I'll sell my inventions so that everyone can be superheroes. Everyone can be super!"

Syndrome: "And when everyone's super ...[laughs]...no one will be."

[arduadastra]

Can I request something pretty please? You're quickly taking over my ranking of favourite fandom writers ok

So, my request is any of the boys you choose and their s/o dealing with a miscarriage. Totally get it if you don't want to do it since it's a pretty heavy subject, but as fluffy as all the pregnancy and dad fics are, it is hardly ever like that in reality and I just love to torture myself like that.

Thank you so much baby! 💜

It's a rainy English Sunday and I decided I wanted pain today so I wrote both Whiskey and Frankie, why do I do this?? I don’t know. 

You have been so patient waiting for this and thank you for saying I’m becoming one of your favourites!

This is definitely a heavy subject so I advise anyone who has had experience or known someone who has gone through this to read with caution or take care of yourself and read something else of mine.

BIG TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of miscarriage and depression.

Frankie

Frankie and you had two children before the miscarriage happened. You both knew it could happen, it was something that affected so many families but you just didn’t think it would touch the lives of yours.

You weren’t more than a month along when it happened. There was no warning just the sudden pain and then,

“Frankie? Something’s wrong."

As you lay there sobbing in bed after the doctor's appointment cradled by Frankie, you felt like a failure. You couldn’t grasp what you did wrong and why this had even happened.

Was this a punishment? 

Grief and embarrassment overtook you and it was loud. You spent days wailing into Frankie’s chest or your shared bed and cradling your children close when it became particularly unbearable.

But grief affects Frankie differently. He mourns silently. He keeps it in, pushing at his chest and expanding his ribs until he gasps at the phantom pain. It felt like a vice around his ribcage but he never showed it on his face. Not in front of you.

He manages to hold it together in the first week. He holds you and murmurs sweet assurances into your hair and rubs your back as you whimper but even Frankie can’t hold it in for long.

One day, his daughter takes his hand while they’re eating breakfast together and says, “It’s okay daddy, it wasn’t your fault.” and his heart shatters.

He excuses himself and collapses in the bathroom, heaving into the toilet bowl as he shakes through the onslaught of emotion.

You find him there once your daughter tells you “Daddy didn’t look very well,” and hunchs behind him, cradling him tightly as he cries.

“It’s okay Frankie, let it out baby that's it.”

“fu-fuck I’m sorry I’m so sor-”

“Shhh don’t you dare. You’ve been so good for me, let me take care of you now.”

After that, it becomes easier. When your daughter is asleep you talk to one another, about how you’re feeling and how you’re coping and it helps ease the pain if only slightly.

You talk to your daughter about it too, explain what had happened and why she couldn’t meet the baby anymore but how she would always be a big sister regardless. Frankie and you make a small memorial to the baby, it's simple. The first ultrasound in a frame but it means you can all speak to it when you need to. That helps too.

You finally decide to start trying again when you’re both ready and while it's fucking terrifying, you both go to counselling together to help. Going past the month mark again was particularly hard but you had each other and once that hurdle passes you both let yourself feel excited again.

Whiskey

He’s lost his son once before but to now lose his daughter? Right at the same week mark too?

Whiskey is inconsolable.

He becomes reckless, too careless about what happens to him because he thinks how could anything be worse than this? To lose one child pushed him over into the arms of the enemy but two?

Statesman has to push him out the door and ban him from active duty until he can function again because he’s such a liability. He pushes back, even tries to fight his way out but he surrenders when they threaten termination.

He drinks and even starts smoking. He doesn’t handle it well, in fact, he doesn’t handle it at all. He just exists. It’s like he doesn’t know who he is anymore.

At least he has you this time.

Don’t get me wrong, it hits you hard and you yourself had to take a break from work but at the beginning, you have to look after Jack far more than yourself. He was on a razor-thin line and anytime you left the house you prayed he would be there when you got back.

After a while though, he notices the toll it takes on you. He notices you barely eating, too stressed about how he’s doing and how scared you are to fall asleep. He goes back to statesman but not to work, to request counselling and while it was the toughest decision he’s ever made, the look on your face when he showed you the form made it worth it.

Slowly but surely he pulls himself together and is quick to apologise to you. He knows he left you, maybe not physically, but emotionally to deal with your grief alone and he vows to be better.

“I promise sugar, never again. I'm so sorry, I'll never stop being sorry but I’m getting better. For you."

Eventually, you both heal. Whiskey through his therapist and you with him and while it takes a while to become pregnant again, you’ve never seen Jack Daniels cry as hard as he does when he holds your newborn infant in his arms for the first time.

----

Send me something! I write for Din, Whiskey, Javi, Oberyn, Max P, Frankie and Ezra.

[bau-baby]

the ultimate loss. 2/?

aaron hotchner x gn!reader

Summary: While you and Aaron are grieving the loss of Haley, an untimely realization comes up on your part after a night of consolation. Will anything come of it?

word count: 3k

warnings: grief, loss

A/N: Holy cannoli I am so sorry for how long this second installment took me!! Also the ending seems kind of rushed and it’s not the greatest, sorry! Now, onward with the story! 

read part one here

It has only been a few months since Haley’s service, and you have been at a loss. Ever since the time you and Aaron had together on that patio, something changed. Something that you couldn’t really put a finger on. Neither of you addressed it for fear of messing with things you weren’t ready to face. So you both did what you do best: ignore it.

You’ve filled your time with hours on the job, Aaron has been doing the same. You both merely dance around one another, not allowing your colleagues to pinpoint or figure out what happened. And if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t either. Hell, you weren’t sure Aaron knew what was going on, and he is one of the best profilers you have the pleasure of knowing. 

It’s another late night, early morning at Quantico. You’re burning the candle at both ends, losing sleep by the day. You blame it wholly on losing a friend, and sure that was the big, main reason, but you also know it’s a ploy to throw whatever it is that’s happening with you and Aaron out the window for a time.

After-action reports fill your time as the coffee keeps getting brewed and your pen isn’t running out of ink anytime soon. And you always love to think that this is your time away from Aaron, when in reality he’s right up the stairs, hunched over his desk just as you are. You saved your glances for when your hand got cramped or you needed a refill on coffee. What you don’t see was the glances he’d send your way while you were engrossed in the paperwork. 

You normally end up staying late at the office since you have a tendency to take some of the extra files from Aaron as well as the team so they could get home quicker.

You finish up a majority of your reports just before midnight, opting to take the unfinished ones home. You gather your finished files, making the short walk up to Aaron’s office before knocking. You hear him faintly say “It’s open,” and open the door.

“Hey Aaron, just wanted to drop these files off before heading home for the night. If you-” Your words die in your throat as you finally look at Aaron much closer. His eye bags were getting worse, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. “Are the nightmares still happening, Aaron?”

He knows there’s no use in lying, especially to you. He nods as he presses his pointer and middle finger to his temple, trying to alleviate the dull headache that hasn’t left him in so long. It was one of the only constant things in his life, outside of Jack and you.  With the headaches and the nightmares saddled on top of the grief, he hasn’t had true peace in months.

You tentatively take a seat at his desk and wait him out. You know that once he feels like talking, he will. He takes his time, twiddling his pen in between his thumb and pointer finger.

“I miss her. I left her at home with Jack almost every day, I was never there for his appointments or for his big milestones. I forced her to be a single mom when I could have easily just been there. I-” He stops, and you can see his eyes are brimmed with tears. You swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“Aaron, she loved you-” He scoffs, “-No, she really loved you. It tore her to pieces when she left, she just reached a point where she had to put Jack’s needs first. She still cared for you. The call I got the day you were admitted into the hospital told me enough,” You look down at your hands, trying to find the words, “You’re a great dad, Aaron. You do your best and right now that’s all anyone can ask for.” 

Aaron lets out a huff of breath and leans back in his chair. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to lessen the pulsing headache still fully present. You only hope that your words made a difference, and you start to get up to leave.

“Wait. Please don’t go. I- I can’t stand being alone here anymore,” The admission makes your heart swell while simultaneously hurting for the broken man, and you settle back into your seat. Maybe finishing up the rest of your reports in the company of a friend wouldn’t be so bad after all.

-----

The late nights you and Aaron were pulling to keep each other company quickly transitioned to going home early to see Jack, still keeping each other’s grief at bay. Didn’t help that Jack was the sweetest kid on the planet, and one you definitely couldn’t say no to.

There were days where Aaron would just break down away from the watchful eyes of his son. He wanted to remain strong and not worry the young boy, but he knew Jack was hurting too, just as you were. Even if he was vulnerable with you at times, he still kept some walls up and held some feelings to his chest.

And Aaron would never tell you, but some days it was hard to even be in that apartment. The wall has been long since repaired, the bloodstains lifted from the carpet. But that didn’t remove the nightmares that haunted him every time he came home.

He could never forget the acrid smell of Foyet’s breath as he continuously taunted him, the knife driving into his abdomen. He couldn’t forget the fleeting memories that he surrounded himself with, a hopeful yet useless distraction as he was bleeding out on his apartment floor.

He couldn’t forget Foyet’s smile, his laugh that haunted Aaron’s deepest nightmares. 

Foyet’s words would come to him in flashes, always coming back to remind him of everything he lost.

“Do you know how much you have to study the human body to stab yourself repeatedly and not die? I don’t want to brag but I’m somewhat of an expert.”

The humor Foyet found in what he was saying was not ever lost on Aaron.

He always felt the ghost of the knife, cold metal gracing his abdomen that was slowly losing heat due to the blood blossoming around his still body.

“Do you wanna see my scars?”

The image of Foyet’s mangled abdomen was stamped into his brain, a fateful image that spoiled his sleep every night.

“Yours are gonna look just the same.”

And that they did. Aaron hated the scars that riddled his chest, the raised, gnarled skin always a reminder of his failure. He not only failed Haley, but his son that he swore to protect and give a good life. He ripped the life away from both of them. Haley would never see what Jack would become, and Jack would never remember the woman who gave her life to protect him.

No matter how much he trusted you, there was still that wall that held him back from telling you all of this. His rational brain told him that you’d help him work through it, but his trauma-riddled brain told him that he’d end up overwhelming you, even though you both lost the same person, she just had different emotional ties to both of you.

That call that you listened in on while racing to Fairfax was imprinted in your brain. You’d continually tried to tell yourself that you couldn’t change anything that happened, that you couldn’t save Haley. You couldn’t give Jack his mom back, and you couldn’t bring back Aaron’s closest friend. 

You knew it wasn’t right to blame yourself. You knew that Foyet had fooled all of you. That didn’t stop you from taking the blame, forcing yourself to relive the worst moment in your career, just to subject yourself to something you felt you could have prevented.

Jack wouldn’t have any memories of his own mother. You would just plant four years’ worth of stories as he grew up, telling him tales of how strong his mother was, and how she was the best thing that happened to his father.

Maybe these similar trains of thought are what led you to be knocking on Aaron’s door late at night. And maybe, that’s what led him to answer.

“Y/N? It’s so late, what’re you doing here?” The opened door revealed a distraught yet cozy Aaron, floppy hair and eye bags in all.

“Can I, uh, can I come in?” You remain composed, trying to regulate your breathing before you possibly could fly off the handle.

“Yeah, of course. Are you alright?” 

Now isn’t that the question of the hour, Aaron Hotchner? You aren’t really sure what you feel, so instead of answering, you walk over to his couch and sit. 

Aaron trails in behind you, two cups of coffee in his hand. You accept the cup, the ceramic mug already bringing life back into your hands. Aaron sits on the other side of the couch assuming the same position you are: a blank, grief-filled stare aimed at the table in front of you. The only sign of either of you being cognizant is your periodic sniffles. You don’t even realize you’re crying.

“I just miss her, you know?” The sentence comes through a wavered tone, and you hiccup through the tears. 

Aaron’s in a similar state, his red-rimmed eyes giving way to a tear-filled, “I know. I miss her too,”

A watery laugh leaves you, “Y’know, one time when I visited Haley, told me about how you two used to be. Before Jack, before…”

Before the divorce. Before she died.

“-just, before. She even gave me a little insight on your stint as Pirate #4 in Pirates of the Penzance,” A watery smile makes its way onto your face, and you hear Aaron huff out a sad laugh, shaking his head as he does so.

“I swore her to secrecy on that. She liked you, honestly. She loved how you were with Jack, and I can’t say that I don’t either. You being here, for us, is something we’ll always be grateful for. Thank you,” The sentence makes your heart swell, as more tears fall down your face. They’re full of grief, sadness, and a love you don’t catch onto right away, but when you do, you force that back down to whatever depths it came from.

You hear the feet padding across the floor before you see him.

“Y/N? Why are you crying?” Jack asks as he clambers up next to you and into your arms.

“Hey, bud, what’re you doing up? Your dad and I were just talking about your mom, and how much we miss her,” You say, rocking the boy as you hold him.

“I miss my mom too. Do you think we could talk to her?” He asks. You could hear how tired he is, and you look at Aaron.

Go ahead, his look says, and you stand up with Jack still in your arms. You pick up the candle and lighter on the way.

You lay Jack back in his bed, grabbing the picture of Haley off his dresser. You light the candle and hand it to him.

“Hi, momma. Y/N is here, and I miss you. I love you,” You continue to listen to the boy, but you can feel the tears pressing at the back of your eyes again. You can’t imagine what this four-year-old boy is going through, trying to understand why his mom isn’t coming home anymore.

You feel a certain pair of eyes on you from the doorway of Jack’s room, and you see Aaron watching you and Jack. He’s got this soft, sullen smile on his face as he hears Jack recount his days since he’s last talked to Haley. Soon enough, the four-year-old runs out of steam and says goodbye, blowing out the candle. You reach over, tucking the covers up to his chin, and tell him goodnight.

You walk out to see Aaron sitting on the couch again, his elbows resting on his knees, hands covering his face. You sit with him until the early morning light washes over the DC skyline, sunlight peeking into the windows. You both laugh, cry, and sit in silence as you talk about whatever, but the topic keeps coming back to Haley.

“Well, if I want to make it to the building on time, I better go back to my apartment and change,�� You say as you get up to grab your shoes that have long since been forgotten, as well as your keys and such. “Oh, I didn’t even notice the time. See you at work,” He says, getting up off the couch too.

“Bye, Aaron. See you at work,” You give him a soft smile, and make your exit.

Aaron doesn’t make light of this, but seeing you leave after the night he spent commiserating with you, made him miss it more than he thought he would. The freshness of it all, the connection you shared with mutual grief, was something he never thought he’d get out of his job.

-----

When you step into the bullpen, you’re the first one there for once. Fresh clothes and a rejuvenated heart puts a small pep in your step, even on no sleep.  After the night of vulnerability you shared with Aaron, you felt refreshed, if only a little tired. 

For the sake of making sure you actually stay awake, you make two cups of coffee. Made one cup just how you like it, leaving the other one black. You set your cup down at your desk, climbing the stairs up to Aaron’s dark office. You turn on his desk lamp, setting the coffee down. You knew he wasn’t too far behind you when coming to the office, it was only a matter of time before he walked out of the elevator. 

When Aaron finally makes it to the bullpen, he sees you already cutting into the reports he left on everyone’s desks the night before. He practically floats to his office, his lack of sleep starting to catch up to him. When he opens the door, he sees the coffee mug at his desk, a sticky note attached to it. Very familiar handwriting fills the note. 

Thought we could both use some coffee after our late night. 

You know where I am if you need anything, old man. 

Sincerely, 

A very concerned friend :)

Aaron just shakes his head at the note, a smile he’s not used to filling his face. He looks through the window out into the bullpen to find you with an equally facetious smile on your face. 

That’s when it all comes crumbling down for you. The realization hits you as you turn back to your work, and you have to slow your breathing so as to not worry anyone else making their way to their desks. 

Fuck. 

You’re in love with your boss. 

You’re in love with Aaron Hotchner. 

You could not have worse timing, you realize. He just lost his wife, you just lost a friend. Neither of you should be open to dating. He isn’t open to dating, and you’d be damned if you were too.

You were never known for your timeliness, but this is a whole other level of bad.

 What are you supposed to do? There’s no handbook, nothing to tell you what you’re supposed to fall in love with your divorced boss who just lost his ex-wife. And there shouldn’t be, you’re being careless. 

It’s normal for people in grief to come together, and after a loss people make strides to fill that gap. That’s all you're doing. You don’t actually feel this way about him. 

That’s what your profiling tells you, but you don’t try to reason with it. No amount of reasoning can fix this. You’re screwed, and you know it.

That’s why you make a vow to yourself- right there in the bullpen. 

You are not going to let this get too far too fast, and you are not going to scare this man away. He is your boss first, friend second, and lover will never make that list if you keep up this fast train of realizations and possible confessions.

You get saved from your rabbit hole as you hear Reid and Morgan walk into the bullpen, talking about whatever those two can talk about at 8 AM. You just shake your head at their antics.

Those two really are like brothers.

Slowly, the rest of the team trickles in, and you’re expected for a day of paperwork when JJ flashes a file at you. Seems like you won’t your day of reprieve, but if you’re honest with yourself, you’re glad.

On top of the Aaron Revelations™, It’s been really hard these past few weeks without Haley. You usually went over to see Jack and her often, talking and laughing over some glasses of wine. Now, you just... don’t have that.

But, all that aside, you have a case.

So you put the pieces of yourself back together, compose yourself, and take a breath.

You can do this.

-----

You can’t do this.

You did fine on the case, and you know that. You remained composed, and kept your head on straight. That doesn’t change your realization, nor does it settle your feelings. Professionalism is at the forefront of your mind as you settle into your seat on the jet. Aaron sits next to you like always, and you school your expression for most of the flight, but that didn’t stop your brain from going faster than light.

You lean your head against the window, and hope against hope that everything- every feeling, every thought- would just leave you. They didn’t, but you welcome the sleep that comes like an unknown force.

When you wake, you smell Aaron’s cologne. You’re groggy, and it takes you a minute to realize that his suit jacket rests across your upper body. 

“You looked cold, just thought I’d help,” Aaron says, not looking up from his file.

That man never stops working.

“Thanks, Hotch,” You say, sleep still laced through your words. You get lost in the moment, the familiarity of it all sinking into your bones. You smile blissfully, sleep consuming your conscious again

You just miss the small smile Aaron gives you after your eyes close, sleep taking your body again.

[quillquiver]

a damn good place to start

DeanCas Coda to 15x15, Dean POV, subtextual references to the Empty deal

“…And I know,” Cas is saying, “that things have been a little strained between the two of you, so…” He trails off, looking down at the truck’s keys as he fiddles with them. “I thought it best I go on my own.” He punctuates the end of his little speech with a shrug, surreptitiously looking up at the entrance like it’ll get him outside any faster.

Dean forces a smile to his face, and a nod, and raises the bottle of whiskey to his mouth.

“Dean—”

“Nah,” Dean says, waving him off. “You were just gonna leave, weren’t you? Without telling me? You prob’ly woulda called tomorrow and dropped the bomb and then that’s it, right? I see you when I see you—unless I don’t, ‘cause y’know.” Dean takes another swig. “Death.”

Cas watches him warily.

“I mean, it’s not like you’ve spent every damn moment leaving me lately. First trying to find Amara, now this…”

“That’s not fair.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “Life ain’t fair. Hey, you ever think I might wanna come with you to save the kid?”

“You’re still angry at him—”

“So?” Dean demands. “He’s my kid, too. And you’re—and what, you think it’s just cool that you just take the choice away? That you make the decision? That you throw yourself on the sword every damn time an opportunity rolls around? You need to be here—”

“You’re the one who celebrated our child’s birthday without me, practically pushed me out the door to find Amara, and insisted Jack and I work a completely separate case!”

“Because you do stupid things, Cas! You’re safer here.”

“Well, I wasn’t here when you had that woman over, was I?” Cas rounds. “Mrs. Butters? It seemed you were all doing exceedingly well without me—”

“What the hell are you talking about—”

“Christmas!” Cas explodes. “New years and Thanksgiving a-and whatever other holidays humans have come up with these days to honour family and togetherness! Your complaints are noted, Dean, but as much as you needed me in Purgatory, my presence was clearly not required to celebrate family—”

“That’s fucking bullshit—”

“—At the end of the day, Jack is my son and my responsibility, and I will not stand by—”

“THEN GO!”

Cas freezes.

“…Fucking go, then,” Dean says, swallowing thickly. “You don’t think you’re a part of this family? Fine. I dunno how else to prove it to you. But just know that you left this time. Okay? You left. Not me. And I didn’t push you away.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Oh, and just for the record: Mrs. Butters was forced labour for the Old Men—she showed up out of the blue, and she had real fucked up ideas about family. She didn’t trust us. She didn’t give us space. She wasn’t—anything.”

Cas’s eyes fill with tears and Dean forces himself to watch. To look. Because the last time they talked like this, Castiel walked out the door and didn’t come back, and Dean doesn’t want to miss a second of him, this time. He wants to remember the furrow of his brow and the way he clutches at his keys and how he shuffles in place.

And Dean realizes, suddenly and emphatically, that he can either watch him walk away again, or…

Or.

He takes a deep breath. Steels himself. Tries to remember that this is what you do for people you care about: you help. “Do you have a lead?”

“No, but—”

“Then just…” It’s fucked up, how scary reaching out his hand is; he’s killed more nightmarish shit than any normal person could shake a stick at, but holding out his hand for Cas to take feels like willingly throwing himself from an airplane without knowing his damn parachute works. “Stay tonight,” he says, praying his voice doesn’t shake. “We’ll see if we can get you a lead, and you’re out of here at first light, alright?”

Cas stares.

“I get wanting to save the kid. I do. But you’re no good to anyone dead, and you got nothing to go on. Just—let me help you.”

More staring.

“Cas,” Dean says, verging on begging with the way he wriggles his fingers. Come on come on come on.

“…Okay,” Cas says. He sounds more quietly suspicious than anything else, but all Dean hears is yes, as nimble fingers skate over his palm and grasp his forearm. A warrior’s pact. “First light.”

“First light,” Dean agrees. He carefully steps back towards the library, half-scared that if he turns around Cas’ll just make for the exit. Cas’s hand slips downdown until they’re holding hands.

Dean’s heart leaps and butterflies zing in his belly, and he tries to remember to be grateful of what he has, instead of upset by everything he doesn’t.

***

They cut it close, but Cas has a whisper of a ghost of something potentially useful to go on by the time Dean is walking him to the shitty old truck. He wants to sleep for a year, but even that isn’t as important as this; as Cas throwing arms around Dean’s shoulders and squeezing, murmuring his thanks, itching to get on the road. Dean holds him for just a moment longer. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft with a lack of inhibitions only bone-deep exhaustion can bring. “You’re not replaceable, okay? You gotta come back.”

Cas’s breath hitches. He nods. And Dean’s too tired to stop himself from petting a hand through his soft, dark hair, and too weak to keep himself from smiling after. “Knock ‘em dead, huh?”

When Cas pulls away, his blue eyes are bright with tears. His mouth twists into something agonized, moving like he’s trying to speak but mangling all the words before they get out. “I—Dean, I—”

And, somehow, this part isn’t scary at all.

It’s nothing for Dean to lean in and kiss him, the thing soft and almost absurd in its simplicity. In its sweetness. It’s probably the gentlest kiss Dean has ever given another person, ‘cause—well, Cas shoulders the weight of the world, and this isn’t something else for him to carry. This is something for them to share, even as he clutches at Dean’s robe, even as he cries harder. Even as he pushes forward, Dean keeps him gentle. Soothes him with a hand in his hair and another thumbing at his jaw until they’re kissing in earnest once, twice, three times; again and again and again until Dean loses count.

When Cas pulls away, he wells up again, and Dean shakes his head. He thinks he should be more worried about this—Cas crying is something he’s only ever seen twice before, and it’s never been like this. But the alarm bells are overshadowed by everything else: God, Amara, Jack… if Cas wants to cry, he’s damn well earned it.

He puts his own hand to the one Dean has pressed against his stubbled cheek, squeezing his eyes shut. “Dean, I—”

Dean hushes him. Presses fingertips to Cas’s lips. “Later, okay? When you get back.”

Cas’s face twists into something painful even as he nods, tears spilling once again onto his cheeks as Dean wipes the wet tracks away. He looks beyond agony, like something’s tearing him up from the inside out, and it’s all Dean can do to assuage his fears by kissing him again, saying, “Hey, I know, okay?” And then, “…Me too.”

Cas’s fingers dig into Dean’s biceps. “I wish we had more time.”

“We do.” Cas is clutching at his hands, now, touching him, always touching, as Dean throws caution to the damn wind and presses a kiss to their tangled fingers. “You’re coming back,” he murmurs. “We’re gonna go on dumb dates and you’re gonna have to sit through my Star Wars marathons and I’m gonna make you watch tentacle porn with me. You’re gonna hate it.”

Cas barks out a laugh, sniffling.

“Seriously,” Dean grins. “You’re gonna regret ever letting me kiss you.”

When Cas leans in for the first time, he’s a little clumsy; catching the corner of Dean’s mouth in a kiss so earnest and sweet Dean doesn’t know what to do with himself. When he pulls away, he looks at Dean with intent. “Nothing could ever make me regret that,” he says lowly, seriously. “Nothing.”

It takes another while for Cas to get actually get into the truck—a lot of kissing and promising dumb shit like they’re the leads in a harlequin romance, only separated by the cruel whims of the Universe until they’re reunited for their happily ever after. It’s stupid, but as Dean watches Cas’s rickety old truck drive away, he thinks… maybe it isn’t. Maybe he’s fucking owed that; a life with Cas and Jack and Sam, all of them under the same roof—no one suffering or lying or worried for their lives.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and Dean grins when he sees a heart emoji. Pressing the ‘call’ icon, he holds the thing up to his ear wearing the dumbest grin to ever grace his own stupid face.

Cas picks up on the first ring. “I thought you were supposed to be asleep.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to text and drive.”

“I pulled over.”

Dean beams at his slippers, phone clutched to his ear, blush heating his cheeks. Fine. Okay; maybe they don’t get all the bells and whistles of a harlequin happy ending. But this, right here?

It’s a damn good place to start.