#evidently that’s not new to at LEAST one of them.

[keeryhours]

wildflower chapter nine

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

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Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

You have mediation with Eddie, then get some big news afterwards.

Warnings:

Custody arguments, court, pregnancy

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N:

I’m sorry this chapter took forever to get out! Hoping to be faster with the next one 🙏🏻

“Ms. Henderson,” the mediator steepled his hands over his chest as he sat back in his leather chair. “You are not willing to agree to 50/50 custody, correct?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair. Your eyes darted to Eddie sitting across from you, hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. “No,” you answered.

He looked at Eddie, who adjusted his suit cuffs as he gave you a look. He went to speak, but his lawyer spoke for him. “My client is not willing to take less.”

“Neither of you are willing to budge at all?” The mediator asked, like why are you even here?

Why were you here? That was Eddie’s stupid fault. Just looking at him pissed you off. You’d been hoping he would at least come to his senses by the time mediation came around, but unfortunately that did not happen.

You and Eddie looked at one another. You both shook your heads, set in your decisions. The mediator held his hands up- “Well, if we can’t come to an agreement here, the next step would be court intervention.”

You shook your head, bringing your hand up to cover your eyes as tears began to well. This could not be happening. Eddie’s lawyer began packing up, and you could feel your ex’s eyes on you.

Eddie wanted to say something, to reach out and touch you and comfort you, but his lawyer was pushing him from the room and, at the end of the day, he was the reason for your stress and pain, anyway. As usual, he thought to himself.

He hated himself for this. Sure he wanted the time with his son, but he was putting you through hell. He hadn’t even realized until he’d seen you today, but it was evident it was having an effect on you. You looked sick.

You felt sick. You had finally made that doctor’s appointment your mom and Steve had been hounding you about, which is where you’d be heading next. You straightened your blouse and skirt and stood, trying to compose yourself before walking out of the room.

Eddie caught your attention in the hall as you left. He could see your eyes bloodshot from crying, the dark circles around them. He felt like shit. But he also felt like this was his right - his son - and he didn’t want to back down. But goddamn, he never liked seeing you hurt.

“This is so stupid, you know that?” You hissed at him in the hallway as you reached him. “You have the band. You travel. You go on tour for months at a time. And you want 50/50?”

“He can stay with you when I’m on tour, okay?” Eddie said, trying to get you to see his side. “Or with Wayne some nights. He can even come visit me when he’s older. I just want to have as much time with my son as I can when I’m home.”

You understood where he was coming from, but you couldn’t have Asher taken from you half the time. You couldn’t stand the thought. “It’s just too much, Ed. I don’t mind some visitation, but 50/50 - it’s just too much. You can’t take him from me half the time.”

Eddie let out a short, humorless laugh. “I am not trying to take him from you! Jesus, that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“But you are,” you said, tears once again starting to fall. “If you do this, you are.”

Before Eddie could say anything else you turned and left, heels clicking as you walked out of the courthouse. You were meeting Steve outside to take you to your appointment, and you knew he’d want to hear how the mediation has gone.

It had been pointless, just as you suspected.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Steve asked as he pulled up outside the doctor's office. You eyed the door, dreading going inside.

“No, it’s okay.” You began unbuckling your seatbelt, grabbing your bag from the floor. “Just take Ash and go play, I should be done in an hour.”

Steve nodded, but his expression was etched with concern. “Okay. We’ll be back then. Just…I’m here for you, you know that?”

“I know.” You smiled at him gently, but your body was buzzing with anxiety. Steve had had a point about your lack of a period. It still hadn’t come. You were very late, and you never were.

Well. Once.

You climbed out of the car with your bag, giving Steve one last smile. You opened the back door and leaned in to give Asher a kiss on the cheek. “Bye, buddy. Be good for Steve. I love you.”

“Love you!” He said back, reaching for you as you pulled away.

You carefully shut the door as you moved back, waving one last time as they pulled off. You took a deep breath, then turned and walked into the office.

Steve drove down the road to the nearby park. He unbuckled Asher from his seat and let him down, the toddler running to the playground equipment as fast as his tiny legs would carry him. Steve chased after him, running out of breath a lot faster than he used to.

Asher climbed and played on the slides, Steve pushed him on the swing, and they played a game of catch with the big rubber ball you brought from home.

When they got hungry, Steve bought a couple snacks from the vending machine. Asher pointed to the candy bar as it fell, laughing hard.

“What, you like the vending machine?” Steve laughed. He put in another dollar and punched in the number for a bag of chips. Asher watched with rapt attention as the snack was dispensed and fell down into the bottom. He squealed with delight, watching as Steve grabbed the bag.

They ate lunch together on the grass, enjoying the cool weather. It was nearly Halloween, and there was a chill in the air. Steve wondered what you had planned for the holiday, since you hadn’t brought it up with everything else going on.

“Alright, big man,” Steve said once they were done eating, “Let’s run out all your energy before we go pick up Mommy.”

Steve chased him around, the little boy laughing his head off as Steve pretended to be unable to catch him. As he ran back to the main part of the playground, he tripped over the step, falling forward onto his face on the mulch. He immediately started crying and Steve panicked, rushing to his side.

He lifted him up, examining his face for injuries. He had a big scrape on his left cheek, but otherwise looked fine. He was wailing, and it broke Steve’s heart.

“Hey, Ash, it’s okay,” Steve cooed softly, picking him up as he headed back for the car. “You’re okay, buddy. Just a little scrape. You’re such a big boy.”

He sat Asher up in the passenger seat as he reached into the glove compartment for the first aid kit you insisted he keep. Now, he was grateful for your helicopter parenting. He sprayed some of the disinfectant on Asher’s cheek, which made him cry more and made Steve feel like shit. He then covered it with a Thomas band aid, which Asher loved.

He got Ash back in his car seat before getting back in the front. It had been about an hour, so it was time to pick you up. His mind raced as he drove, wondering what it would mean if you were pregnant. It could be his - he could be a dad. A real dad. But it also could be Eddie’s. As much as he hated it, he remembered that night you spent with Eddie when he got to town. Yeah there was some time between instances, but it was close enough it would be hard to tell.

As much as he had tried to help you avoid this - besides the accidentally cumming inside, that was on him - he was kind of excited by the idea of you carrying his child. He knew you would look so beautiful, glowing, just like you were when you were pregnant with Asher. But if it was his baby…he doesn’t think there’s a version of you that could be any more beautiful than that.

But it wasn’t ideal. He didn’t want to have to spend 8-9 months wondering if the child belonged to him or Eddie. He knew he’d get attached to the possibility. And if he did that, only for the baby to be born and be Eddie’s - it would break his heart.

Steve’s mind was still reeling when he pulled up outside the office again. You were leaning against the entrance, jacket pulled tight. As you got closer to the car, Steve could see that it looked like you had been crying.

“What did they say?” Steve asked as soon as you were in the car. He couldn’t wait another second. He needed to know.

You looked into the backseat. Asher had fallen asleep in his car seat, and he looked angelic like that. His little cherub face, chubby cheeks and pouty lips. You loved him more than anything.

Finally, you turned back to Steve. You let out a big breath. “You were right.”

Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest. “I was right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I…I’m pregnant.”

Steve let out a breathless chuckle at the words. He couldn’t believe it. You really were pregnant. You were really pregnant and it might be his. “Do you know…who…”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears falling, and Steve felt terrible for asking the question. “No. I don’t know.”

It was silent for a minute. Finally Steve spoke up - “Do they know when we’ll be able to know?”

You sniffled. “They said we might know more when we do the ultrasound and see exactly how many weeks I am. But since the…instances were only two-ish weeks apart, we might not be able to tell until they’re born and we can do a DNA test.”

Steve took in the news. He didn’t like it. He wanted this baby to be his, and he wanted to know now. “Do you feel like you know who’s it is?”

“No, Steve. I have no fucking idea. It could be either of yours.” You covered your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is all a disaster.”

Steve began driving back to your house, the ride tense and awkward. He wanted to say something. He wanted to be happy. He’d always wanted to be a dad. He had considered himself one with Asher, but Eddie coming back into your lives only showed how easily that could be taken away.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said finally. “I’m here for you no matter what. I love you and that baby no matter what.”

His words did make you feel a little bit better. You knew they were true. But what if this baby was Eddie’s? Clearly he’d want to be involved. This would only make things more complicated.

Steve parked outside of your apartment building. “Want me to come in with you?”

You smiled softly at him. “You don’t have to. I’m just going to lay Asher down and probably take a nap myself. A lot to process today.”

Steve nodded in understanding. “Well, call me if you need me.”

As you laid in your bed, your mind raced with thoughts of this baby and the potential fathers. If it was Steve’s, things might be easier. He would be happy. He would be a great father, wouldn’t treat Asher any differently than his own child. Maybe you could even try a relationship.

But if it was Eddie’s? What would that mean? Surely he would try to fight you for this child, too. You couldn’t stand the thought of having this baby and immediately having to hand them over half the time.

You were actually terrified.

The next day as you were feeding Asher breakfast, the phone rang. You left him in his high chair to go grab the phone from the wall.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hey. It’s me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, an anxious habit. “Hi, Eddie. What do you want?”

“I…I was just wondering if I could take Asher tomorrow. I want to bring him to the studio and let him meet the guys.”

You thought for a moment. You could be petty and say no, but then you really would be what he was accusing you of. “Okay. That’s fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Eddie.” You felt like rolling your eyes. “Just let me know when you’re picking him up.”

“Around 10 in the morning.”

“Okay.” You played with the phone cord, wondering if you should just go ahead and tell him about the pregnancy. “Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

A pause. Might as well just say it. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Finally, “Is…is it mine?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you could feel the tears coming on. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.”

“…No.”

Eddie’s mind was spinning now. He could be having another child. A chance to do it right from the beginning this time. But what if it wasn’t his? What if it was Steve’s? The thought made him sick to his stomach.

“When will we know?”

“Maybe at the ultrasound. Maybe not until it’s born.” You let out a long sigh. “This is such a mess, Ed.”

Eddie felt bad for you. But he was also stressing, wanting the baby to be his but terrified it wasn’t. Also a little scared of the idea of having two kids, but he would rather that than you have a baby with Steve.

“I know,” he said. “I’m not gonna lie to you, it is a mess. But you’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

You nodded, sniffling as you wiped the tears away. “I know. Either way, this baby has a dad who loves them.”

“That is true,” Eddie said. “I just hope it’s mine.”

You laughed a little. “Yeah, both of you do. Someone’s getting their heart broken one way or the other.”

You genuinely felt bad. And you felt like a huge idiot for having unprotected sex with two different guys so close together. Now you had to explain this to your mom.

Surely that could only go well.

As you ended the call and went back to help Ash with his breakfast, you thought about how his life was going to change. A new little brother or sister. It was hard for you to imagine your baby boy as a big brother. You didn’t even know how you were going to explain this to him. How would he understand? Would he adjust okay? Or would he hate having to share your attention?

That was your main fear, how Asher would take this. He was the most important thing in the world to you, and you wanted him to be happy. You knew he would get used to it, but you already felt so guilty.

This was going to change everything.

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[thatoneautisticshark]

Hii

Idk if you already wrote something to it but your poky!tf141 with subby Simon got me thinking.

Simon is obviously subby, Kyke is kind of a subby switch, Jonny a switch (at least in my hc). And John is a dom obv.

But what if John needs this kind of relief yk? Having an empty head and glassy vision. What will the boys do? And how will the boys do it?

oooh yessss! That's cuteeee. Okay soooo

It's not something price likes admitting, trying to ask someone else to take the reins doesn't come easy. So they ended up with almost a code phrase. Of brownie points.

It started because if someone dimmed price when he needed it, price would, subconsciously, treat them a little nicer. You know more little gifts, and more jobs they liked. So they of course the boys began joking that having him sub for you gave you brownie points.

Except then it turned into and actual phrase they used. If price, albeit rare as it was, felt the want to sub, he'd simply text the group asking if anyone wanted brownie points and usually have one if not two of them in his room within ten minutes.

Johnny was the usual Dom but Kyle helped a lot. Simon only dimmed him a very few times, but was incredibly sweet, even tho his domming usually didn't involve sex.

So there's the idea, lemme story it real quick.

John leaned back against the couch in his room with a groan. He just needed a relaxer, all this paper work was doing his head in, and he could feel the urge to dip into that sweet little headspace.

And so he pulled his phone out, shooting a text to the chat with his boys, simple and too the point.

"Brownie points?"

In a minute, all three men were in his room, Kyle and Johnny heading over to him, and Ghost curling up on the bed, evidently not interested in the sex at the moment but wanting to be around them... and probably help with aftercare.

John had learnt quickly that simon adored giving aftercare. And he was good at it too. Nothing brought John more calm and down from his high then curling up against those great big tits.

Kyles hand landed on his face, gently rubbing his cheeks. "You need a little break yeah? Just need your boys, and going all subby."

John nodded mutely as Johnny's hands found there way to his hair. "Fuck Bonnie, such a good boy aren't you?" He cooed, slipping Johns shirt off and chucking it aside.

He then took full advantage of the new expanse of skin, kissing and licking a few small bits, as the man beneath him softly moans, head lolling in Kyle's arms.

Kyle gave a soft chucking, scratching the others scalp with on hand as the other made it's way to undo the belt. "Aw such a pretty boy~"

John was already way out of it by the time kyle grabbed his dick, already in that nice floaty headspace, feeling warm and happy. Softly whining at the contact with his dick.

When Johnny picked him up, he squeaked slightly, already too deep to care about the noise, his legs automatically wrapping round the others waist as he was lifted.

He could see the silent communication between his sergeants, about what they would do, but couldn't be bothered to work it out, he trusted them.

He got placed on the couch, on this front, cheek resting on Kyle's dark plush thigh, the mans hands already making their way to thread in his hair. "You think you are up to taking dick love?"

Kyle knew he wasn't nearly as experienced as any of them at it, so simply gave the choice and would take whatever John was willing to give.

The captain nodded blearily, softly nosing at the length, tongue darting out at the tip, eliciting a wonderful hiss from above him.

He had truthfully forgotten that Johnny was there, at least until he felt a warm tongue slide in his arse. He couldn't help the whine that escaped him, burying his flushed face in the junction of Kyle's hip and thigh.

Johnny was eating arse like a starving man, hands gripping Johns hips so hard there'd be bruises, and John could barely focus on Kyle's dick, but continued licking at it, earning hushed praises that made his head swim.

A yelpy moan escapes him as the tongue actually presses in. Johnny immediately pauses, hands rubbing his captains back. "Okay?"

John nods "Yeah... i.. I'm okay.."

Kyle's hand found its way back into his hair, as John canted his hips against the couch. It wasn't long before he was coming undone with a punched out whine.

It was only when Kyle pulled him upright, fingers wiping his cheeks, with a worried expression he realises he was crying.

A warm large hand landed on his back, Simon.

He barely registered being picked up, and placed on the bed, between Simons thighs, as hand massaged his shoulders, but he relaxed into it none the less.

Sorry it took a minute, trying to work out how to make this go was struggle!

[alinathinkstoomuch]

Filthier Flat-Pack Thoughts

18+ MDNI pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: your boss rejects you the first time but what happens when he's the one in charge? (part 2 of Filthy Flat-Pack Thoughts, but can be read as a standalone) warnings: baso porn w/o plot, hotch has a filthy mouth, reader and hotch both have a thing for mirrors... p in v sex, fingering, idk man i got carried away, enjoy xx (not proof read, dont come for me) word count: 5.6k

You had taken the coward’s way out when Monday came. But really, what else were you supposed to do after throwing yourself at your boss and getting let down?

So, instead of facing the consequences of your actions – or worse, facing him – you sent Hotch a text claiming you weren’t feeling well and asked if you could use your PTO for the day.

He didn’t respond. Not directly, at least. But just before the usual morning briefing, Garcia had texted you.

Feel better soon, sunshine!!!

Accompanied by enough emojis to make your head spin. Which meant he must have told them. Which meant that it was fine. And yet, the thought of him seeing your message, reading it, and choosing not to reply left a pit in your stomach that you weren’t ready to unpack.

You just needed one more day.

One more day to shake off the mortification, to stop replaying every humiliating second of Friday night in your head, to convince yourself that come Tuesday, you would walk into work and pretend none of it ever happened.

You didn’t want the day to go to waste so you tried to be productive, throwing yourself into the thing that would keep your hands and mind occupied - finally unpacking.

And you had mostly succeeded.

Most of your boxes were empty, your things finally finding a place in your new home, and after an embarrassing amount of time, you had even managed to put together your bedside table. But despite the distraction, despite the minor victory of assembling furniture without Hotch’s help, the second you sat down, exhaustion settling deep into your bones, it was still there.

That awful, gnawing awareness that sooner or later you were going to have to face him.

You decided that a hot shower might help wash away the lingering shame clinging to your skin. You turned the water up almost too hot, as you stood under the shower head, hands pressed against the cool tiles.

It was fine.

You just needed to stop overthinking it. Hotch wasn’t cruel. He had let you down gently. He had done the right thing. So why did your stomach still twist at the memory of it?

By the time you stepped out, your body felt warm, relaxed - your mind, less so. You pulled on one of your softer, more delicate chemises – a small indulgence in comfort you desperate needed. Then, with a sigh, you settled onto the couch, grabbing your phone and tapping through your contacts.

Garcia picked up on the second ring.

“Ah, my fallen soldier! How are we holding up?”

You groaned, shifting on the couch, tucking your legs beneath you. “I’m fine, Pen. Just taking a day to recover.”

“As you should, my dear. Self-care is critical after a weekend of… whatever happened that has you hiding away.”

You rolled your eyes, stretching out against the cushions. “Moving, Penelope. Moving has be hiding away. It is truly an exhausting process.”

Garcia hummed, evidently not convinced by your little white lie. “Well, boss man seems exhausted too. Or just very tense and broody. I can’t tell anymore, his scowls are all starting to blend together. Did he maybe pull a muscle helping you with your furniture or something?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Penelope -” you started, only to be cut off by a knock at your door.

You froze.

“Okay, who have you sent to my door this time?” you muttered, pushing yourself up from the sofa.

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m not the mastermind behind all surprise visitors.”

You didn’t believe her for a second.

Still, you pulled on your robe, tugging it over your chemise as you made your way to the door. The fabric felt softer than usual, almost fragile, like it wasn’t quite enough of a barrier between you and what was waiting on the other side.

Balancing your phone between your ear and shoulder, you tied a loose knot at your waist, fingers fidgeting with the belt as Garcia sighed dramatically on the other end.

“Well? Who is it? Spill.”

Your hand hesitated over the lock, a second of hesitation turning into two, three, before you finally turned the knob and pulled the door open.

Your stomach plummeted.

Because there he was.

Aaron Hotchner.

Standing on your doorstep – again. Looking every bit like the man you had spent the last two days trying to avoid, trying to forget, trying not to replay in your head on a never-ending loop.

“Let me call you back, Garcia,” you murmured absentmindedly, already pulling the phone away from your ear, hanging up before she could even think to respond.

Because right now, the last thing you needed was an audience.

You barely registered the sound of the line disconnecting, too focused on the man standing in front of you. Hotch didn’t speak right away, didn’t explain why he was here, didn’t offer you anything to ease the knot forming in your stomach.

He just watched you, which was almost worse.

You had been bracing yourself for tomorrow, telling yourself that by then, the weight of everything would have settled just enough for you to fake your way through the awkwardness, to act like Friday night had never happened.

But here he was. Now. And the fragile plan you’d built to protect yourself had just gone up in flames.

“Can we sit?”

His voice was softer than you expected. Softer than you were ready for.

You pressed your lips together, shifting on your feet, your fingers tightening around the knot of your robe, grounding yourself in the feel of the fabric, something real to hold onto.

A moment passed before you finally stepped aside, nodding slightly.

"Yeah."

Your lips pressed together as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, your fingers tightening around the knot of your robe.

He moved toward the couch, and you should have followed.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you lingered near the doorway, arms crossing over your chest, putting space between you. An invisible barrier, as if it could protect you from whatever was about to come next Hotch noticed, of course he did. His gaze flicked over you, reading every tiny shift in your posture, every hesitation, every instinct to put distance between you.

And still, he didn’t push. Not until he settled on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Sit, angel."

It was the way he said it – so soft, so steady – that you almost weren’t sure you’d heard him right. You sighed, resigned to the fact that there was no avoiding this conversation and lowered yourself onto the couch, leaving enough space between you.

A brief pause stretched between you. He was studying you, assessing you, trying to read you. And you suddenly felt so exposed despite the layers of fabric now separating you from him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone feeling dangerously close to concern.

You let out a small, dry laugh, shaking your head. “You came all this way to ask me that?”

“Did you take today off because of what happened Friday?” he countered your question with another, leaning forward.

You expected the question, but hearing it out loud – acknowledging it – made you ache all over again. You dropped your gaze, fingers toying with the edge of your robe, avoiding his eyes like that somehow could make this easier. “I just… needed a day.”

Hotch nodded like he understood, like he had already known the answer before you even said it. His expression softened, and when he spoke again, it was even gentler than before.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” you said quickly, too quickly.

Hotch didn’t look convinced, your name falling from his lips.

“I mean it,” you continued, making yourself sound certain. Trying to convince yourself as much as him. “You were kind, Hotch. You let me down in the nicest way possible. I appreciate that.”

“But –”

“I just needed today to clear my head,” you cut him off. “To remind myself that you were right.”

His brows furrowed. “Right?”

You let out a quiet, humourless laugh, dropping your eyes to your lap again. "That Friday night wasn't... real," you murmured, more to yourself than him. "It was stress and exhaustion and maybe a little too much wine. I let it get the best of me. It was a mistake."

The silence that followed was too long. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your robe, waiting for him to agree, to tell you that yes, it was a mistake, that it shouldn’t have happened, that you were right.

“Is that what you think?”

You looked up, brows pinching in confusion. “I mean…” You faltered, searching his face but it gave nothing away. “It was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

Hotch let out a breath, his fingers pressing into his thigh. “It wouldn’t have been right,” he said finally.

Maybe that should have been enough of an answer, maybe you should have left it alone. But you didn’t. Because something about the way he said it, the way his voice dipped slightly, made your stomach tighten, made the words slip out before you could stop them.

“That’s not the same as saying you didn’t want it.”

The moment they left your lips, you wished you could take them back.

His jaw clenched, his muscle ticking once.

And just as you started to convince yourself you had imagined this whole exchange, just as you prepared to backpedal, to fill the silence with some half-hearted attempt at smoothing things over, the most beautifully damning words falling from this mouth -

“I did want it.”

The air left your lungs in a sharp, breathless rush and you felt the room tilt.

“Then…why –”

“Because you deserved better than that.”

His words were firm, absolute, wrapped in the same conviction he carried into every case, every impossible decision.

“Hotch –”

“You’d been drinking,” he continued. “You’d had a long week and I know how quickly having too many things lined up at once overwhelms you.”

That sentence alone was enough to unravel you because he really did know you. He knew how your mind worked, knew how pressure built inside you until it spilled over.

“And I would have spent the entire next day wondering if I’d just taken advantage of you.”

Your throat tightened at the quiet honesty in his words, at the careful way he measured them, as if he had thought about this. As if it had sat with him just as much as it had with you.

And fuck, you didn't know what to do with that.

“You wouldn’t have. I didn’t need to be drunk to know that I want –” you hesitated, “–wanted you.”

He looked up at you, like he was weighing every single word you’d just spoken, turning them over in his mind like pebbles, making sure he heard you right.

“And what do you want now?” he asked lowly.

He was giving you the choice. No leading words. No hidden meaning. Just a simple, open-ended question.

Your stomach twisted, nerves and something warmer curling in your chest, in your belly, in the space between your ribs.

"You," you admitted, barely above a breath. "I still want you."

He nodded slowly. “Then take me to your bedroom.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d even heard him right, but the look on his face told you that you had. A sharp pulse of awareness ran through you, so strong it made your fingers clench into the fabric of your robe. You weren't sure you'd even be stable on your feet after hearing those words from his mouth, but you were sure as hell going to try.

Before you could move, he stood first. Your eyes followed the movement, unable to look away as he shrugged off his jacket, the rustle of fabric filling the space between you. Then came the cufflinks – carefully removed, set aside-before he rolled up his sleeves, revealing the strong lines of his forearms, the flex of muscle, the way his veins shifted beneath his skin.

And then, he reached for you. His hand open, waiting. Your gaze flickered up to his, searching, but all you found was patience and certainty.

“Only if you’re sure.”

Your fingers tightened around his.

You were sure. So damn sure.

You rose to your feet, and the moment you did, his other hand moved to undo the knot of your robe. His fingers worked it loose, the tie slipping free with ease, his breath coming just a fraction heavier as the fabric parted, revealing the delicate, pale pink lace beneath.

His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as his eyes dragged over you, taking you in inch by inch, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to memorize every detail.

And then he nodded toward the hallway. “After you.”

You turned, leading him down the hall, toward the first door on the right.

The soft glow from your bedside lamp spilled into the room, casting warm shadows against the walls. You silently thanked your past self for leaving it on –it was just enough light to see him, to see this, without feeling too exposed.

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside, moving toward the end of the bed. You didn't speak, didn't need to. You just waited, for his next instructions, for his next move.

Hotch's eyes swept over the room, taking everything in. It was still bare, not yet lived in, not yet filled with you –a work in progress, much like the two of you.

But then his gaze snagged on something. The full length mirror that rested against the wall, directly opposite your bed. You saw the moment he noticed it—the slight shift in his stance, the way his lips twitched, like he was already picturing something.

And then he moved.

Came to stand behind you, his hands finding your shoulders, warm and sure, guiding you just slightly until you were perfectly centered in front of it.

“That’s a very pretty mirror.”

Your eyes tracked every movement through the reflection, mouth parting, but for once you had no words. Then his lips brushed against your hair, barely there, but the heat of it lingered, seeping into your skin, into your bones, branding itself in a way you knew you wouldn’t be able to shake.

“Did you put it there so you could watch while you touched yourself?”

A slow, molten heat curled through you, pooling deep in your belly, spreading down between your thighs. Your legs tensed on instinct, pressing together as his fingers traced over the bare skin of your arms, feather-light, teasing, making you ache.

“Hm, sweet angel?”

You nodded meekly, biting down on your lip to supress the moan threatening to escape – one he had earned with nothing more than words.

“Did you do it after I left?”

Your sharp inhale gave you away, your body betraying you before you could even think of forming a response. Your back arched into him, fingers twitching as he intertwined them with his own, lips grazing the slope of your shoulder.

The mirror didn’t lie. You looked ruined already and he had barely touched you.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Use that pretty mouth before I find something else to do with it.”

That didn’t sound like the worst idea in the world.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed. “Aaron, please.”

A slow, satisfied hum rumbled against your back as his hands finally moved higher, fingers ghosting over your nipples.

“Did you start from here?”

You felt dizzy. So dizzy that if you weren’t leaning into him, if he wasn’t holding you up, you were sure you would’ve collapsed. His right hand drifted lower, tracing the outside of your thigh while his left gripped you tighter, his palm kneading into your flesh.

“Or did you start with your thighs?”

You could feel his smirk against you skin, could see it in his reflection – the way his dark eyes met yours in the mirror, the way his lips curled at the edges as his fingers edged higher, inching toward the heat between your legs.

The fabric of your slip bunched up in his fist, silk riding up your thighs, baring you to him, exposing your lace panties.

Hotch exhaled slowly, watching the way the delicate material clung to your body.

“Show me, pretty girl.” His fingers flexed against your thigh, his grip firmer now. “I want to see what I missed out on.”

You looked at him through the mirror, eyes wide, lips parted in a soft pout because he couldn’t possibly be asking you to do this. Could he?

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Your thighs instinctively pressed together again, only to be met with his hand keeping them apart. A breathless sound escaped you, your body betraying you yet again, and his smirk deepened.

You knew what he wanted. And so, with shaky fingers, you moved your hand. His grip loosened slightly, giving you just enough space for your fingers to brush over the lace at the apex of your thighs.

“Atta girl.” His lips skimmed the curve of your jaw. “Show me. Show me how you thought of me.”

Your lashes fluttered, breath catching as your fingers dipped beneath the lace. Maybe it was a good thing it was your own touch and not his, because if he felt how wet you were, if he had proof of just how much you wanted him, it would only feed into his smugness.

And you weren’t sure you could survive that.

Hotch hummed in satisfaction, his right hand trailing up, covering yours, guiding it, controlling it as you started rubbing slow circles over your clit. His touch wasn’t hurried. Wasn’t forceful. It was intentional, like he wanted you to feel every second of this – feel what it was like to have his hand over yours, dictating the rhythm, deciding exactly how much pleasure you were allowed to take.

“Did you say my name?” he asked, voice rough. “Did you pretend it was me?”

Your lips parted, a desperate, needy noise slipping past them, your body trembling as he watched.

“Look at yourself.”

You forced your heavy eyes open, meeting your own reflection and you barely recognised yourself. Your body was trembling against his, your slip bunched at your waist, panties pushed aside, thighs twitching as you fought for air.

“What do you see, angel?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers faltering as his words wrapped around you, sinking deep into your stomach.

“I see a pretty girl who falls apart the second I tell her to.”

Your entire body shook. A fresh whimper broke free, your knees threatening to give out as his left hand tightened at your waist, keeping you upright, keeping you his.

“Please, Aaron –” Your voice was wrecked, desperate. “I don’t think I can keep going.”

His exhale was slow, like he was savouring the sound of you breaking. “Oh, sweetheart. Do you want me to take over?”

You nodded feverishly, too fast, your entire body screaming for relief. “P-please. I need you to.”

His grip on your wrist loosened enough for you to pull your hand away as he replaced it with his own. And then – God help you – his fingers moved.

A slow, deliberate drag through your slick folds, teasing, testing, until he found exactly what he was looking for. His touch was immediate and so much better than your own. A broken moan slipped past your lips, your head falling back onto his shoulder as your thighs quivered, struggling to hold yourself up.

“That’s it,” he whispered, voice rich with satisfaction, like he had known this would happen. “So much better when I do it for you, isn’t it?”

Your only response was a chocked sob, your hands grasping at his forearm, nails digging in, pleading.

You felt him smile against your skin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

His pace quickened, precise and devastating, and you pressed into him – your body instinctively seeking more, needing all of him. And that’s when you felt it. The undeniable proof of what the sight of you like this had done to him. The thick, hard press of his arousal against the curve of your ass, straining against his slacks.

A fresh wave of heat rolled through you, a cry slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

Hotch groaned – actually groaned – his hips pressing forward, just enough to let you feel him.

“You feel that? That’s what you do to me, angel.”

Your breath hiccupped, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, your thighs clamping around his wrist, body trembling on the edge of something catastrophic.

“Aaron –”

“Be a good girl for me, hm? Come for me.”

And you did.

Your body tensed, your back arched, and then you shattered, a strangled sob escaping your lips as he worked you through it, whispering low, filthy praises into your ear, his grip never faltering.

Your body slumped against his, boneless, spent, your breathing uneven as you struggled to come back down. And when your hazy eyes flickered up to meet his in the mirror, the sight made your stomach flip all over again. 

“How was that, angel?”

He knew you would never be able to touch yourself again without thinking of this. Knew he had achieved exactly what he wanted.

“Really good,” you breathed, head lolling back against his shoulder, your body still trembling from the aftershocks.

His lips curled into a knowing smile before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good, honey. But I’m going to need you to take everything off and get on all fours.”

Your stomach tensed.

Fuck.

He was trying to kill you.

His hands finally released you, giving you space to move, but not before he watched.

Waited.

Your fingers were unsteady as they found the hem of your slip, lifting it slowly, peeling away the last barrier between you. The silk slipped over your head, landing somewhere on the floor, followed by your underwear.

The air hit your bare skin, goosebumps trailing in its wake but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver. It was him and the way he looked at you. You turned toward the bed, moving to crawl onto the mattress when his voice stopped you.

“Not the bed.”

You bit your lip as you turned back to face him, your pulse skittering in your throat. He was still fully dressed, still so composed when you were the exact opposite. His gaze dragged down your body at an achingly slow pace, taking his time, allowing himself to drink you in – every inch of you, every part he hadn’t gotten to see a few nights ago.

“The floor, angel. Right in front of the mirror.”

Your body burned as you complied, knees wobbling as you lowered yourself onto the floor. You positioned yourself exactly where he wanted, your palms pressing into the cool surface, your back arching slightly – offering yourself to him.

And the second you settled, the second you caught his gaze in the mirror you saw it. The way his eyes devoured you. The way his gaze landed between your thighs, locking onto your bare, glistening pussy, and the way his lips curled.

That bastard smirked.

Smirked at the mess between your legs, at what he had done to you.

You watched as he lowered himself behind you, his broad frame closing in, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a second skin. A sharp inhale tore through you as you felt the press of his thumb collecting the wetness from your folds, spreading it, claiming it.

And just as you started to adjust to the feeling, just as your body tried to catch up – his thumb was gone, replaced with his middle and ring finger, teasing at your entrance, then slowly, slowly pushing inside.

A sound left you, something between a gasp and a whimper, something utterly helpless, so desperate it made your skin burn.

He chuckled.

“You can use my fingers, honey. But you’re going to have to do the work.”

Your eyes snapped open, meeting his through the mirror.

He wasn’t kidding. His fingers stayed inside you, buried deep but he wasn’t moving them. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, desperate for friction, for more but he stayed still.

“Go on,” he said, his other hand pressing down on the small of your back, encouraging you. “Make yourself feel good.”

Your palms flattened against the hard surface beneath you, bracing yourself as you moved – tentative at first, a slow, testing roll of your hips as you slid down onto his fingers. The stretch had you sucking in a sharp breath, your lips parting around a whispered curse.

And he watched. His eyes never left you, locked onto your reflection in the mirror, tracking the way you rocked against his hands, the way your thighs trembled as you found your rhythm, the way you used him exactly the way he wanted you to.

But still it wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed all of him, buried deep inside you, stretching you open in ways his fingers never could. But he wasn’t offering that, so you took what you could get. You bucked your hips harder, forcing more friction, forcing the stretch, chasing what you knew only he could give you.

A sharp cry slipped from your lips. “Fuck, Aar –”

“I know, baby.” His fingers twitched inside you, pressing just enough to make you gasp, just enough to remind you he was still in control “I know.”

And then, just as quickly, they were gone.

A desperate whimper spilled from your lips at the sudden loss, your body clenching around nothing, the emptiness leaving a sharp pang of need that made your head spin. And yet, before panic could settle in, before you could beg for him, you heard it.

The click of his belt buckle.

Your head moved up to meet his eyes in the mirror just in time to see him work the leather through the loops before letting it drop to the floor with a thud. He never broke contact as he reached for the button of his slacks, undoing it before the soft sound of his zipper filled the room.

He took his time.

Watched you squirm, watched the way your thighs could do nothing but press together.

His slacks slipped down, bunching at his feet, and then, finally, his boxers. Your pulse pounded against your ribs as he exposed himself, the tip of his cock already slick with precum, showing you just how much he wanted this – wanted you.

Once his shirt was discarded, he lowered himself back down, hands finding your waist, fingers pressing into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to remind you who you belonged to. Your back arched, your body responding before your mind could catch up, offering yourself to him in every way you knew he wanted.

You felt the hard, warm press of his cock against the back of your thigh, the slickness of it smearing against your skin, though you weren’t sure if it was from him or from you.

It didn’t matter because the next thing he was doing was dragging himself against your aching, soaked pussy. A sharp gasp tore from your lips as the thick length of him slid through your folds just enough to have you clenching around nothing.

He did it again, slow and deliberate, letting you feel him, letting the weight of his cock glide through your wetness, coating himself in it, using your own arousal to make you squirm.

"Jesus," he exhaled, his grip on your hips tightening, fingertips pressing into your skin like he was barely holding on. "So fucking wet for me, angel. You need it that bad, huh?”

The desperation in your body was humiliating, but you didn’t care. Not when he was teasing you like this, not when the heat between your legs pulsed and throbbed with every slow glide of his cock, not when he was so close to giving you what you wanted but still holding back.

“So bad, please,” you begged, pushing back against him, arching your spine, doing anything to get him where you needed. Every inch of you was trembling, every muscle coiled tight, your body nothing but pure, raw need.

He hummed, rolling his hips just enough for his tip to nudge against your entrance.

“Okay, sweet girl, okay.” His voice was gentle as he gave in. “But I need you to watch.”

His hand trailed up your spine before threading into your hair, gripping just firmly enough to tilt your head up, forcing your eyes to meet his in the mirror.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

And just as you sucked in that breath, he thrust inside you, the sudden, overwhelming stretch stealing the air from your lungs. Your fingers dug into the floor, nails scraping against the hard surface as your body jolted forward from the sheer force of it. The sensation was too much, not enough, everything all at once. Your head spun, struggling to process the way he filled you, how impossibly deep he was, how your body clenched around him, trying to adjust, trying to take him.

A ragged curse tore from his lips, his grip on your waist tightening, fingers pressing so hard into your skin that you knew you’d feel it long after this moment had passed.

His pace was slow – tortuous if you had to use one word to describe it. You watched him in in the mirror, the way his head tipped back, brows furrowed in restraint, chest rising and falling as he bottomed out inside you, taking a second to breathe before pulling back, leaving just the tip inside—before slamming back in.

A wet, filthy sound filled the room, followed by a broken sob from your lips as your body struggled to keep up with the intensity of it. The way he moved, the way he owned every inch of you, the way he was ruining you.

You didn’t know what you were begging for when his name slipped past your lips, raw and desperate. You just knew you needed it. More of him. Deeper. Harder. Just more.

"You're gonna come for me," he growled, his breath hot against your skin. "Gonna make a mess all over my cock while I fuck you through it, yeah?"

You nodded mindlessly, over and over again. “Y-yeah. Y-Yes.”

His hand slipped between your thighs, finding you clit once more, pressing down with just the right amount of pressure, unravelling you inch by inch. Your body was already trembling, barely holding on, every muscle tensed.  

And he knew it. Of course, he knew it.

He could feel it, the way you clenched around him, the way your breath caught, the way you pushed back against him like you were chasing something you were already seconds away from losing yourself to.

“Fuck, baby, your gripping me so tight.”

Your body reacted to the words, your head dropping forward, your hands curling into fists against the floor as another wave of pleasure crashed through you.

"That's it, angel," he coaxed, his fingers moving faster, his thrusts hitting deeper. "Let me have it."

You came again, your body shuddering, incoherent mumbles falling from you lips as the orgasm swallowed you whole. But it still wasn’t enough for him. If anything, feeling you fall apart only spurred him on, made him rougher, hungrier, his grip bruising as he held you there, as he used your body to chase his own release.

His movements turned sloppy, his breath uneven, each thrust deep and desperate, dragging out his pleasure just a little longer. And then – his body tensed, his hands tightening on your hips as a sharp groan ripped from his throat, your name spilling from his lips as he buried himself inside you, coming hard, filling you completely.

His hips rocked into you a few more times, slower now, savouring every last second, his breath warm against your skin, ragged and uneven as he rode out the final waves of his release.

Then, his forehead dropped to your shoulder, his lips grazing your skin. “You okay?” he whispered.

You let out a breathless, satisfied hum. “More than okay.”

His hands slid to your hips and with careful movements, he rolled you onto your back, pulling out slowly before settling you against the floor. The loss of him sent a shiver through you, but you barely had time to dwell on it before his body hovered over yours.

You stretched beneath him, your fingers trailing up his arm, tracing the muscles still tensed from holding himself back. A lazy smirk tugged at your lips as you teased, "Who knew Aaron Hotchner had such a filthy mouth?"

“Consider it payback for not wearing a bra.”

You let out a laugh. “Well if that’s payback, I might just have to start wearing short skits with no underwear at the office.”

“Is that so?”

You grinned, stretching your arms above your head in an indulgent, satisfied way. “Mm-hm. I mean, if this is how you handle insubordination, I’d say I have a pretty strong case for pushing the dress code.”

His laugh was quiet, but it vibrated through you, something warm and rare and entirely for you. His weight shifted slightly as he reached for you, one hand trailing along your side, stopping just below your breast.

“Angel,” he murmured, dipping his head closer, brushing against your jaw before dragging down your neck. “You do that and it’ll be your last day in the office.”

“You’d fire me?”

He shook his head, his teeth grazing the delicate skin of your neck before soothing the spot with his tongue. “Never, honey. You just wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.”

divider creds. cafekitsune

[neon-sunsets]

aa4 is fundamentally a game about trust. about people who trust each other when they shouldn't and don't trust each other when they should, and about the ways that trust can be earned or broken or misplaced.

see, there isn't exactly a lot of mutual trust to go around in the game. let's take inventory: apollo and trucy trust each other; they also trust ema, who comes to trust them during turnabout corner; trucy and phoenix trust each other in their own weird way (like the fact that she doesn't seem all too worried about him apparently leaving her in apollo's care prior to turnabout succession, or that he allows her to run around crime scenes with his new employee). and, by the end of turnabout succession, apollo and klavier at least trust each other to help work towards the truth.

there's also phoenix and kristoph, who are quite a unique case. this is because kristoph obviously does not trust phoenix, is friends with him to keep up appearances and keep an eye on him, but maintains that outward facade of trust. and while I don't think phoenix spent seven years plotting revenge on kristoph, i do think he was suspicious of kristoph's role in the whole thing. so they were friends (as twisted and weird as their friendship may have been) in spite of, not because of, mutual trust - both of them say as much. this weird, shaky, frequently one-sided trust in each other is only fully broken once zak gramarye is murdered. it's a source of grief for both of them. they did care about each other, as much as neither of them wanted to.

aside from those relationships, though, much of the rest of the trust in the game is one-sided. when characters in aa4 trust each other, that trust is frequently betrayed.

kristoph trusts apollo to follow his lead and accuse the right person. the kitakis trust paul meraktis to treat their injuries. wocky kitaki trusts that his fiance loves him. klavier trusts daryan to do both of his jobs. lamiroir trusts machi and romein to keep her blindness a secret. trucy trusts her biological father. and in all of these cases, the person who trusts another is inevitably betrayed or disappointed. the game is packed full of these examples; I probably haven't found all of them (nor is a betrayal of trust unique to aa4, though I think the game has a unique degree of focus on it as a theme).

there are three specific examples of misplaced trust I want to focus on, because they're essential to the plot of the game.

first, before anything else, klavier gavin trusts the brother who is implied to have had a significant hand in raising him (by the anthology comics, but even if you don't believe that's the implication it's clear from their interactions in-game that kristoph feels he has authority over klavier, and that klavier cares a great deal about kristoph's opinion).

then, apollo justice trusts phoenix wright to be the man he is (used to be).

and finally, vera misham trusts her good luck charm to protect her from the outside world.

klavier's trust in kristoph allows him to be used as a puppet in kristoph's schemes. it means he never questions kristoph's role in it all; though he certainly has questions, he blames himself instead of the person who's actually responsible. it breaks klavier's heart, and to a certain extent his faith in his abilities, when he finds out about what kristoph has done.

apollo's trust in phoenix seriously impacts his belief in goodness and truth. apollo trusts phoenix to be true, and just, and righteous - the man he used to be, the man whose court tapes apollo studied in law school. and then his idol hands him forged evidence and has the gall to laugh about it.

vera's trust in her good luck charm nearly kills her, and this is also a case where her lack of trust in the outside world is consequential. she should be able to put more trust in apollo, in trucy, and in the justice system. but she can't, and it makes her fearful, and the one thing she does trust - her good luck charm - is the one thing she shouldn't.

these three examples are driving factors within the story. obviously klavier's (and vera's, by extension) trust in kristoph is important because it sets into motion the events that culminate in turnabout succession. but apollo's trust in phoenix is also crucial because it allows those events to be exposed.

the rest of the time, the characters in aa4 tend not to trust each other. and they generally have good reason not to. the many instances where a character does not trust another character and is totally justified in doing so, are, in my opinion, less interesting. some examples include romein letouse, who had no reason to trust anyone he was working with given the nature of his interpol mission, and drew misham, whose paranoia, though extreme, was pretty much justified given his involvement with kristoph. their lack of trust isn't foolish, it's out of self preservation.

what are more interesting are the really important instances where characters should have trusted each other and didn't.

zak gramarye doesn't trust kristoph, so he gets a new attorney and kick-starts kristoph's murder plot. then he doesn't trust olga orly and knocks her out, which gets him killed. (obviously he had no way of knowing that kristoph was planning the things he was planning, but certainly not trusting olga is his own fault).

pal meraktis doesn't trust alita tiala, so he tries to kill her. wocky kitaki doesn't trust that his parents are trying to help him, so he acts out and gets himself into a lot of trouble. daryan doesn't trust klavier and goes behind his back, becoming so desperate that he resorts to murder. magnifi, zak, and valant gramarye all have levels of mutual mistrust that lead to a murder trial for magnifi's suicide.

apollo and phoenix don't trust each other, and they both have good reason not to, but it makes both of their lives a lot harder and I do think it damages their relationship. apollo isn't sure if he can believe phoenix and phoenix isn't sure if he can trust apollo to be who he needs him to be. that suspicion permeates all of their interactions in aa4. (they're so fucked up in this game, i'm obsessed with their dynamic.)

and, of course, thalassa gramarye doesn't trust that her children will want her in their life, so she hurts them by keeping their connection a secret. phoenix trusts her judgement and shouldn't, so he helps keep that secret. no one in that situation makes the right choice, and though we never actually get to see the fallout, I can't imagine apollo "foster care kid" "abandoment issues" "punched his hero in the face because he betrayed him" justice would react well to this revelation. I think it sets him and phoenix back, possibly right back to where they were in turnabout corner. and while I think they can repair their relationship over time, I do think it's a significant setback. and, importantly, it's a consequence of the same misplaced trust or lack of trust that is exemplified throughout the game.

and what I think aa4 is trying to say with all of this, just as its conclusion in regards to the truth is that the truth is so frequently ugly and upsetting, is that trust can only be useful if it is mutual and invested in. that people have many motivations, some of which we can never hope to know, and that sometimes they will betray us.

and, looking at apollo specifically, I think aa4 is telling us that trust is worth it in the end, even if it hurts when it is broken. apollo trusts each of his mentors and is betrayed by each of them (to different degrees), and yet he ends up in the right place because he trusts them and others. the force of his convictions, his belief in doing the right thing, and his belief in the good within other people carry him through other people's misdeeds.

and, if he hadn't trusted phoenix in turnabout trump, he never would have brought kristoph to justice or found his sister. he never would have gotten the chance to become a full-fledged attorney. aa4 is saying that it was worth it, in the end.

[haunted-garden-of-stories]

I honestly agree for the most part on this. We know that due to Carnie(the refurbished Lefty bot Henry made that the company reused), they are trying to reuse older technologies and trying to integrate them. Probably to learn and grow but more so to save money. I do have one issue with this theory I have not read the books but I don't think Edwin "created" the mimic fully the software yes- but the body if I remember hearing he used left over robot parts from around the building. I believe the robot he originally used was jackie or a random endo and reprogrammed it to entertain his son (David, I think he name was) before the accident. We know the mimic has been altered physically due to some of the info from the books and also if we take a look at the mimic in the game- they repaired themselves with parts around them also We can tell due to the limp running that either they are damaged or using improper parts. We know the mimic due to all the evidence given was made (physically before Edwin reworked them) around the same times as sun and moon due to their teeth. I heard that Edwin purchased the Factory and the Carnival house from a buyer that seemed eager to get rid of it.

So we know Edwin purchased the property with the structures and likely any remnants attached. The seller was eager to tell and was selling for a cheap price. Which means a few things. Either something happened to that property and someone was trying to get rid of it fast, the orginal owner was trying to get rid of it and run away as fast as they could, or the owner was waiting for the right person to sell it too(I suspect that Fazbear entrainment owned the property and they were waiting for a "brilliant new genius" to take over there work(because i beleive the company has been seeking out geniuses and luring them to the company) or they were just another contractor that worked directly with the company and went "missing". The house has Sun and moon motifs in the windows and obviously have carnival themes in the building. We have repeated call backs to Fallfest and carnivals so this building is likely connected to it prior to Fazbears involvement as we know it. Also if we look at sun and moons design it's very clear they seem to be some sort of entainer likely a theater animatronic due to sun having the dramatic flair of a actor and the "daycare theater" in secuirty breach and the ruin theater masks. So it is proof taht Sun and Moon were refurbished into daycare attendants.

As it stands I don't believe we have any full details on animatronics that solely Edwin(please correct me if im wrong) have created aside from vacuums(due to the books- he was a rising genius that made a successful vacuum robot and purchased the factory and house with his wife before she passed in child birth). We also know that there was likely human made costumes of sun and moon due to the timeliness placements as we can likely estimate the purchase of the property by edwin to be around the early 1970s due to him buying the location around the time his wife was pregnant- then passing- then there son roughly at least 4 or oldest i dare say 9 for the fazbear company to come and collect the mimic as Edwin left after his son passed in 1979 based off the trailer. As it did not seem he was in possession of the property for long prior to his wife passing and I don't believe there was a mention of Edwin going to school so I say they were roughly 4 to 6 years old as Edwin made the mimic to entertain and play with his son as he ran around. So I say Edwin purchased the factory around 1974.

Edwin also was mentioned in the books that he wnated to create robots that did the jobs humans didn't wish to do. And I don't feel that sun and moon would fall under that. There entertainers- originally. So either the fazbear company after being in contract with Edwin made sun and moon which is possible.- or they were already there at the factory/house. What bothers me is the design differences the other other naimtronic that reminds me of them is the older DJ music man we see in the trailer when sun and moon talk there teeth movie like those metal pieces on a music box like how dj is designed.

I feel that sun and moon could have been a design of the previous owner and made prior or Edwin came in and finished them. Though I don't think so. At a event there was some voice lines of Jackie's played for people- and a few of those lines sound nearly identical to sun and moons voice lines. One of they says "happy birthday" and I don't remember the rest but you xould also hear the interference of people I beleive like there was crowd of children. So that means sun and moon as well as jackie/mimic were active at the same time in the public most likely at a fallfest or as a traveling carnival.

I will probably coming back to edit this post but I'm more so just getting out all the info that comes to mind as of this moment and I will most likely be revisting this to reorganize it. Please also correct me at all if any if this info is incorrect or if you have anything to add.

(EDIT) I just remembered in security breach we fine a ticket for Fredbear's Singin' show for I think 5 cents or 50 cents or 10 cents- I don't remember for the exact price but I know based off the design and pricing and due to a game theory they they company or a version of it existed since the 1930's roughly.

The Daycare Attendant might be in Secret Of The Mimic!! (Theory)

I remember Matpat saying that he thinks Edwin, the man who created the Mimic, is also responsible for the creation of the Daycare Attendant. I think he's right. He even mentioned the jester costumes that were shown in the books and spoke about how they matched up with the theme of the Daycare Attendant being a jester. Well, we've already seen a freaky jester cutout in the trailer of Secret Of The Mimic. He also mentioned the teeth of the Mimic being the same as the Daycare Attendant's endo teeth.

But I have even more evidence now that points toward Edwin making the Daycare Attendant. This might possibly mean he has a chance of showing up in SOTM!

First, I want to point out what I believe to be the BIGGEST indicator of the Daycare Attendant being made in Edwin's factory: The Faz-Wrench.

In the trailer of SOTM, we see an item called a "data diver" getting plugged into some sort of computer. This causes the screen to pull up HELPER, which seems to be the earliest version of Helpy. This "data diver" device has two prongs on it just like the Faz-Wrench.

In Ruin, this device mostly works on the MXES security nodes that keep the Mimic from escaping. I'm assuming it does something similar here. However, it also works on the Daycare Attendant. He is the ONLY animatronic that it would naturally work on (Roxanne is a Security node due to her mask, which was put on only between the events of Security Breach and Ruin).

Sun himself was aware that the Faz-Wrench worked on him and that it would reboot him. He has seen this wrench before. He remembers it. It's clearly important to him and was used to reboot him in the past, only to have probably been forgotten about and not used by Fazbear Employees for years till one brings one to the Pizzaplex to set up the nodes. If the Daycare Attendant was made in Edwin's factory, this early version was probably used on him and was something he recognized immediately.

Another thing I want to discuss is the fact that the Daycare Attendant himself has some neat unique mechanics that Fazbear probably thought were cool. Since the player is going to retrieve the Mimic due to his unique technology in SOTM, it wouldn't surprise me if they also wanted the technology the Daycare Attendant has. We can also note that they were never able to use the Mimic's technology and, while they did use Sun/Moon, they clearly didn't know how to properly use them and were unable to fix Moon when he started acting up. But I think they were probably fascinated by an animatronic that could switch personas based on the lighting it was in.

One last thing is we can see evidence of past versions of characters that we know Fazbear owns by this point such as HELPY and Music Man, along with cutouts of what appears to be an older version of the Mediocre Melodies and possibly Montgomery Gator. It looks like Fazbear may have claimed more than just the Mimic when they sent employees to the factory...and that included the beloved Daycare Attendant!

Now, will we see him in the game? I'm unsure. I think it's possible. If we do see him in the game, I really, really would like to see Eclipse again. This would be the perfect place to see him again!!

Since it looks like the Mimic isn't the only threat (judging by the Music Man thing), I'm guessing we might have to use the data diver to reboot some rowdy animatronics. This could possibly include our boy Moon having to be rebooted into Eclipse! We know that Steel Wool is very much aware of how much fans love him. I think they'd put him in the game again if they could!!

At the very least, I think it's safe to think they were both made by Edwin.

(Also, when I was writing this, I noticed the Mimic's/Jackie's laugh in the trailer sounds so much like Moon!!)

[birbinabox]

So like lil guy tim? I’ve been wanting to go for an au so I just started designing tbh

My plan is something futuristic with a bit of that old fantasy logic but they dress like normal people (sometimes) or something idfk

But we haves a lil tim

[puppppppppy]

who is your favorite AA character? 👁️👁️

ziska… I hope capcom brings her back someday

[tj-crochets]

In the category of new and unpleasant muscle spasms, I found out if I have bad enough muscle spasms* in my throat it can make me cough so hard it almost triggers an asthma attack but my inhaler doesn't help I'm okay now but wow that was unpleasant, so I will not be sewing any more fish tonight

*I have salt wasting syndrome and the electrolyte messed-upped-ness can lead to muscle spasms. I have been tested for nerve and muscle issues, I don't have them, it's just salt problems

[ashton-ryder]

Despite how JP tried to make it sound like a good time that Sada was family, Ashton inherently disagreed. And therein lies the problem of why there was always a line drawn between. "Then she won't ever let me be a part of it." It wasn't an opinion up for discussion, it was a fact simply stated. Whether evident only now or later, Sada made it clear to him that they were all hers. He didn't belong in it. It's why no matter how much Charlie and Jeremiah says he's welcome up on the 10th floor, the air there was always unwelcoming to his presence, knowing she was right there, as if daring him to overstep his place and learn what the consequences were.

It didn't exactly comfort him the way JP said it, the word that raised immediate alarm bells, "yet." Ash appreciated the gesture but yet always held the ominous weight of it being true sooner or later. "So if you had the reasons, you would," the overthinker in him dissecting his words that Ash wished he kept to himself, just thank JP and move on, and hope he doesn't ever tell her. It was enough of an assurance, Ash should be thankful for that, yet because it was something so close to his heart, he wanted to stay guarded.

He let the silence mull over for a moment or two, the fact that JP never knew all this time, while Ashton had assumed he did. "I had a mission in New York, with a small team, there was a terrorist threat, we had to stop them at all costs," Ashton let his voice simmer down to rationality, explaining the thing that probably started it all, "one of those threats neutralized was one of Sada's main suppliers. Didn't even know till years later when I moved here." It disturbed him to know that Sada was able to get intel on the marine squad from that mission either way. But there's nothing else to it, that's all.

You're still one of us, don't ever doubt that again. Ashton gaze bore into the ground and space between them, trying to will those words to sink in well, because it was nice to hear, a comfort and reassurance of a constant between the fine lined cracks. "..okay," Ash murmured with a nod, corner of his lips twitched with a small smile. Watery blues only looked up then when JP apologized, a rare occurrence especially a completely sincere one. He wanted to brush it off, say it's fine, sweep it water under the bridge, but that seemed to belittle JP's sincerity, and the hurt Ash had felt. "And I'm sorry I never said anything before." He had a bad habit of internalizing, he knew, but it has always been the safest course of action.

He exhaled a breath that came out like a chuckle, "that's a pretty tall order of a promise," warning to give him an out. Though Ashton wouldn't blame him for breaking it. "And you know you have me, all of you." I'm not leaving. "We cleaned up the broken glass." Or at least a bulk of it and assumed Jeremiah cleaned the rest after asking him to leave.

The shared status of Ash and Sada being chosen to join in the ranks of the Rose family hadn't mattered to John-Paul before and it wouldn't now - regardless of how angry he was with her at the moment. There wasn't a choice between them. It was, and always would be, both. He would just need to learn how to navigate the thin, fragile line he toed by keeping his loyalty where it lay. "Yeah, well, how else do you think I know how to cut deep when I want to?" he asked rhetorically. "Family," he explained simply.

Bittersweet as it was, it was a victory that Ash hadn't once again dismissed John-Paul's mentioning of the two men being involved in any way deeper than friendship. What little spike of joy he'd felt over Ash finally admitting there as something there dissipated almost as soon as it came, Ash's panic almost visible in the dim light of the moon. "Haven't yet," he reminded him with a small shake of his head. "And I don't see a reason to start telling anyone," he added in assurance. He knew all too well what it felt like to want bits and pieces to remain hidden.

"I'm not trying to start up all the shit again, but I would think it's pretty fucking apparent no one tells me anything," he went on with a sigh, leaning against the railing. "So, no, she hasn't told me. Why do you think I had to ask?" he added rhetorically, though his self-disappointemtent was evident. He picked at his fingers, trying his best to focus his gaze as they blurred the longer he stared at them. He knew he was a lot of things, but he'd always be proud of his trustworthiness. It was a hard blow to find out it had all been an illusion.

"Look, I don't know what the fuck is going to happen after all this shit, but I know one thing and that's that your still one of us. I don't care whatever the fuck is going on between you and Sada, don't ever doubt that again. Alright," he told him, finally letting his gaze find Ash once more. " And.....I'm....sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you weren't. I promise you'll always have me, no matter what, okay?"

[wormchaser]

you are complaining about complaining too much while complaining about the fact that maybe people dont like you because you complain too much while complaining about being alone. just stop complaining and do something about it. talk to people. reach out. dont just wait for someone to come to you first.

i have tried reaching out to different people in the past year or so but it never works. i understand its my own fault for letting relationships decay because of my own insecurities and issues but that doesn't mean i can just will myself to think or believe different things about myself. it's a self fulfilling prophecy ; i think people don't like me so i don't reach out so people don't like me etc . i am sure you do not want to hear me list all the things i want to say in response so i will put them in the tags.

[a-dash-in-the-middle]

wanting to visit the archives without looking like a fanatic bc nobody likes posting government documents online apparently

[kyouka-supremacy]

Mmmhh...

[mariocki]

New Scotland Yard: The Money Game (2.10, LWT, 1972)

"Incidentally, I've been looking up that fraud case Audrey was involved in with Freddie Larch, the time he got nicked."

"Oh, what about it?"

"Well, I think your friend's an even nastier piece of work than we give him credit for."

"Very likely. What's that got to do with Phil Horden?"

"Not much. Except nothing's ever quite as simple as it looks."

[altruistic-meme]

shoutout to walmart for doing more for my community than the government officials are

[eyivibyemi]

✧ I won’t really write descriptions for these, but see original post tags for explanation/commentary on the song snippet ✧

[asclexeposting]

sometimes i feel jealous of cisgender people but then. i dont it’s whatever man. no wait i am. i am very jealous of cisgender people in a fucked up way. what