#he learns how to be blind just in case she ever isn’t with him

[doctorsiren]

diego seeing through mia is the coolest idea ever, but how exactly does it work? are there any limitations?

First thought: well of course he can see through her! She’s a ghost!

Second thought: it’s more of he can only see her, so she leads him, tells him visual information he might need to know, and also just keeps him company

BUT this did give me an interesting idea of like him actually being able to see through her eyes after the spirit bond between the two gets stronger

like like like Zane and his robo-bird from Ninjago?? Y’know what I mean?? So like, not all the time, but it’s like a power, sort of like being like a spirit medium

But instead of channeling spirits, he’s watching the spirit channel or some dumb joke like that LMAO

She isn’t tethered to him, so she can go wherever and still be channeled by Maya and Pearl, but she tends to stay by his side (just like she would have been by his side at his hospital bed before she got killed)

Her spirit also fluctuates in strength and power, so sometimes she’s very visible to him and basically feels corporeal, but then other times, she’s more faint and see-through

[ptersparkers]

reckless (aaron hotchner)

summary: After two years with the BAU, you get the feeling that Aaron Hotchner isn’t your biggest fan. That’s too bad, because you really like him.

notes: hello. this is singlehandedly the longest fic i’ve ever written (like 21.7K words). i didn’t intend for it to be this long and i tried to see where i could break it up, but i think it flows better if it’s in one piece. happy reading! x 

(edit: adding in that the reader is fem)

a huge thank you to @hotchsdoormat​ for being the best person alive and for listening to me rant about this piece. love u forever.

warnings: typical criminal minds speak, kidnapping and mentions of broken arms and ribs and typos, probably. 

***

Years of dreaming of becoming a federal agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit led to the beginning of an illustrious career solving crimes and traveling across the country. It had only taken guest lectures by none other than the BAU themselves for the idea of catching killers and outsmarting them to do so to seep its way to the back of your mind.

You just wish you liked your job.

You like your work. You like walking into the office with a sense of purpose and you like profiling bad people and saving the good ones. You even like the shitty coffee that never seems to run out and you don’t mind the early call times and the sudden departures. 

What you don’t like, however, is your boss. But you know that’s just because he doesn’t like you. 

In your two years with the BAU, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Aaron throw a smile in your direction if it wasn’t meant for someone standing next to you. Two years of Aaron being dismissive and choosing to sit farthest from you in the conference room and on the jet. Two years of watching him foster friendships with your coworkers without sparing you a second glance. But work is work.

You’re an outsider. It’s almost what you expected. 

Emily’s the first one to tell you that you don’t need to take it personally. Her rocky start with the BAU and stories of learning that trust takes time eased your worries for a while, but Aaron never seemed to give you the time of day aside collaborating with the rest of the team. Everyone says he’s notorious for being stoic and intimidating, but you don’t see it that way. In your mind, he loathes you. 

Which is unfortunate, because you liked Aaron the most.

The guest lecture had sent you into a spiral of researching recently closed BAU cases and watching hours of press conferences led by Aaron. You appreciated the way he spoke about his work. He spoke about it like it was his due diligence and you liked that he treated each victim and their loved ones with grace and kindness. 

It kills you to know that he doesn’t trust you despite doing your best in the field. Your six month review approached and you passed with flying colors, earning a short-lived celebration from Erin Strauss before she exited Aaron’s office. But he kept quiet the entire examination, aside from putting his own input with how you acted in the field. He said you were diligent, followed orders well enough, and could listen to directions. It was the most you’d ever heard Aaron speak about you, but the swell of pride didn’t last long.

Sometimes people compare the two of you when it comes to your worth ethic. Last ones to leave, can’t be bothered when focused, and the need to excel in your career field while downplaying your contribution. Perhaps the need to do good in the world catapulted you into considering a role where you’d be actively helping others instead of a career where it would be too late. 

But every time you sit at your desk, opposite of Aaron’s office, you find yourself frowning. The blinds are always closed and you always wondered if Aaron could feel you staring at the emblem on his door when you wondered how you managed to keep your job. 

“I can hear your brain all the way from here,” Derek says, leaning against the stall of your desk. You avert your eyes from the door to his voice. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you say.

Derek gives you a look. “I know it’s not nothing, sweetness.”

“Just tired,” you lie, “I slept poorly last night.”

Your gaze focuses on the files in front of you and Derek looks between you and Aaron’s office. He does his best not to let you know it’s been affecting him too; everyone’s noticed how Aaron’s been giving you the short end of the stick and that his wavering trust hasn’t disappeared like it had for the rest of them. It doesn’t do any good for team morale. 

For a moment in the beginning of your time with the BAU, you think he’s asking you to prove yourself. You’re new, you need to get used to team dynamics, and you need to prove yourself capable before he can trust that you’d have everyone’s back. You understand that. 

What you don’t understand, however, is why he treats you like a first-day agent after your contributions. 

“Alright,” Derek says, knowing better than to pry you out of your work. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

He leaves you momentarily when Aaron steps out of his office. You try not to look up, but it’s hard to ignore him when your desk is pointed in front of his door. He’s wearing a classic black suit with a red tie, belt and shoes to match. You know what the look on his face means–there’s a case. 

“Everyone in the conference room,” Aaron pointedly says.

Derek finishes pouring two cups of coffee and brings it over to the room where he sees you sitting in front of the screen. You thank him for the cup as he sits beside you and Reid gives you a small ‘good morning’ before everyone files into the conference room and their attentions are focused on the faces on the screen. 

“Two children have gone missing in Los Angeles, California,” Penelope begins. “Gracie and Olivia McCormack, four and six respectively, were last seen in their shared bedroom last night and LAPD has contacted us to help find them.”

“Looks like the mother reported going into their bedroom to wake them up, only to find them missing,” you say, frowning. 

“Is the father in the picture?” JJ asks. 

“Jaqueline, the mother, divorced Scott McCormack before her youngest was born,” Penelope informs.

“New flame?” Emily wonders. 

“Yes ma’am. Logan James.” Penelope presses a few buttons and Jaqueline and Logan appear on the screen. “This is where it gets tricky.”

“It looks like both Scott and Logan were abusive towards Jaqueline during their marriages,” David reads from the file. 

“Jaqueline’s pretty familiar with the local hospital,” you mutter. 

“We can talk about the file and start to strategize on our way to LA,” Aaron says, packing his file in his go-bag, which is already in hand. “Wheels up in thirty.” 

***

The six hour plane ride doesn’t feel as nauseating as you had predicted. Your second cup of coffee sits on the table in front of you as your file is displayed on the surface, along with everyone else. Departure wasn’t terrible, mild turbulence followed but nothing you couldn’t handle. The armrest becomes your best friend on these flights. 

“Did Scott kidnap Gracie and Olivia because he wants his kids?” Derek says aloud. 

“Most likely,” Reid adds. “Scott’s a migrant construction worker. I can’t imagine anyone letting him raise two children without a steady home or income, though.”

“So he’s angry at the loss of his children and wants them back,” Aaron says. “Garcia, does Scott have any background of domestic abuse prior to his marriage with Jaqueline?”  

“One count of domestic battery with a former girlfriend, but his childhood tells us a whole different story.”

“What is it, babygirl?” Derek beckons. 

“Scott was born to heroin addicts and they’d leave him in hotel rooms for days while they tried to rob local convenience stores for money, presumably for their next high. Poor kid, he never stood a chance.”

“Damn,” Derek says, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine growing up like that.”

“He was put into the care of his grandparents on his mother’s side until he was six and–oh, ouch–he apparently caused too much trouble for himself that his grandparents gave him to the foster care system.”

“I can imagine that abandonment took a toll on Scott,” JJ says.

“Take the kids away from Jacqueline as punishment,” adds Rossi. “Makes sense, especially when Jacqueline was the one to file for divorce.”

“What about Jaqueline’s marriage with Logan? Haven’t we established that Logan was abusive during their marriage?” you ask. 

Aaron raises his eyebrow. “What about it?” 

“I think it’s important to consider him in all of this, Sir. If Logan was abusive to Jaqueline throughout their marriage, maybe Scott sees this kidnapping as some sort of effort to save them from harm.”

All eyes are on you now. It makes your skin crawl and you hope you don’t say the wrong thing.

“Go on.”

“If Scott really did take his kids, I don’t know if he did it to get back at her by kidnapping them. It makes more sense that Scott would want to save his children from an abuser. I mean, he knows what it’s like to live with abusive and absent parents. What if Scott wants to protect his children from suffering what he went through?” 

“Interesting,” Dave hums. “You’re theorizing that Scott considers this kidnapping as rescuing?”

You nod. “It makes sense. Maybe he has some animosity towards Jaqueline for letting Logan into their lives and retaliates by taking his children away from her because he thinks he’s saving them.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Aaron says pointedly. 

“I’m just spitballing,” you say. “I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes.”

“Well, let’s keep it that way.”

You shut your mouth and revert your eyes back to the file that’s in your lap, desperate for any minute distraction it can give you. The rest of the team is stunned in silence and Spencer tries his best to fill in the awkward silence by reviewing all of the facts that have been listed in the report. 

At this moment, you feel small. Aaron’s dismissive attitude makes you feel somewhat inadequate at your job and you find it difficult to remind yourself of all the cases you’ve helped close when your boss has just undermined your work in front of your colleagues. 

His coldness towards you is what you don’t get. Aaron has a reputation for maintaining professionalism, which you can appreciate, but it seems like his stoic tendencies extend far beyond keeping it civil in the workplace. It feels like you’ve been isolated and boxed out from day one and despite having gotten to know the rest of the team on a deeper level, you still walk on eggshells around Aaron. It makes you wonder why he hired you at all.

From the other side of the plane, Aaron takes a seat in an empty chair and looks out the window pensively. He knows he’s being hard on you and he knows it’s unfair that he’s treating you much harsher than the others, but Aaron knows that it’s for the best. 

When you walked into his office for your initial interview, there was no doubt that you were the perfect candidate to fill in the role as a new profiler. Your past experiences had clued you into profiling and he promised Strauss that your addition to the team would benefit the BAU as a whole. 

And Aaron was right. Cases were closing at a higher rate than previously, your quick thinking and problem solving skills aided the capture of many prolific criminals, and it almost felt like you’d been with the team since the beginning. 

What Aaron didn’t account for, however, was developing feelings for you. 

All it took was a simple undercover operation to see you in a completely different light. The unsub had targeted women who looked like you and you were more than ready to step up to the plate to catch him. It took seeing you in a sleek black dress to make Aaron’s heart lurch out of his chest and make him feel like he was a teenager in love all over again, and he hated it. 

He hated feeling this way towards his coworker. For weeks, his mind bounced around the idea of what it might cost the team; your respective positions might cause an interference because of the dating policy set in place and how it would look from the outside. Aaron didn’t want to jeopardize your career by making it seem like you were providing unprofessional favors if news were to come out that you were romantically linked with him. He didn’t want your career to be damaged just because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. 

Moreover, Aaron hadn’t felt like this towards anyone since marrying Haley.

He had dated casually but never thought about the possibility of anything serious coming out of it. Aaron thought he might’ve come close to it when he had dated Beth for a while, but her career taking her across the country made him realize how unstable his life already was. Dating became a question of who gets along with Jack and the rest of his family and who is able to handle his frequent absences. His marriage to Haley showed Aaron the downside of traveling all the time and he’d be damned if he made that mistake again.

The idea of liking you in any capacity that wasn’t professional scared Aaron to death. He hates that he’s willing to find any excuse to walk by your desk or strike up a conversation with you if time permitted. He hates that his mind often wanders to a life of domesticity with you. The only logical possibility for him to combat his feelings for you is to keep you at arms length and treat you like he would any of his coworkers, which means keeping your personal lives separate and maintaining professionalism at all times.

It works a little too well and Aaron doesn’t realize it. He misplaces his anger—the frustration of knowing he can’t have you the way he wants you—and you’re at the receiving end. Aaron thinks he’s doing his best by delegating and separating you from him in the field, but he doesn’t realize that it’s causing professional tension because you constantly think you aren’t doing enough to help the team solve cases and catch criminals. 

Aaron spends the rest of the flight looking over reports the precinct sent over before the plane lands in Los Angeles. You elect to keep your nose buried in your reports for the fear of looking like you aren’t working hard enough.

***

The Los Angeles weather has cooled down when you land and Aaron has ordered everyone to head to the precinct first thing after touching down. The detectives are kind enough to reserve a room for all of you to work out of and you waste no time setting up the white board with the missing girls and timeline of the abduction. 

The stakes are high and you can feel the tension in the room. You aren’t a stranger to cases like these and you know that everyone is trying their best to keep themselves together for the sake of the department and the family of the victims. You try not to read into Aaron’s coldness to you too much. You’ve convinced yourself enough times that it’s the stress of the job and being away from his home that keeps him running on pure stress and adrenaline to prevent you from overthinking your position on his team. 

Aaron has you and Spencer stay behind in the precinct to work on the profile and piece together a timeline of the abduction, and you’re more than grateful you don’t have to spend time in the field with him. The relaxation enters your body the section you see him step out of the precinct and Spencer can’t help but pry. 

“You okay?” he asks.

You turn around from the white board and your sleeve smudges the freshly written text. The annoyance bubbles up in your chest and you hastily erase the mess you created and rewrite it before turning your attention back to Spencer.

“Stressed out, but otherwise I’m good.”

He pauses. “You’ve seemed that lately, though.”

“Can you blame me?” you ask defensively. “Our job isn’t exactly low-stress.”

“It’s just that every time Hotch enters the room, you stiffen up and you seem to lose your voice, and you play with your nails. It’s your biggest tell, actually.”

You give Spencer a pointed look. “Reid, I did not ask to be profiled.”

“Sorry,” he relents. “I just…look, I care about you and I hate seeing that you feel like you can’t share your ideas with us. Is something bothering you?”

You know Spencer knows. You’re sure the team knows why you’re apprehensive about your work and second guess yourself every time you bring forth a new theory or concept. But it’s hard to admit it out loud when all you’ve done is complain about him in your head and push your feelings aside for the sake of solving cases. 

But you know Spencer has always looked out for you after the first time you took a bullet for him a week into the job after barely getting to know each other. It’s the same way that he looks out for you in the field, protecting your cover and being the first to volunteer partnering with you when Aaron asks. He’s keen and perceptive, and you know you can’t hide your feelings from him unless you want to jeopardize another relationship with your coworker.

“I feel like Hotch doesn’t like me,” you say earnestly. “And I mean it in a way that seems almost personal.”

“He’s been pretty distant,” Spencer adds.

You shake your head. “It feels like he doesn’t trust my judgment or values what I have to say unless one of you backs me up. I can’t really tell you when I started to feel this way, but I’ve always felt like I have to walk on eggshells around him or else he’ll fire me.”

“No one’s going to fire you,” Spencer reassures. “You have an exceptional skill at finding unsubs and getting into their heads. It’s quite impressive how you’re able to put yourself in their shoes.”

“Thanks, I think,” you say with a laugh. “But you saw what happened on the plane. Hotch shot down my theory and told me not to jump to any conclusions even though I was just theorizing. I feel like he doesn’t want to listen to what I have to say because he doesn’t think there’s any value in it.” 

Spencer pauses. He sees your grip on the dry erase pen and knows how frustrated you feel. He knows you, the way you think, your work ethic, and just how badly you want to save these girls. He also knows how to distract you from your own feelings.

“Then tell me about your theory,” Spencer chides. 

“Scott might’ve taken his children as a form of punishment against Jaqueline. Sure, I think that’s a plausible theory to go off of, considering she was the one who filed for divorce. But he was never abusive towards the girls, whereas Logan was abusive to all three of them.”

He smiles when he knows it’s working.

“So you’re thinking that Scott is trying to rescue Gracie and Olivia from further abuse?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “As a parent, I can’t imagine tolerating a stranger abusing your kids. Maybe in Scott’s mind, Jaqueline was allowing Logan to abuse them without realizing he was doing the same to her.”

“The wife had full custody of the kids too,” Spencer adds, opening a case file. “He was only allowed supervised visits with a social worker present if she allowed it to happen and in the time they’ve been divorced, she hadn’t let Scott see them since she and Logan got together.”

“Okay, so Scott had enough and wanted to take matters into his own hands. If his ex-wife won’t take care of the kids and neither will her new husband, it’s up to him to take care of the girls.” 

“It looks like Scott’s had a problem with authoritative figures his entire life,” he says, frowning. Spencer turns the case file towards you. “His grandparents were physically and emotionally abusive and social workers did nothing about it. Looks like he was also a truant during his time in foster care.” 

“Get this. He’s been fired from multiple construction sites because he couldn’t follow orders,” you read. 

“Jacqueline was also the breadwinner of their relationship. I think Scott resents people who hold authority.”

“Scott wants to raise his kids,” you say, snapping your fingers. “It’s a rescue mission because he thinks he can raise them better than she can.”

Spencer grabs his phone and dials Aaron.

“What is it, Spencer?”

“Y/N and I talked more about her theory on the abduction. I think she’s right.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything. You’re almost sure he’s going to tell you to change the profile.

“We’ll meet you at the precinct in fifteen.”

***

You consider yourself lucky that Spencer backs your theory with claims and evidence. Your voice wavers multiple times when Aaron asks you to make your case, and the way he’s looking at you makes you doubt yourself. 

But everyone comes to the realization that you’re right. A few conversations with Jacqueline and an interrogation with Logan convinces Aaron that your theory had been the correct one all along. You should feel happy, but you don’t. 

You feel like you have to piggyback off of your coworkers and get them to support you before you can make your case heard. You feel like the smallest person in the room when you stand next to seasoned profilers who you’re sure Aaron values more than you. The weight of the world is on your shoulders and you carry it with you every time you formulate new ideas you want to share with the team. 

But you don’t dwell on this too long. 

Aaron has Spencer comb through security footage of local gas stations while Emily and David talk to Scott’s most recent employer. Derek and JJ are searching his last known whereabouts and searching for the girls, which leaves you and Aaron.

You’re barely able to hear his command. He wants you to talk to Jacqueline and try to coax more information out of her while he connects with Penelope about financial records and possible places he’s hiding the girls. She’s your age and he figures you might connect with her better than JJ did.

Jaqueline is understandably crying when you walk into the room. You hand her a box of tissues upon entering and she doesn’t say anything. She starts to open up after you tell her about yourself, your nieces and nephews, and you show her photos of them to prove yourself. You let her know you’re not a mother and can’t imagine the immense pain she’s going through, but you know what it’s like to care for people and how much it hurts when something bad happens to them.

Slowly, Jaqueline begins to talk. You ask her about her relationship with Scott and Logan, and all the important places that hold significance between the two marriages. She lists off a few and you make a note of it for later. Aaron calls you from the interview when Jaqueline has started to close herself in. He lets her go and gives her his business card in case she wants to talk, but tells her they’ll be in contact soon.

He doesn’t say a word about the interrogation. He just tells you to see if Derek and JJ need help canvassing more area. 

Two days later and the team is nowhere near finding Jaqueline’s children. Scott’s previous employer had less than stellar things to say about him and you’re beginning to panic at the thought of your ability to catch him and save the girls. Penelope calls with a development and thinks one of two locations is where Scott might be hiding the children. His trailer in East LA or a small house a friend of his owns. 

Aaron dispatches Dave, Emily, and JJ to the trailer while he commands you, Derek, and Spencer to follow him to the house. It’s located off of the freeway off the beaten path and you have a bad feeling about what’s about to happen.

Aaron’s driving like he knows something you don’t. You’ve taken a seat in the back with Spencer and listen as Derek points Aaron in the direction of the house. It’s getting dark outside, the sun is just barely above the horizon, and you know everyone has to be quick in order to save the girls if they’re in the house. 

LAPD officers drive behind the SUV. Aaron pulls over and you can hear the gravel underneath the tire. You swing the door open with all your might and draw your gun out as the rest of the team does, following Aaron’s orders to follow behind him as they explore the house. 

It’s quiet. Too quiet. 

The floorboards creak underneath you and Aaron tells you he’s going to clear the back of the house while you take the front. Everyone calls a distinctive ‘clear’ and you’re about to breathe out of frustration and ask Aaron if they’ve found the girls at Scott’s trailer when you hear the faint sound of someone crying from behind you. 

You’re careful not to step too loudly despite the hardwood floors. Derek finds you and calls out your name but you put your finger to your lips and he silences himself. The sound of feet shuffling sounds incredibly quiet, but you swear you can hear footsteps somewhere behind you. 

Spencer and Aaron join the two of you after hearing silence despite calling your names. Derek tells both men to silence themselves as you walk about the room, unsure of what you’re looking for. For the most part, nothing looks out of place. That is, until your hand falls on a set of books that feels much too hollow to contain any pages. 

“What is it?” Derek asks from behind you.

“I don��t know…I think this is a false backing.” 

And you’re right. You pull the books to reveal a small hidden entryway that’s dark, and it looks like it doesn’t lead to anything. Aaron’s halfway through telling you to let another police officer look through the crawl space because you have to take off your vest and gun to fit, but you’re not hearing it. 

“Hotch, I’m the only one who’s small enough to fit through here,” you say. “I’m shorter than the rest of you and all of you are men. I don’t think Gracie or Olivia want to see someone who looks like their dad.”

“She’s right,” Spencer mumbles. You don’t wait for Aaron’s approval, venturing into the crawlspace. 

Gracie and Olivia are understandably scared until you tell them their mother’s waiting for them at the police station. You help them out of the small room they’ve been kept in and notice how relatively furnished it is–a mattress, blankets, pillows, and coloring material–and make note of how your profile was right. 

You don’t spare a glance at Aaron, too invested in making sure the children are safe with EMTs while they’re being checked for harm. Olivia asks you to stay with them and holds your hand, and you don’t bring yourself to leave them. When the EMTs let you know they aren’t injured and can visit the police station without going to the hospital, Aaron reluctantly lets you accompany both of them back to the precinct. 

It’s well after dark by the time both children leave with Jaqueline. JJ and Emily have worked out a deal with local police to keep them under surveillance and protection until Scott has been captured and are instructed not to let Logan near the three of them for the time being. 

You aren’t able to say goodbye to the three of them, instead recounting your story to the local detective who needs your statement for the paperwork while it’s fresh in your memory. You’re on a high after seeing the two girls reunite with their mother and the entire team congratulates you on a job well done when Aaron storms into the office, angry.

“Y/N, go back to the hotel.” 

Aaron stands tall, his hands on his hips and his mouth etched in an angry frown. His voice is low and you can’t believe the words you’re hearing. 

“To the hotel? Hotch, you can’t be serious.”

“You made a reckless decision to abandon your gun and vest. That could have gotten you killed,” Aaron says. “You are not capable of working under pressure.”

“You told the entire team to use our instincts and that’s exactly what I did. I saved two little girls, for God’s sake.”

“You are hot headed and have this overwhelming urge to prove yourself when nobody cares how well you perform,” Aaron says angrily. “The entire time you’ve been with the BAU, you’ve barely contributed aside from piggybacking off of someone else to reach a conclusion.”

That, you know, is a lie. Aaron just wants to hurt you.

“At this very moment, you are incompetent and can’t hold yourself together for the sake of the victims and their families.”

“We have to catch Scott.”

“You can’t do your job, go back to the hotel.” 

“That’s not fair.”

“I don’t have to be.”

“Hotch.”

“I want you gone, Y/N,” Aaron says firmly. “Go back to the hotel or hand in your badge.” 

Unbelievable. 

You don’t spare Aaron another glance. Your feet carry you out to the lobby and your breath is so uneven that you need to step aside into an empty interrogation room to calm yourself down. Your jaw clenches and you ball your fists to gather some sort of relief, but you don’t find it. Instead, your nails dig into your palm until it turns white and you let go, exiting the room without another word.

The keys to the SUV are still in your pocket. You don’t necessarily care that the team will have to squeeze into the remaining vehicles and you don’t care enough to let one of them know you’ve made it outside. 

Your hands shake when you reach into your pocket. The warmth of the metal is familiar and your hand pulls it out when a stray tear falls from your face and splashes onto your cheek. Hastily, you enter the car and slam the door shut and lock it when you feel yourself overcome with sadness and anxiety. 

The tears fall freely at this point and you bow your head to the steering wheel, your breaths hot and mouth wet from crying. The back of your sleeves are soaked as you try to wipe away your tears to no avail and your vision becomes too blurry to drive. 

You allow yourself a few minutes to cry. The sound of your gasps echo throughout the care and your shoulders feel heavy with every sob. The weight of the world is truly on your shoulders now and you aren’t sure if you have a job when you go back to Quantico. 

But you pull yourself together and drive back to the hotel. It feels much longer than it needs to be and you sit in the driver’s seat for a moment when you park the car. You hate that you feel incapable of being a member of the team without Aaron breathing down your neck. You hate that you can’t live up to his expectations and that you try to in the first place. Working at the BAU wasn’t supposed to be a nightmare. 

You exit the car and lock it behind you, another stray tear escaping. You feverishly rid yourself of the tear and walk to the entrance of the hotel when you feel someone grabbing you from behind and an acute sense of pain at the base of your neck. 

It’s black after that. 

Back in the station, the local police have distracted themselves with their case files and other happenings while the rest of the team looks at Aaron in shock. Spencer's looking at the empty space where you stood and Emily is looking at Aaron like he’s grown a second head. 

“Are you serious?” she begins. “Hotch, we need everyone on this. We need Y/N.”

“She’s too hot headed,” Aaron replies. 

“Oh yeah?” Derek chimes in. “And how about you?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“You know damn well that Y/N adds as much value to this team as the rest of her. Two years with the BAU and stellar reviews from the board has proven that. Why are you still treating her like a first-day agent?”

“Y/N needs to learn to let go of her ego,” Aaron retaliates. “I don’t need to explain myself to any of you.”

“You’re wrong about her not contributing anything,” Spencer says. It surprises Aaron to hear Reid defy him on your behalf. “For the cases that we’ve worked on with her, she’s been the one to take lead on the preliminary profiles for most of them. Some of our biggest leads have come from her.” 

Aaron breathes and doesn’t say a thing. He looks at his team and knows they don’t approve of his choice to send you back to the hotel, but he stands by it. David looks at him like he’s almost disappointed in him and JJ holds his stare. 

He knows why he’s being extra hard on you. He knows he’s pushing you to your limit by keeping you at arm’s length. Aaron doesn’t want to admit that he sees you as anything other than his subordinate and coworker, but he does. He doesn’t want to be the reason why you don’t advance within the bureau and why there might be a future workplace ban on relationships. Even if he disagrees with how you handled things tonight.

Aaron doesn’t communicate any of this with the team while he stares them down. Instead, he fixes his posture and clears his throat. 

“Get back to work.”

***

When you come to, you’re acutely aware of the handcuffs around your wrist. 

The air is cold and you realize you’re bound to a pole in a barn, and you’re not sure where you are. Everything is suddenly hazy and your vision blurs until you blink rapidly with the hope that you’ll regain full consciousness.

The first thing you can feel is a headache. Your head’s pounding viciously and you wince at the pain, inadvertently tugging in your wrist and against the handcuffs. The metal is cold and it sends a chill up your spine when you realize you’re alone. You try your best to recite what you can sense over and over again in your mind.

The air is cold. You’re sitting on a hard floor with straw and other debris around you. The air smells like manure and hay. You can hear crickets and wind blowing just outside of the barn, and you can see hardware tools towards the back of the building.

The influx of emotions that creep into your chest is enough to make any person an anxiety-ridden mess. Your heart feels like it’s going to lurch out of your chest with every second that passes by because your reality becomes more real; this isn’t a nightmare you’re desperately hoping to wake up from. 

“Look who’s awake.”

It’s Scott. 

He flickers the lights on and that’s when you realize he’s holding a gun. 

“You took quite a while to wake up, actually. I’ve been waiting here for two hours wondering when you’d return to the land of the living.”

Scott dons a smirk that you wish you could wipe off with both of your fists. His right hand grips the gun haphazardly and he waves it around as he gestures while speaking, and the fear of dying has finally crept into the forefront of your mind.

“Where are we?” you ask. 

“South of Los Angeles,” Scott replies. “Far enough that your little team won’t find this patch of land.”

“Why’s that?”

His smirk widens when you stay quiet.

“You know, Agent, I find you interesting.”

“There’s nothing remotely interesting about me,” you say. You try your best to remember the profile and give him what he wants. He hates authority and between the two of you, you legally have all of it. So, you downplay yourself, 

“I beg to differ,” he laughs. Scott takes a step towards you and you recoil. “I’ve been watching this investigation unfold because I need to keep tabs on what’s happening so that I don’t get caught. It’s worked so far, but you were just lucky to have found my little girls.” 

“We found them because you made a mistake,” you chide. “You slipped up.”

Scott’s smirk turns into anger, and he takes another step towards you. 

“I made a mistake because I wasn’t thinking far ahead, Agent.” 

He takes another step and he’s by your thigh. Scott bends down to your level and you’re aware of how close his gun is to your abdomen, and you pray that you don’t say the wrong thing.

“I wasn’t thinking far ahead because I couldn’t see the bigger picture. But it came to me a few nights ago when I realized that you and I are people that don’t naturally get to be in the spotlight.” 

Scott caresses your cheek and you shudder underneath his fingertips. He retracts and stands up, pacing back and forth in front of you. 

“See, you and I are people who don’t get enough credit for our work. All it took was one moment watching your horrendous boss dismiss you for your work. I knew you’d be the key in getting my girls back to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Scott leans forward. “You’re smart enough to figure it out.”

Unfortunately, it comes to you quickly.

The team had gathered around the house that Jaqueline and Scott had lived in when they were married. Penelope had clued the team in on this location. A new couple lived in that house with no connection to Jaqueline and Scott but you thought it was worth checking out.

Aaron disagreed. That house hadn’t been occupied by either of them for years since they got a divorce but your gut had been telling you to visit the property to look around for extra clues that might’ve turned up. Your insistence angered him, who accused you of disobeying orders, and it was David who had to intervene and remind Aaron never to leave any stone unturned.

Reluctantly, Aaron ordered the team to the house and you successfully convinced the new owners to let you look through their property with the promise that nothing would be disturbed. Two hours into searching and Aaron was ready to write your mishappenings in the file report when he returned to Quantico, but your sudden interest in the backyard piqued everyone’s interest.

You had discovered a well-hidden doorway to an underground room. The new family would’ve never seen it, as it was tucked away with roots and other invasive plants that covered the wooden doorway. When you and Morgan entered the space, it was clear that Scott had been there recently.

Unbeknownst to you, Scott has been hiding out a few houses down watching everything unfold, including the way Aaron distrusted your judgment. He’d been using that bunker as a living space, careful to work around the new family so as to not get caught. It was far enough that they couldn’t see him from where the windows were placed unless they were out in the backyard the same as he was.

“Remember now?” he asks.

You nod, complying. “You watched my boss reprimand me for wasting everyone’s time.”

He nods. “You and I are overworked and underappreciated. We don’t get credit or recognition even though we deserve it.”

“You knew we’d find Gracie and Olivia.”

Scott’s jaw locks but he agrees.

“I knew there was no way I’d be able to get to my girls in time to move them someplace else. So, I let you find them because I knew that I’d have no other chance to get them back if you arrested me.

“Then I followed you all the way back to the precinct so I could keep tabs on you and see where you were staying. It was just my luck that I happened to hear your boss yelling at you because of an open window. I knew my chance was when he ordered you to go back to the hotel.”

“How do I fit into all of this?” you ask.

“You, Agent, are going to help me get my kids back from Jaqueline and cover for me.”

“No chance in hell.” 

Scott doesn’t like that answer. He lunges towards you and tugs on your hair, enough to make your scalp feel like it’s being set on fire. 

“You don’t have a choice. I want my kids back and you aren’t in the position to make any demands.” 

He doesn’t say much after that. Scott looks into your eyes with a murderous expression before letting you go. Your head hits the pole behind you because he pushed you away with enough force that it makes you dizzy again.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Scott says from the barn’s entrance. “I need some sleep and so do you.”

He doesn’t uncuff you and you’re left wondering how you can sleep when you’re being held captive.

***

When the team leaves the precinct, everyone is too drained to continue talking about the case on the ride back. They’d only been there two hours after you left but Aaron gets the feeling that the rest of them aren’t happy with him dismissing you. 

The ride is silent and everyone retreats to their rooms respectively. He tries to forget the aching feeling in his chest and goes to sleep. 

He wakes up to a cold sweat. 

Aaron’s still not happy what perspired last night. He nearly made the choice to knock on your door and apologize for being harsh in front of the team and the local police, but he doesn’t. It’s better to put distance. It’s how he rationalizes how he’s treating you because he’ll fall apart if he imagines the consequences of being in a relationship with you. 

You’re the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up. He’s surprised he didn’t hear you knocking on his door to give him a piece of your mind, but he was too tired to consider that you didn’t. 

His clock reads six A.M. and he’s sure the rest of the team is waking up and heading to the police station like he is. Aaron feels more tired with each day passing and it feels like his body is on autopilot mode with how fast he’s able to change and get to the precinct. 

The team trickles in one by one and everyone makes their coffee before picking up where they left off last night. Penelope had sent the team a list of possible places that Scott might be and Aaron wants to cover as much ground as possible.

When he’s more awake, he mentally groups the team and the other police officers to search each property. 

He stops when he realizes you’re not in the precinct. 

At first, Aaron feels annoyed because he thinks you’re late. It isn’t completely out of character for you, as he’s watched you stumble into the office a few minutes before debriefing. Still, he prays that you’ll show up so everyone can move on with their day. 

But you don’t come in. Every person that walks through the door isn’t you and Aaron’s annoyance becomes a question of curiosity with fear at the end of it. 

“Where’s L/N?” Morgan asks from beside him. 

“Probably slept in,” JJ snorts. “She sleeps like a brick.” 

Everyone laughs at her comment in good fun because they know it’s true. You’re a heavy sleeper. But Aaron isn’t convinced. Something doesn’t feel right to him but he can’t quite place what it is. 

He gives it another ten minutes. Aaron’s bouncing from leg to leg, anticipating your arrival. He’s waiting for you to hastily apologize about not hearing your alarm and he’s waiting for you to jump right where you left off because of your tardiness.

But you never walk through the door.

“Something’s wrong,” Aaron mutters. Spencer nods at his disheveled expression from where he sits and Emily looks down at her phone.

“I know she’s a heavy sleeper but there’s no way she’d be twenty minutes late with the stakes this high,” Emily points out. 

JJ walks out of the room the BAU is occupying and inquires with everyone outside if they’ve seen you come in, but all of them say they haven’t seen you since last night. JJ walks back into the room with shaking hands and she’s almost reluctant to tell Aaron that nobody has seen you yet.

Emily tries to call your cell phone one more time with no luck. Aaron sends Derek to check on you at the hotel and doesn't bother to respect the speed limit on the ten minute drive to the hotel from the station. The receptionist is more than willing to give him a key to your room when you don’t answer your phone. 

When he walks in, he notices that you aren’t sleeping in the bed. Your room is clean. The bed is made and there’s no indication that you slept in it last night. Your go-bag is perched on the table and a few clothes are haphazardly thrown on the chair beside it. Nothing seems out of place. 

It’s when he walks back outside to return to the station that he hears a phone ringing from the bushes. Derek walks towards the sound and his breath catches in his throat when he realizes the phone is yours. He curses and picks up the phone to see Emily’s contact.

“L/N?”

“It’s me,” Derek says through your phone. “L/N’s not here and her phone was tossed in the bushes.” Metal catches Derek’s eye. “Wait a minute.” 

He walks forward with caution and his heart drops when he realizes it’s a discarded needle and your gun right next to it. 

“What is it?” Emily asks from the other line. She hears Derek sigh and she knows it can’t be good. 

“It’s a needle and her gun, Prentiss. L/N not showing up to the precinct and her belongings being discarded can’t be a coincidence.” 

From the police station, Emily panics. She hangs up when Derek lets her know he’s coming back and her panic rises when she sees her teammates looking at her quizzically. The lump in her throat grows when she realizes everyone is looking at her for an answer. 

“Did you find her?” JJ asks. Emily doesn’t speak for a second. 

“Morgan found her cell phone in the bushes by the front of the hotel,” Emily explains. “He also found a discarded needle...and her gun.” 

Aaron’s attention shifts from the file he’s holding to Emily, who’s fidgeting with her hands. 

“Her gun?” Dave asks for clarification. “Found outside of the hotel room?” 

Emily nods. “Morgan picked up L/N’s phone and said he found it tossed aside.”

“And none of us saw her when she left the precinct?”

Nobody says anything. 

“I think she’s been kidnapped,” Reid says abruptly. “None of us saw her when we got back to the hotel nor when we arrived at the precinct. Scott must know Y/N was the one who rescued his daughters and he’s either kidnapped her out of revenge or because he wants them back.”

Aaron doesn’t like that answer. 

His hands feel warm and his heart is racing too quickly for his liking. Aaron can feel his exterior start to wither away with the realization that you’ve been kidnapped and he doesn’t second guess himself when he calls Penelope and asks her to track Scott’s cell phone and to triangulate his last known location.

This is now a rescue mission and he hates that you’re the victim. 

The team doesn’t spare a second in finding a third location he could’ve taken you too. Penelope foregoes any of her other responsibilities to find you and Aaron can hear the frantic pace of her keyboard typing as she speaks. Derek and Spencer are visiting locations that hold significance to Scott in the event that he’s returned, but Aaron's doubtful that he’d make that mistake. 

It’s when JJ explains what’s happening to the lead detective does Aaron feel like his world is crumbling around him. He’s put himself at arm’s length so much as to push you away from him and right into the arms of the unsub, and he feels like he might pass out in the middle of the precinct. 

Emily and Dave pick up how quiet Aaron’s been ever since Penelope hung up. He’s too busy staring at the white board and it doesn’t help that your handwriting is all over it. Aaron’s throat is dry and he’s a second away from starting to blame himself for your disappearance, but he knows that he doesn’t have enough time to feel sorry for himself if he wants to find you.

When Derek comes back and tells the team there’s been no luck in finding you, Aaron’s heart sinks. He’s running out of options and he knows his head isn’t where it should be, but he can’t help it. Aaron does his best to keep himself composed when Spencer tries to piece together your timeline and he hates that they’re treating you like a abduction victim because you should be in this room with them. Instead, you’re God knows where and Aaron doesn’t bring himself to imagine that you might be dead already. 

It’s Spencer who makes the connection between you and his children. He theorizes that Scott must’ve been present when you had rescued the children and kidnapped you for one of two reasons: to exact revenge or to force you to help him get his children back. JJ suspects that it’s the latter because of your profile. Scott wants to get his children back and he’d do anything to do it. 

Dave wonders why Scott would risk kidnapping a federal agent and how he knew you’d be at the precinct or the hotel, and Spencer doesn’t hold his tongue when he said the only common link between the two of you is the way you’d both been treated by your superiors. 

The room goes quiet and Spencer thinks he’s overstepped, but he doesn’t regret his choice of words. 

Everyone looks at Aaron, who’s been silent the entire time. He thinks about how angry you were last night and how he convinced himself he didn’t see you shed a tear as you passed him. The guilt of sending you home and not checking in on you when he got back to the hotel is eating him alive because you’ve been missing for twelve hours and nobody knew about it. 

“Reid’s right,” Aaron says. He feels his voice start to break. “We know why he’s taken L/N but now we need to understand how he’s going to use her in order to get his children back.” 

Aaron’s phone rings and he’s grateful for the distraction. Penelope informs them of a house that was paid in all cash and purchased under a false identity a few months ago, and confirms that it was Scott who paid for the property after speaking with the realtor and showing her a photo. Aaron wastes no time ordering the team to head to the house and he feels like he’s running out of time when Penelope says the property is seventy miles from the precinct. 

The ride to the property is agonizing. Aaron’s grip on the steering wheel is lethal and he’s swerving between every car with the hopes that he’ll reach you in time. Emily’s sitting in the passenger seat and she knows there’s nothing either of them can do except hope that you’re alive and well.

“We’ll find her,” she says after a long period of silence. “You know L/N. She’s strong and won’t go down without a fight.”

Aaron hesitates to speak. He gulps and he feels like his mouth is far too dry to hold a decent conversation because while he knows that Emily’s right, he can’t help but feel utterly hopeless on the freeway while you’re being held hostage by Scott. 

“I shouldn’t have told her to go to the hotel,” Aaron says. “I should’ve left it at reprimanding her for going in alone. We could’ve avoided all of this.”

“You of all people know you couldn’t have predicted that Scott would’ve done,” Emily said. “It wasn’t in the profile. Neither of us could’ve predicted that he’d kidnap L/N.”

“I know.” Aaron signals and passes three cars who are driving far too slow for his liking. 

He’s silent again, which doesn’t surprise Emily. Aaron sits in the driver’s seat, a million thoughts racing to the front of his head but he can’t seem to choose the right words to speak. He knows how unfair he’s been to you and all the anger and frustration about not being able to be with you has transpired into this mess he’s found himself in. He should’ve never let his feelings get to this point nor let his frustration shift from the forbidden relationship onto you. 

“I’ve been unfair to her,” Aaron croaks. He hears the crack in his voice as it starts to falter, but he keeps talking because he thinks he might go insane if they sit in any more silence. “I’ve pushed her aside and made her second guess herself as an agent of this team all because I couldn’t keep my feelings in check.” 

“What do you mean?” Emily asks. Aaron sighs and he grips his steering wheel, embarrassed that he’s been an unfair leader and that he’s admitting it to one of his colleagues. 

“L/N is an exceptional agent and it’s no wonder why I fell for her.” 

Emily’s quiet and Aaron’s sure he’s made a mistake by confessing that to her. He wishes he could take it back and lie instead of being honest with his friend, but he can’t take back the words he’s said. And he stands by it. 

“I’ve been so busy trying to pretend like I don’t have feelings for her but every day I’m scared that something like this could happen to her. I hate it when she’s reckless and disobeys orders because I’m afraid that it’ll get her killed.

“I know what it looks like on the outside to see me and my subordinate in a romantic relationship. She’s young, career-driven, and I’d hate to stand in the way of whatever’s next for her. I don’t know how to act around her and I thought that pushing all of this down would help me lose feelings for her, but I haven’t.”

“You sound like a teenager,” Emily says. It shocks him and when he looks at her quizzically, Emily chuckles. “What, you think I couldn't see how hopeless you were when it came to L/N? Hotch, you’re like a kid in a candy store when she’s around. The rest of us were ready to start placing bets on you two until you started giving her the short end of the stick.”

He feels awful. Aaron’s guilt causes him to flex and rev the engine. 

“I never meant to hurt her,” he confesses. “But that doesn’t matter now.”

“What matters is that we’re on our way to rescue her and there’s nowhere else she could be,” Emily reassures. “Scott wants his kids back and he knows they’re in LA county. There’s no way he would risk taking her somewhere else when he doesn’t have Gracie and Olivia.” 

“Right,” Aaron says, clearing his throat. Neither he nor Emily need to chide him for how he’s been treating you. He knows he’s wrong and Emily knows it too. 

“L/N is the strongest out of all of us. She’ll make it through this.”

Aaron has a sneaking suspicion that Emily’s trying to convince herself, but he doesn’t say anything. 

When the team reaches the property, it’s notably quiet. The next neighbor is two miles down the road and Derek’s ready to search the house when Aaron steps out of his vehicle. 

“More backup’s two minutes out,” Aaron explains, “but we’ve got enough people to start the search. Reid and JJ, check the backyard. Prentiss and Rossi, check the house. Morgan, you’re with me. We’re checking the garage.” 

Aaron orders the police officers to check elsewhere before he and Morgan make their way to the garage. With his gun and flashlight in his hands, he approaches the enclosed space with caution and his heart spikes with anxiety. Before he can think about the worst that could happen, two police officers manage to open the garage door as he and Derek search the place. 

It’s empty. 

Aaron curses under his breath as they check the confined space but find nothing out of the ordinary. The rest of the team relates the same information and Aaron feels like he’s losing hope because he doesn't know where else you could possibly be. 

“Guys, there’s a barn across the landing,” comes JJ’s voice from the communications line. “There’s a truck parked outside and I’m willing to bet it’s Scott’s.”

Aaron’s heart stops beating for a moment. 

“We need to search that barn,” Aaron commands. “Everyone pull your resources and let’s head out.” 

It feels like slow motion to him, the way he diverts his attention to the barn that JJ pointed out. He feels like he’s watching the scene unfold in front of him from another person’s perspective and desperately prays that you’re in there, safe and alive. The grip on his gun is falling from how his hands are trembling but he reminds himself that he has a job to do. 

Dave touches the hood of the car and says it’s warm, which means Scott is most likely inside of the barn. The lead detective is ordering his team to secure the back entrance and surround the building so that Scott has no place to run and Aaron instructs his team to do the same at the front. Under hushed voices, he can almost make out the faint scout of scuffling coming from behind the large wooden doors and feels his throat close. 

Then he hears a gunshot. 

Everyone rushes inside and he’s overcome with dread when he walks inside. Aaron’s heart is racing; he can feel the grip of his gun slipping because of how unsteady his hands are and he’s nearly tripping from all the hay that he’s stepping on. He fears the worst when he enters and does his best to prepare himself to see your lifeless body.

But you’re laying on your stomach with a gun in your hands. 

You don’t process the ringing in your ears until Aaron moves beside you to reach for the gun in your hands. He’s tossed it aside and maneuvers you to check for any injuries. Aaron glances at your face and notices a deep bruise forming on your left temple with scratches and smaller bruises adorning your face, and he hates it. 

He hates that your body and face is covered in Scott’s blood. He hates that your hands are still shaking with fear. He hates that there’s nothing he can say or do that will make everything better for you. 

The shirt you’re wearing is covered in Scott’s blood spatter and you’re barely able to process that you’ve most likely broken a few ribs. You don’t say anything. The overwhelming urge to cry resurfaces and this time, you don’t stop yourself. 

Aaron catches you before you hit your head onto the ground and moves his body to sit behind you. You’re stationed between his legs, your back pressed against his chest as you slump over and grab his arm for support as your tears wet his dress shirt. Aaron foregoes all standard procedure and lets you cry in his arms instead of calling for the EMT to whisk you away from the hospital. 

You don’t care that your cries are almost louder than the ambulance sirens. Your adrenaline makes the blood pump loudly in your ears and you grip onto Aaron like you’re afraid Scott will come back to life and kill you if you let go. 

His free arm is secured around you. Aaron’s eyes become glossy as each second passes by and his heart breaks in two when he hears your continual cries.

“You did so good,” Aaron whispers. “So good. You’re safe now.” 

Aaron doesn’t let the EMT get close to you when you’re trembling in his arms. He tells them to wait a moment and they try to argue with him, but they relent when they see Aaron’s stern expression. His voice cracks when he tries to speak upon hearing your soft whimpers. Your eyes are screwed shut and Aaron strokes your hair as you bury yourself further deeper into him.

Dave and Spencer canvas the scene and look around for anything out of the ordinary to report. Derek's speaking with the EMTs while JJ and Emily are patiently waiting with blankets and bottles of water for you. But you don’t get up. Your legs feel numb from sitting down and Aaron’s grip on you is so tight that you feel like you’ll fall back down if you try to stand up.

Your sobs have turned quiet and you almost feel like you’re at peace. But then you remember your bruises and the blood still on your body. You remember Scott’s body and find yourself crying even harder.

“Let’s get you to a hospital,” Aaron says in your ear. “We can get you cleaned up and on your way home. Does that sound good?”

His voice is like honey. Sweet.

You nod and you try your best to sit up to no avail. Aaron tries to help you up and the EMTs catch you before you can fall back onto the ground. He reluctantly lets the EMTs take you to the ambulance where JJ and Emily are waiting. He watches as they drape a blanket over you and as you’re wheeled up into the vehicle. Emily offers to follow you to the hospital and JJ steps away, letting the ambulance drive off.

Aaron doesn’t process anything. He doesn’t hear the sirens, the police chatter, or Dave approach him with a concerned look.

“She’s gonna be okay, Aaron.”

Dave’s voice is nothing but a hollow shell to Aaron. It feels like an empty promise even though he knows you’re going to make it out alive. Still, Aaron doesn’t say a word.

“Let’s go meet her at the hospital.”

***

The doctor explains that you’ve suffered a concussion, a couple of bruised ribs, a broken arm, and a grazed bullet wound. You’ll be relatively fine, but Aaron’s heart is racing and can't get past seeing you covered in blood to pay attention to anything the doctor is saying. He hasn’t had time to beat himself up for sending you back to the hotel without accompaniment and he hates that the guilt is crashing in on him when you need him the most.

Aaron looks down at his sleeves and they’re covered in blood, dirt, and your mascara. He stares down in shock and his mind flashes to the barn, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s ever seen you cry before. It breaks him.

The doctor explains that they needed to sedate you because of your sudden adrenaline rush. Your shock had caused you to lash out when a nurse had grabbed your wrist, and through your clouded judgment, you’d swung at him with all of your might. Your fretful apologies made you uncontrollably sob afterwards and the nurse could only look at you with sympathy. 

Two hours later, the team was still waiting in the waiting room. Under the guise of wanting to get you something to eat other than stale hospital food, Aaron leaves to buy you a meal. But he needs to get ou and get fresh air before he suffocates. 

Aaron’s guilt eats him alive. He walks aimlessly towards a deli and scolds himself over and over again for making you drive to the hotel unsupervised. In hindsight, Aaron knows his personal feelings came into play when he berated you for your recklessness. He knows he was unfair to you because he would’ve done the same thing if he were in your position.

When he returns, Dave’s looking at him like he knows what he’s thinking, but doesn’t say anything. Aaron appreciates his friend’s concern but the guilt doesn’t relent. He fidgets in his seat and tries to calm his spiking anxiety but nothing seems to work. His mind retracts to the moment he found you covered in Scott’s blood and your cries are enough to make Aaron feel like he might shed a tear in front of his teammates.

His thoughts are disrupted when he sees your doctor approach the group. 

“She’s a little out of it,” says the doctor, “but she’s conscious. You’re all welcome to say hello, but only for a few minutes.” 

When the doctor directs the team to your room, she explains what happened after you reached the hospital. Aaron can’t process anything she’s saying. His ears are ringing and he feels like everyone around him is talking too loudly for him to be able to hear anything the doctor is saying. All he can pick up is “dehydrated” and “concussed.” 

Everyone hastily walks to the room you’re in. JJ files into the room first. It takes Aaron a few breaths to find the courage to step inside of the room and he’s sure Emily’s the one who helped him take the first step.

“What’s the prognosis?” your croaked voice asks. JJ sniffles and laughs at the same time, and the rest of the group watch you try to prop yourself up.

“How you’re able to joke at a time like this is beyond me,” JJ gushes. She takes a pillow from the bed and helps you sit up.

“What, a few broken ribs and a concussion? I’m lucky the bullet only grazed me.”

Nobody laughs but you can tell they’re trying their best.

Aaron towers over everybody easily and he’s in between trying to catch your gaze and trying to avoid it. Emily hands you the sandwich from the local deli and you waste no time, opening the wrapper and letting the aioli slide down the side of your mouth.

It’s easily the most adorable and most heartbreaking thing Aaron has ever seen.

“Slow down, Tiger,” says Derek. He grabs a nearby napkin and wipes the sauce away while you smile sheepishly.

“Sorry,” you mutter, taking slower bites. Spencer’s next to hug you and you welcome the way he refuses to let you go.

Everyone looks at you under the harsh lights of the hospital room and you feel like you’re being observed. The sedative you’d been given is enough to make you feel somewhat normal because no matter how hard you try to panic over the last few hours, you can’t. 

You feel like you’re numb to your experiences and the pain Scott inflicted. Staring at your team feels eerily normal and you almost forget that you’re sitting in a hospital gown with enough injuries to put you out of the field for a few months. 

“You broke my heart, kiddo,” Dave chimes in. He grabs your free hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, accompanied by a kiss to the back of your hand. JJ pulls you into a mother-like embrace, kissing the crown of your head. You lean into her touch and Aaron wishes he were the one comforting you.

“I feel like shit,” you confess. “I woke up feeling groggy and I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

“We’re so glad you’re okay, Y/N,” Emily says. 

“Thanks, Em,” you say. You take another bite. “This sandwich is good.”

“Aaron bought it,” Emily speaks.

You look at him. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged his presence since he walked into the room.

“Thanks,” you mumble behind the sandwich. “I could eat five of these.” 

“I don’t want to deal with you puking on us,” Spencer jokes, and it makes you feel somewhat normal.

You don’t like feeling as though you’re a delicate piece of glass that’s close to being dropped. You hate feeling useless and pitied. Everyone’s looking at you with sad eyes and it makes you feel like you’ve let your colleagues down, even though you know there’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent what transpired.

“I’m really sleepy,” you say, haphazardly throwing the wrapper on the table next to you. It isn’t a lie, but you say it with the hopes of being alone.

“We’ll be back in the morning,” JJ says. She looks at the clock in front of her and doesn’t realize that it’s four in the morning. You squeeze her hand when her eyes well up. JJ wipes her eyes and blinks her tears back and you lean against her side.

Aaron can’t help but stare. You look so vulnerable at this moment and you’re doing your best to keep yourself awake, but the sedatives are making you drowsy. The team says their goodbyes and reluctantly trek back to the hotel, but Aaron can’t bring himself to walk into the building once he’s parked.

“Get changed,” Dave says after a brief moment of silence. Aaron looks at him in confusion. “Take a shower, eat something from the vending machine, and go back to the hospital.”

“She doesn't want me there,” he says slowly. 

“She’s asleep,” Dave dismisses. “She’s not going to know you’re there and I’m sure she’ll want to see a familiar face when she wakes up.”

“I’m not sure I’m the person she wants to see.”

“You were the first person she reached for when we entered the barn,” Dave explains, “and I know you won’t be sleeping a wink tonight unless you’re by L/N’s side. Go get changed and get back to the hospital, Aaron.”

“I just–”

“I know you feel guilty. Whatever feelings you have towards her never went away and that’s why you’ve been so hard on her.” Aaron’s not surprised that he’s picked up on this habit. “I don’t have to agree with how you handled it, but what matters is that she’s alive and she’s resting. We got her back, Aaron. She’s here and Scott isn’t.” 

Aaron knows Dave is right. He thanks him for being a good friend and trudges back into his hotel room, hastily freshening himself up before returning back to the hospital.

***

You wake up later in the morning with little to no recollection of how you got there. You feel extremely out of it, like someone removed a ton of bricks from your chest after keeping it there for a fortnight. You look to your left and see a window that shows you a gloomy D.C. morning. You look to your right and see Aaron Hotchner slumped over in a seat, asleep. 

This wakes you up. You’re blinking the sleep out of your eyes when you realize he’s snoring. It’s soft and unassuming, but you don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen him sleep. 

The chairs must be uncomfortable, too. You do your best to sit up—which is when you notice the sling on your arm—and manage to prop yourself up on the pillows until you’re sitting upright. Aaron stirs in his sleep at the sound but he’s still asleep.

You’re not close enough to reach him and wake him up. You aren’t sure that you want to either, for the fear that he might start telling you a laundry list of all the things you did wrong throughout the case. 

The doctor from last night walks in and knocks on your door, which shifts your focus. Aaron’s still asleep and the doctor, who reintroduces herself as Dr. Aguta, gently walks around Aaron and to your bedside.

“How are you feeling?” she asks you while holding a clipboard. You notice her colorful print skirt first and it’s a contrast to how grey it is outside. 

“My head hurts,” you say with a croak. It’s the first thing you’ve said since you woke up. “And I realized my arm’s broken. But other than that, I feel fine.” 

Dr. Aguta gives you a pleasant smile. “I’m glad to hear that you’re doing okay. The sedatives we gave you last night seemed to help ease your pain, though I’ll be giving you a prescription for the rest of the month when it wears off.”

She hesitated before speaking again.

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

Unfortunately, you do. You remember Scott, the gun, and Aaron coaxing you to go with the EMTs. It’s mostly a blur and you can’t remember the details but you remember enough. The softened expression is a dead giveaway and Dr. Aguta doesn’t press any further.

She sees your gaze shift to Aaron, who still hasn’t woken up.

“He came last night and insisted on staying with you,” Dr. Aguta informs. “Typically I’d only let immediate family stay overnight, but your boss seemed extremely worried about you.” 

“He did?” you ask. It’s news to you.

She nods. “When I saw him for the first time last night, I could tell he’s a man of few words and the leader of your team. But last night he was a stuttering mess and I let him stay overnight with the condition that he doesn’t wake you.”

You don’t say anything. Aaron’s mouth is partly ajar and you know he’s going to wake up with a lot of back pain from how he’s positioned. Dr. Aguta performs a routine check up on you and lets you know that you’ll be discharged from the hospital the following day. You thank her profusely and she can only give you a reassuring smile. You ask her to wake Aaron up for you just before she leaves.

Aaron blinks and remembers he’s not in the hotel. Dr. Aguta excuses herself to give the both of you privacy and he sits upright, stretching his back unpleasantly. 

“Morning,” he says, clearing this throat. “How do you feel?”

You’re getting tired of answering this question but you humor him.

“Better,” you say honestly. “Aside from my broken arm and concussion.” Aaron’s gaze shifts to your arm and he almost winces.

“Did you sleep well?” 

“For the most part, but I think the sedatives had more to do with it than anything.”

“Good, I’m glad.” 

An awkward silence falls over the both of you. Aaron desperately tried to pull himself together by waking himself up and you’re fiddling with your hands. You noticed he’s changed since you saw him last night, now in slacks and a quarter zip, and you don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen him look so casual.

Aaron’s trying to think of the right words to say. As your boss, he wants to tell you that none of this was your fault and there’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent it from happening. He wants to tell you he shouldn’t have ordered you back to the hotel, not without anyone accompanying you.

But as someone who has deep feelings for you, Aaron wants to say he was scared to death and thought he might lose another person he cares for. His anxiety skyrocketed through the roof when he saw what you had done to Scott and he wishes that you didn’t have to work through this trauma.

But he doesn’t say anything. You watch as he swallows and you know his brain is working overtime by how often he pulls his eyebrows together. You don’t have it in you to be angry at him like you were the night he sent you away. The sedatives, along with your exhaustion, leaves little room for anger. 

“I’m getting hungry,” you say to break the silence. 

“I can get something from the cafeteria,” he offers immediately, touching his pocket to make sure his wallet didn’t fall out. 

“That would be nice.” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t touched by the offer.

Aaron leaves for a short while and you try your best to process what just happened. He chose to stay with you overnight. He offered to buy you breakfast. You didn’t think Aaron would care for you like that.

He comes back a while later and apologizes for both the sandwich (that looks haphazardly made) and the time it took, as there was a long line. You thank him politely and eat the meal, and you’re grateful that you have anything to eat at all.

Aaron watches you and feels like he’s invading your personal time. He bought himself a fruit cup, knowing Dave would reprimand him for not eating if he were able to buy something. 

“I shouldn’t have told you to go back,” Aaron says softly. You almost didn’t hear him say it. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. I did the wrong thing and it got you kidnapped.”

You don’t tell him that it’s okay, because quite frankly he’s right. He shouldn’t have sent you home, but you know it’s not his fault that you were abducted. 

“It’s not your fault that Scott took me,” you say matter-of-factly. Aaron can sense what you’re trying to say and his eyes hang in shame. “But I’m alive. I’m going to have one hell of a transition back to work, but I’m alive. I’m here. That is, if I still have my job.”

Aaron’s eyes snap to you.

“The job is yours for however long you want it,” he says immediately, and he means it. “What you did was reckless but I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing.”

This makes you smile a little and Aaron soars when he sees it. 

“I didn’t mean what I said back at the precinct either, Y/N. You’re a fantastic agent and we’re lucky to have you.”

There are a million things you want to ask him. Why have you been second guessing me? Is my work not satisfactory enough? Why did you stay in the hospital with me? 

But you don’t. There are too many things you want to say to Aaron that it ends up turning into a frustrating mess every time you think of the right question to ask. Aaron doesn’t seem to notice your lack of conversation. Or if he does, you think he’s trying to fill the awkward silence like you are.

“I don’t mean to be a burden,” is what you settle on. “I don’t purposely challenge your authority or how the team operates. I know I haven’t been here as long as everyone else but I like to think I make enough contributions.”

“You do,” Aaron says. “You aren’t a burden.”

You don’t believe him. “I just…lately I feel like I've been getting in the way of things.”

“You haven’t.” Aaron means that honestly but you don’t pick up on it. “You’ve shown immense critical thinking and problem solving skills. This case alone has proven that.”

You don’t disagree with him, but your mind reverts back to Scott and you start to deflate. 

Aaron knows he needs to apologize for how he’s been acting towards you. The abduction and his guilt is eating him alive and it forced him to be truthful with himself about how harsh he’s been treating you upon realizing he likes you more than a colleague should. But he doesn’t know whether this moment is appropriate or not. Ever the professional.

Both of you are saved by Dave showing up unannounced. He’s dressed casually too, with jeans and a sweater for an unusually cloudy day in Southern California. His knocking brings both you and Aaron out of your heads.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dave laments. He enters the room after you beckon him in and gives you a gentle hug on the side that doesn’t have your sling. “I won’t ask how you’re feeling because I’m sure you’re tired of that.”

“Thank you.”

“But I did want to check up on you,” Dave continues. “The rest of the team are slowly waking up, I imagine.” He turns to Aaron. “I assume we’re grounded here until Y/N can fly back.”

“That’s right,” Aaron says. “Tell the team they have the rest of the week off. I don’t think Strauss wants us spending more of our budget on flights.”

“Already done,” Dave says with a smile. “You had us worried for a while there.” 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, even though you know you have nothing to be sorry for. “I didn’t mean to make any of you worry about me.”

“We always worry about you, kid. It’s our job.”

“Are the girls okay?” you ask him. 

“Safe and sound. That’s actually why I came to visit, other than to check up on you.” 

You blink out of confusion.

“Jaqueline called the precinct and asked to speak with you,” Dave explains. “Long story short, she got in contact with me and wanted to know if you’d be willing to speak with her. She wants to thank you in person.”

The thought never crossed your mind. Saving her children had always been your first priority, even when Scott threatened to kill you if you didn’t help him. You’re not a mother by any means, but Jaqueline is around your age and you have plenty of nieces and nephews to get an understanding of how difficult this whole ordeal was for her.

And if you were being honest with yourself, you wanted to make sure Jaqueline would be okay. 

“Absolutely,” you say immediately. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” Aaron asks. “You just got to the hospital.”

“I’m sure,” you confirm, turning your attention back to Dave. “They can come visit me here if they’re willing to. I don’t think I have it in me to go to the precinct.”

“Of course,” Dave says with a small grin. It’s almost like he knows this will heal the both of you. He leaves the room and tells you he’ll be back later this afternoon.

Aaron sits in silence and he’s in awe of your resilience. He’s sure it’s the shock and sedatives talking, but he’s always known you to be someone who puts other people first. 

“I should call Strauss and let her know the situation,” Aaron says. “I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, and you’re strangely reluctant to let him go. But you do anyway and he walks out of the hospital room, leaving you with your thoughts. 

***

Dave lets you know Jaqueline is here with the girls a few hours later. 

“Agent Y/L/N?” a voice says from beside you. The young mother knocks on the door as two children hide behind her legs. You beckon them inside, with Aaron and Emily supervising from beyond the threshold.

“Jaqueline,” you say, propping yourself up to seem more presentable. “Hi. It’s great to see you.” 

“I’m sorry for barging in like this,” she apologizes, but you’re already waving her off when you see the two children emerge from behind her. “I wanted to thank you in person. For saving my kids.”

“It’s no problem,” you downplay. 

But Jaqueline shakes her head and rushes to grab your hand. She pulls away when she thinks she’s crossed a line, but your grip is devastatingly tight when you squeeze hers. Jaqueline looks at you and tears slip from her eyes, and her children hug her legs like they know something’s wrong.

Jacqueline composes herself and brings Gracie and Olivia in front of her, who each have hand-decorated thank you cards made of colorful cardstock paper, stickers, and glitter. Your heart swells at the gesture and you will yourself not to alarm the family in front of you with your tears, so you promise yourself you’d cry when they leave.

“Hi, Munchkins,” you greet. “What’s all this?”

The girls shyly give you the cards, the eldest taking initiative to put them in your hands.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Mommy says you were very brave and saved us.”

“We drew these last night!” the younger one exclaims. “Mommy let us stay up late because we couldn’t sleep, so we made these for you.”

“They’re beautiful,” you compliment, looking at the colors below you. Jaqueline hasn’t let go of your hand. “You girls are very talented.”

“Thank you,” the young one says bashfully. “I hope you get better soon.”

Your heart swells and Jacqueline squeezes your hand again before letting go. You watch her lips flutter and as her children become preoccupied with their dresses, Jaqueline surprises you again.

“Would it be alright if I called you from time to time?” she asks. “To let you know how we’re doing. That we’re okay.” You reach for her one more time.

“I’d love that,” you say honestly.

Jaqueline doesn’t say another word, but the look of gratitude and her quivering lips is enough to make all the hurt from the past few days disappear.

You watch as they leave the room and as the young girls save goodbye. David escorts them to the front of the hospital, which leaves Aaron awkwardly standing in the threshold with his body leaning against the doorframe.

Aaron watches you. Your eyes glaze over and the cards in your hand are slipping through your fingertips, and your lips move as if you’re trying to find the right words to say. But nothing comes out. Aaron listens as your breathing becomes shallow and watches a stray tear slip from the corner of your eyes.

Before he can think, he rushes by your side and envelopes you in his arms.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, somewhere between wanting to give you enough space and wanting to pull you against him. Your fingers are tight on his forearms when he hears your labored breathing become erratic and as your tears soak the fabric of his t-shirt.

Aaron takes the liberty of moving you in front of him, his back against the pillows you were sleeping on. He looks at your frail body in front of him; you always carry yourself as a strong-willed, independent agent on the field, and now he sees that he mistook your brazen character as recklessness when it was false bravado.

His heart aches when your grip on him tightens. Aaron reaches out to move the cards to the side table and pulls you against his chest, thankful that this bed is barely enough to fit the both of you. Aaron notices your craned neck, bringing the hand that isn’t wrapped around your frail figure to your head and gently moves your head to his chest.

Your soft whimpers are enough to make Aaron’s heart break all over again.

“You’re an amazing person,” Aaron says. “You are selfless, caring, and generous.” His words compel you to cry even harder and Aaron lets you weep in his arms until your eyes are dry and you’re hiccuping. 

Aaron doesn’t let you, not for a second, feel embarrassed about breaking down in front of him. His thumbs are drawing soothing circles on your arm and he’s wiping away your tears with a tissue, allowing you to unravel before him. 

Your dry heaving doesn’t bother Aaron, but he coos into your ear and tells you he’s going to get you a bottle of water when you grip his arm. He pries your fingers off of him and melts when you snuggle your head closer to him, but he knows you’re thirsty and the best thing he can do for you is keep you healthy. 

“I’ll be back in two minutes,” he promises. “I’m all yours after that.” 

You nod reluctantly and let him go. The bed feels empty when he leaves and you feel pathetic for hanging onto him like he’s your lifeline, but you don’t care. You just want to be held.

True to his word, Aaron comes back a few minutes later and uncaps the bottle for you. A soft ‘up’ utters from his lips and you sit up straight. He brings the bottle to your lips and tilts your head back enough to let the water slide down your throat. 

Aaron puts it aside when you’ve signaled that you’re done and slides into the spot next to you once again. He puts his arm around your shoulder and brings you to his chest again. 

You don’t tell him, but you feel his heartbeat. It’s irrationally fast and you don’t know what to make of it. You tighten your hold on him as you start to fall asleep and you miss the way Aaron rocks you to sleep. 

***

When it’s time for your discharge, you’re feeling better than you did a few days ago. The team welcomes you back on board once you’ve been cleared to fly and it feels like nothing’s out of place. 

JJ bought a bunch of pastries from a local cafe and everyone (save for Aaron because he was with you the entire time) has written little messages on a decorated card. It’s Spencer who frets over you the most, bringing you cups of tea and asking if there’s anything he can do to ease your pain. You’re quite touched. 

You know you’re in no shape to drive home when you land. Your dominant hand is broken and your car sits in its designated spot, no doubt gathering dust and debris. The team is tired from the trip and everyone checks in on you one by one before leaving, and you don’t know how you’ll get home until you realize your car keys are still in your desk drawer.

Aaron watches you for a moment. He notices your apprehensiveness and the way you look at your car keys, and he puts two and two together. Before he can register what he’s doing, Aaron’s making his way to you and offering to drive you. You start to tell him you don’t need a chauffeur and that he should go home instead, but he’s more worried that you might hurt yourself inadvertently. He persists and you reluctantly say yes because you know he’s right. You could barely open the door to the building, let alone drive home. 

The car ride to your apartment is quiet, save for the sounds of cars passing by on the freeway and the sound of gravel underneath the tires. You look up at your apartment complex when you tell Aaron the code to get into your garage and he parks in the visor spot after you’ve directed him.

The sling on your arm is a nuisance and you already can’t wait to get it off. You’re able to unbuckle yourself with your free hand and you’re surprised that Aaron opens the door for you.

“Thanks,” you mumble. 

“It’s not a problem.” You can tell he means it.

When you get to your apartment, you’re somewhat surprised that you haven’t lost your keys. You struggle to put them into the lock correctly with your non-dominant hand and Aaron can see the quirk of your eyebrow and how you’ve bit your lip out of frustration.

He fears he’s overstepping. He takes the keys out of your hands gently and opens the door for you anyhow. 

When you walk inside, you don’t think you've ever felt happier to see your small one bedroom apartment. Aaron sets your go-bag on the kitchen counter and you stand still for what seems like an eternity until he brings you out of your haze and encourages you to change out of your clothes and take a shower. 

But you don’t move. You stand in the middle of your living room and stare blankly out of your window, unable to appreciate the breathtaking view of D.C. like you always do. Your throat feels dry and your feet feel like they’re permanently planted on the hardwood floor beneath you.

Aaron comes to stand beside you and he leaves distance between the both of you. He looks at the sight before him and makes a comment about how he’s jealous of your view, but not even that gets a reaction out of you.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you mumble after a long pause. “I-I can’t be by myself right now.”

Aaron knows Jack is at sleepaway camp for a school trip and doesn’t get back for another few days. He doesn’t have to think about keeping you company so you don’t feel alone.

“I can stay with you,” he offers. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You turn to look at him and the offer is enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

Aaron sounds so soft, caring, and unlike himself. Your heart tugs at his caring nature and you’re overwhelmed with the notion that he’s caring for you like he cares for your colleagues.

“Please,” you croak.

Aaron nods. He puts his hands on your arms and ushers you into the hallway and you point him in the direction of your bedroom. He’s acutely aware that this is the first time he’s ever been in your apartment, let alone in the room you sleep in, and tries not to dwell on it for your sake. 

“You should take a shower and sleep,” Aaron suggests. “It’ll help clear your head.”

You follow Aaron’s lead. He guides you to your dresser and you grab an extra change of clothes and he accompanies you to the bathroom next door. 

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?” he says. “Don’t be afraid to get me.”

“Okay,” you say meekly. Your voice is far too dry to speak normally.

Aaron closes the bathroom door and you avoid looking at yourself in the mirror. You’re sure you look like a mess, despite being taken care of in the hospital back in Los Angeles. But you feel sticky from the flight and the sudden change in temperature, and you want nothing more than to cleanse yourself of the memories from LA.

You remove the sling from your arm and try your hardest to take your clothes off but you find it exceptionally difficult with your arm being in a brace. It hurts to lift your arm and you nearly cry out of frustration and exhaustion when you realize you can’t take your shirt off by yourself.

Embarrassed, you contemplate on showering with your clothes on, but ultimately know you’d need to take them off anyway. You open the door and call for Aaron, and you hear his steps as soon as you do.

“Are you okay?” he asks when he realizes you’re still in your clothes.

“I can’t, um, take my clothes off,” you say, clearing your throat. “I can’t bend my right arm and my left one is extremely sore. I can’t take my fucking clothes off.”

Aaron isn’t offended by your defensiveness. He gathers that it’s your coping mechanism because you feel embarrassed, but Aaron doesn’t care. He doesn’t say anything but he nods like he knows what you’re going through and you have a suspicion that he might.

“I’ll close my eyes and take your clothes off for you,” Aaron says. He says it in a way that’s so sincere but it still makes your cheeks redden at the innuendo. Aaron tries to ignore it because he feels a blush coming.

“It’s so pathetic that I can’t do this by myself.”

“It’s not pathetic,” he reassures. “You have a broken arm and your body’s still in pain. Let me help you.” 

You don’t say anything and Aaron takes it as a cue to move closer. True to his word, he puts his arms on your waist and turns his head away from you, careful to not hurt your broken arm. He maneuvers the fabric until it’s free from your body and he’s acutely aware that he’ll need to touch you in order to take the rest of your clothes off.

Aaron’s surprised when you move his hand to the button of your slacks. He clears his throat while you look up at the ceiling and bite your lip, pretending that the situation you’re in is completely normal to keep yourself from blushing too much. Aaron’s fingers work on the button and he’s careful not to put his hands where it’s inappropriate. He almost laughs at the thought, considering he’s your boss and he’s helping you take off your clothes.

You shimmy out of your slacks as Aaron slides it down your legs. He blushes at the thought of what’s to come next and swallows hard. Aaron returns to his stance and finds his neck is sore from craning, so he keeps his eyes closed and faces you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again. “I-I don’t think I can unclasp my bra.” 

You wince at your words, but it’s true. You tried to reach behind you when Aaron worked on taking off your pants, but the ache in your shoulder was too much. 

Aaron doesn’t say anything and you’re afraid that he might leave you. He’s so quiet that you can barely hear his breathing and you look at his closed eyes and see that his jaw is clenched. He mumbles and you’re barely able to catch it. Aaron lifts his hands to find your shoulders and you nearly shiver underneath his warm hands, despite the fact that your body might be just as hot. 

Aaron reaches behind you and searches for your clasp. You can feel his fingers on your back as he feels for it and he’s incredibly aware that your gaze is on him. It takes all of his willpower not to open his eyes. He’s imagined undressing you before, but not like this. Aaron’s fingers find the clasp and he’s slow to undo it, afraid of tangling the metal.

You feel yourself free from its constraints and Aaron slowly moves his fingertips from your shoulders and down your arm. You comply the best you can with your sore arm and your broken one, and your breathing hitches.

Aaron ignores how fast his heart is beating when he hears your bra drop to the floor. His mind is in overdrive and he bends down again, his fingers immediately coming to your waist and gripping them with gentle care. You look down at him and your mouth is wide open with your jaw hanging when you realize he’s on his knees in front of you. Aaron’s fingers hook on the material of your underwear, but you can’t bear to see him take them off.

“Wait,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily. 

Aaron forces himself to keep his eyes closed and he can hear your shallow breathing. His fingers are wrapped around the fabric of your underwear and suddenly he’s aware that it’s an intimate piece of clothing. Aaron’s cheeks redden and he’s desperately hoping you don’t notice.

“I can do it,” you say. Your voice wavers and you aren’t sure that you won’t be in pain when you take them off, but seeing Aaron on his knees with his hands practically down your underwear is too much for you at this moment.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, clearing his throat. His fingers detach themselves and he abruptly stands up. Aaron keeps his eyes closed still.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, and you mean it. “I really appreciate you helping me out…I’m sure this has crossed a lot of boundaries.”

Aaron wants to tell you he doesn’t mind it one bit, but he holds his tongue to refrain from making you uncomfortable. His eyes feel heavy and he stumbles when he stands up but catches himself when he feels the doorknob behind him.

“Like I said, I’m here if you need anything.” 

Aaron stands still for a moment and it feels like the both of you had the air knocked out of your lungs. He doesn’t want to overstep or make it seem like he’s taking advantage of your vulnerable state, so he exits the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

You lock it immediately and pin yourself against the door. Your heartbeat is irrational and you turn the water on, fixing it to your desired temperature. Bending to take your underwear hurts and your shoulders feel like they’re about to pop off, but you manage.

You’re acutely aware that Aaron’s in your living room, no doubt trying to rid himself of the awkwardness. You aren’t sure if you’re grateful at what transpired because while it’s enough to help you forget about Los Angeles, it makes your cheeks flare into a hot mess and you feel uncomfortably turned on.

Aaron, too, feels the same way. He feels filthy sitting on your couch and results in pacing around the room. His shoes are discarded by the door and it feels all too domestic. Aaron’s tie is suddenly too tight so he tugs on the knot to loosen it. He rids himself of his suit jacket and places it neatly on the arm of the couch, and thinks about anything but you, naked in the shower. His slacks feel a little too tight, so he takes out his phone to check his email. It works for a while,

A while later, Aaron realizes you’ve walked out of the bathroom and you’ve managed to change without his assistance. You comment about how the shower loosened your muscles and you were able to get your clothes in relatively painlessly, but all he can think about is how cute you look in an oversized shirt and sweatpants.

He’s too preoccupied admiring how undone you look because it’s the complete opposite from how he sees you at work. In Quantico, you’re somewhat put together, always wearing appropriate office attire and taking your caseload with grace while the rest of the team complains to no end about the amount of paperwork that needs to be filed.

Now, you’re standing in front of him with wet hair and an old shirt that has lost some lettering. It’s domestic and Aaron loves it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about offering you the bathroom,” you say timidly. 

It’s nerve wracking for you to be in Aaron’s presence because of what happened a few moments ago and because you’re not sure why he’s been so nice to you. It’s fresh and strange at the same time, as you’re used to him looking over your shoulder.

But you don’t feel like he’s being domineering. 

���I’ve got a few shirts that might be your size,” you announce. “And a bunch of sweatpants too.”

Aaron’s heart flutters at how welcoming you are considering all that happened to you, but he’s also found himself standing with jealousy when you mention that you have men’s clothing. Are you dating someone? Does he know he’s there?

“I love thrifting and sleeping in big shirts,” you explain, overcompensating for how awkward you feel to be standing in front of your boss looking like a disheveled mess. “I tend to thrift for clothes in the men's section because you guys have really good clothes for dirt cheap.”

Aaron’s worries are quelled and he doesn’t know why he feels so relieved to know you aren’t seeing anyone. 

“That would be great,” Aaron says. 

You nearly skip to your room and huff at your awkward demeanor, pulling out a large shirt from your dresser and a pair of sweatpants you hope is big enough. When you walk back to the living room, Aaron is still standing in the same spot and you’re somewhat touched that he’s nervous to be in your apartment.

“You can change in the bathroom,” you instruct. “Take as long as you need. There’s an extra toothbrush on the counter and a towel on the rack.” 

Grateful, Aaron scurries into the bathroom and you walk away before you can think of imagining him getting undressed. Instead, you busy yourself by fetching extra blankets and pillows for him. There’s an extra thick blanket in your closet and you pull two pillows from your bed, unsure if Aaron’s the type of guy to care about his pillow count. You find yourself stumped for a moment, each hand two with pillows as you debate on how many to give him, before you realize how idiotic you must seem if someone were to take a peek inside your head.

You settle with two pillows. 

You’re fixing a cup of tea for the both of you when Aaron walks out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. You know he likes to drink chamomile tea on the plane when you’re coming back from a case late at night. You’ve seen him make it a million times. It feels weird to be making him a cup, but you figure it’s the least you could do after he helped you change out of your clothes. 

“I made you tea,” you say lamely, setting the cup down on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. Aaron walks towards you and he feels the hardfloor beneath him and how hot the mug is when he touches it. Thinking about this distracts him from your broken arm and the swell of guilt he has in his chest. 

“Thank you,” Aaron says. 

“I put in a little bit of honey. I hope it’s not too much.”

Aaron raises his eyebrow. “How’d you know I liked honey in my tea?”

“You drink it a lot on the plane,” you explain. “I see you make it a lot. You always scold Spencer every time he puts too much of it in.”

He can’t help but smile, but he hides it behind the cup.

Neither of you say anything. You don’t know what more you can say. The words cause you to choke every time you think about what happened back in Los Angeles. Realistically, you know there’s no way Scott can hurt you anymore, but it doesn’t stop you from panicking at the thought of being alone in your apartment. 

But you look at Aaron, who’s looking at you, and you’re able to let your guard down for a little while. 

“Thank you,” you muster. “For taking care of me back at the hospital and back at the barn. It…it meant a lot that you stayed.” 

“Of course,” he says a little too quickly. “You’re a member of this team and your safety is my top priority.”

Your gaze drops to the floor. You aren’t sure what you were expecting. An apology? A confession? Truthfully, you don’t know what you want to hear from Aaron but it hurts knowing that he views you as just another colleague.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t made you feel that way in a long time,” Aaron starts when he realizes you’ve grown quiet. “A member of the team, I mean.” 

“I-I just felt like I should’ve been doing more,” you confess. 

“You’re doing everything right, Y/N. You’re an exceptional agent and an outstanding person. Any part of the bureau would be lucky to have you.”

“Yeah?” you ask quietly. 

“Absolutely.” Aaron means in.

You finish your tea and it all becomes too much for you. The pain of your arm is quelled by the medication your doctor prescribed and Aaron helps you open the bottle. It makes you feel silly that you need someone else’s help to do something so simple and you feel your frustration get the better of you. 

“I’ll be out here if you need anything, okay?” Aaron reassures. “Please don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

“I promise,” you say and it’s one you’re planning on keeping.

You close the door behind you and turn off the lights. It feels weird to be in your apartment because you feel like everything should be back to normal, but it isn’t. In your years with the BAU, nothing as serious as this kidnapping has ever happened to you. You’ve been trained to deal with kidnappings before and how to talk to the victims and to the survivors, but you’ve never thought you’d have to deal with the aftermath yourself. 

You can’t sleep on your side because of your cast and your body feels like it’s constantly being run over by a stampede. The soft mattress is a contrast of how stiff your body feels and it all feels like it’s too much. 

Aaron can’t sleep either. He’s been staring at the door for the past thirty minutes as he tries to fall asleep. His phone is plugged into the wall behind him and he checks in with Dave, who texted him as he drove you back to your apartment. Aaron briefly thinks about Jack and his heart softens for a moment, but then he hears your soft cries from the room.

Aaron lies completely still and hears your whimpers. He hears you sniffle, blow your nose twice, and he’s acutely aware of the fact that he has no idea what to do. He has half a mind of barging into your room to comfort you until you’re asleep, but he doesn’t want to overstep his welcome more than he already has. Aaron feels frozen on the couch and doesn’t know if you’re too nervous to ask him for comfort.

He’s surprised when you walk outside. You don’t turn the lights on and he can barely make your face when you step into the moonlight. But you look frail, broken, and like you’ve been tormented by your memories. Aaron hates that.

“Aaron?” you call out. Your voice is small and his heart cracks. “Can you keep me company?”

Aaron doesn’t need to be told twice. 

He lifts the blankets from his legs and follows you into the bedroom. You sit on the edge of the bed and sniffle. Aaron sits next to you and carefully puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

It’s comforting and it aches. The pain of trauma and knowing that your life will never be the same again makes it seem like you’re never going to recover. Aaron doesn’t say anything, letting you cry into his shoulder and ignores the way your tear stains have soaked through the fabric. 

He’s imagined being in your apartment before; he often wonders what your decor looks like and how often you spend time here. He’s imagined cooking breakfast for you before you wake up, making you cups of your favorite tea, making the bed after you’ve both woken up, and kissing you goodbye when you walk out the door. Being in your bedroom like this feels too intimate, but if he was being honest with himself, Aaron doesn’t really mind it. He likes that he’s the person you choose to lean on. He feels like this is the first step in holding himself accountable for how he’s treated you in the past. 

Your shoulders are shaking and Aaron does everything he can think of to coax you through your sadness. He whispers praise and allows you to cry when you keep apologizing for your behavior, and he keeps telling you that he’s not going anywhere. 

When you manage to calm down, you’re tired. Aaron lets you climb underneath the covers and tucks the blanket under your chin. His hand brushes your skin and he blushes, though he’s sure you can’t tell because of how dark it is. Aaron bids you goodnight and starts to walk back to the living room but you reach out for his hand before he gets the chance to leave. He turns around and feels your soft grip on him. 

“Could you sleep with me?” you ask. “Or at least stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course,” Aaron says. He throws all caution in the wind and starts to walk to the other side of the bed and he’s surprised when you open the covers for him.

Your mattress is soft and your blankets smell like you. He tries not to think about it and leaves space between the both of you.

“Did you know I joined the BAU because of you?” you ask in the darkness.

“What?” Aaron says of shock.

You laugh lamely. “You guys held a few seminars at my alma mater and I knew then what I wanted to do with my life. I applied to the academy the next fall.”

Aaron doesn’t know what to say. His cheeks are hot and you’ve rendered him utterly speechless. In your tired state, you push yourself as comfortably as you can until the back of your head is leaning on Aaron’s chest, mindful of your broken arm. 

Aaron’s stunned and his body stiffens. But he thinks of all the times he’s thought about laying beside you like this and decides that he’ll cherish it as much as he can. His arm snakes itself underneath you as he tugs you closer, and he whispers a soft goodnight.

***

D.C. is a little cloudy when you wake up. The light peeks through your blinds and you’re made aware of the man sleeping beside you when you realize your face is buried in his chest. Your good arm is beneath you while the other is on top of the blanket. Aaron’s arms are encircled around you and when you feel his warmth. 

You don’t rush to wake him up. Being here with him somehow feels right despite the part of your brain telling you he’s your boss and nothing more. But Aaron wouldn’t stay with you if he didn’t want to, right? 

Part of you thinks he’s doing it just because he feels guilty. You know that there’s some truth to that, but you wonder if it’s the only reason he elected to take care of you. But you decide it’s too early to think about this. Instead, you close your eyes and bask in Aaron’s warmth, and fall asleep again. 

This time, Aaron wakes you up twenty minutes after you fall back asleep. His arms are numb from your weight and he feels like he might try to kiss you if he doesn’t wake you up. 

Your eyes flutter open and you bury your head in his neck. Aaron doesn’t bring himself to push you off of him. He pulls you against him and the both of you lay in silence for what feels like an eternity. 

Eventually, Aaron has to leave because Jack’s coming home from a sleep away camping trip. He apologizes a thousand times over because he knows he said he wasn’t going anywhere, but you tell him that Jack is more important. An unrecognizable expression flashes across his face before he’s out the door, promising you that he’ll call to check in once Jack’s home.

And he does. Aaron calls you a few hours later when Jack’s in the shower and asks you how you’re feeling, if you’ve taken your medication, and if he needs to do anything for you. You decline for his help despite desperately wanting him back in your apartment.

When night falls, Aaron lets Jack stay up an hour later than usual. They’re watching cartoons from the nineties when Aaron gets a sudden idea. He pauses the television and turns to Jack.

“Do you remember Y/N?” Aaron asks his son.

“Of course I do,” Jack says. “She’s the one who buys me snacks when I come to visit you.” 

“That’s right, buddy.” Truthfully, Aaron didn’t know you’ve continuously done that for Jack. But he rolls with it. 

“Is she okay?”

Aaron knows Jack can tell something’s up.

“Not really,” Aaron replies honestly. “She got hurt real bad in our last case and broke her arm.”

Jack opens his mouth in surprise. “Oh no. Do you think she’ll get better soon?”

“I hope so. She needs a lot of help right now because she lives alone.”

“Well she can stay with us until her arm is better,” Jack says as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world. Aaron can’t help but smile through his shock. 

“I’ve gotta ask her first, but I think that’s a great idea. That’s actually what I wanted to ask you.”

“It’ll be fun!” Jack exclaims. “Me and Y/N can watch cartoons while you’re at work and she can help me with my homework. She’s nice like that.” 

“Yes she is,” Aaron says, nodding. 

“Do you think I should make her a card so she feels welcomed in our home? I think I have leftover paper and glitter. Girls love glitter.”

“Y/N would love that. I’m going to talk to her first and if she agrees to stay over, you can make her a card.”

“Yay! This is gonna be the best sleepover ever.” 

Aaron’s ecstatic that Jack’s receptive to the idea. He calls you the next morning and proposes the idea of staying at his place until your cast comes off. When you lament how long that’ll be from now, he insists and tells you Jack was the one who came up with the idea.

You can’t say no to Jack. 

Aaron helps you gather belongings from your apartment and tells you that he’ll drive you back here or pick you up any time you want or need to. You double check that you’ve packed enough clothes for a week.

It’s a gradual and awkward start. You feel out of place as you try to navigate his apartment and where he keeps everything, not wanting to feel like you’re already welcomed in his home. But Aaron keeps reminding you that his home is your home and you don’t need permission since you’ll be here for a while.

Jack is sweet, too. He helps you by telling you where everything is stored and goes so far as to hold your hand while doing so. He insisted on tucking you in while you slept in the guest bedroom just to make sure you were comfortable on your first night, and you thought you might start crying in front of him.

At first, you walk on eggshells. You tiptoe around the boys and feel like a burden when Aaron brings home dinner for three or when he buys extra groceries, especially when he refuses to let you chip in. Jack tries to ease your worries after sensing your discomfort by asking you to build legos with him and you do your best despite the pain in your arms.

Aaron reminds you of your medication (and in turn, Jack asks you if you’ve taken your pills), cooks your favorite comfort meals, and drives you to mandated therapy sessions whenever he has the time. It warms your heart at how helpful he’s been since you know how busy he is typically, and you’re not sure what to make of your emotions. 

Time passes by and suddenly staying with Aaron feels somewhat normal. You’re off of work until your arm is healed and you’ve seen your therapist a number of times, and you know you have a couple of months of doing whatever you want until you go back into the field. Against the advice of Strauss, you continue to help with cases and the paperwork load so Aaron can spend more time with Jack.

Gradually, you start to feel comfortable when you’re alone. You use his kitchen, clean his dishes, and busy yourself with tidying Jack’s messes. You explore his neighborhood and have found a few cafes and restaurants you’d like to try out. You feel more comfortable lounging on his couch instead of keeping yourself in the guest bedroom.   

It feels domestic and you can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing. There’s still so much left unsaid, including how you’ve felt being his subordinate prior to your abduction. Aaron’s apologized over and over again, has given you time to heal from it and chooses not to ask for forgiveness in lieu of letting you find it yourself. It means a lot. Deep down, you know Aaron isn’t a bad person. You just wish you knew why you were different.

A week turns into two, then into three, and soon enough you find yourself caring after Jack. You feel useless if you sleep in and start waking up early to make breakfast as best you can for everyone (limited to cold breakfasts until you start to feel confident using your dominant arm when it’s out of the sling). Aaron walks into the kitchen to see you making oatmeal one day and you’re worried that you’ve overstepped, but he thanks you profusely.

Jack waddles in and he takes the oatmeal without question and asks if you can put brown sugar and fruit in it. You look around and see apples and blueberries, and Jack chooses the blueberries. He watches as you fix him a bowl and eats his breakfast in silence.

It becomes a routine for you after growing tired of doing nothing all day. Helping Aaron’s around the house as best you can, working remotely on cases, and spending time in his neighborhood feels like you’re recording.

Jessica, Jack’s aunt, has been informed of your stay by Aaron. You’ve met her before in passing but have never spoken to her in depth before staying with Aaron. She picks him up and drops him off, making small talk with you about her life and about your work. It goes so far as coffee dates when she’s available and it feels like your life is getting back on track.

Meanwhile, Aaron realizes he’s bit off more than he can chew when he sees you every morning. He hears your morning voice and finds himself wanting to wake up to it every day. He sees the way you are with Jack, how thoughtful and helpful you’ve been, and thinks it’s where you belong.

And it hurts. It hurts to know that all of his suppressed feelings are suddenly coming to the surface.

Your cast is coming off later today and you’re due for another mandated therapy session and a psychological evaluation before you’re able to return to work. He’s elated, but that means you’re okay to return to your apartment and he’ll have to get used to the house being empty.

Aaron’s parked his car at Quantico and he glances at you in the passenger seat. Your arm sling and cast are gone and you look as good as new, but he’s reluctant to step out of the car. You look back at him, hands fiddling in your lap.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you begin. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and Jack.”

“You’d be just fine,” Aaron assures. “But it was nice seeing you recover. Is your arm doing okay?”

“It’s like I never had a broken arm.” You flex it in front of him for emphasis. “My shoulder’s still a bit sore but I think my physical therapist has expedited the healing process.”

Aaron smiles. “Good. I’m glad.” 

A brief moment of silence falls between the two of you before you both get out of the car. Your therapist had asked you whether or not you were ready to integrate yourself back with the team and was scheduled to supervise your initial day back in the office. You’re apprehensive, however, because you know that you never perform well if you’re being watched closely. 

JJ’s the first to greet you when you walk through the doors. The office smells the same and it looks the same, but it doesn’t feel the same. You spend a few extra seconds embracing JJ and gather that she needs this hug more than you do.

Everyone files in and it’s barely eight in the morning. David congratulates you on recovery, Derek and Penelope bombard you with jokes that make your stomach hurt, Emily shows you photos of Sergio upon your request, and Spencer gives you a side hug and tells you he’s glad you’re doing better.

The therapist arrives soon after and you’re on your best behavior without making it seem like you’re trying to be. 

In the end, she permits you to return back to the BAU with the promise of continuing therapy. She refers to you to a few others and tells you that you should try to go in at least once a week, or however frequently your job lets you. You’re clear to fly, yield your gun, and you’re reinstated as a profiler with the BAU.

Aaron drives you back to his place to pick up your belongings before he drives you back to your apartment. He and Dave had been kind enough to drive your car back to your place, where it’s been sitting untouched.

The ride is filled with music from the eighties and you’re so elated from your first day back at work that you don’t mind singing in front of Aaron and pretending you’re shredding on an electric guitar. He takes his time getting home, taking the long way instead of the direct route, and he doesn’t think you notice. Aaron hopes you don’t.

But he arrives at his place and Jessica’s greeting you at the front door, happy to see you’ve recovered before she goes home. The sun has barely set and Jack walks out behind his aunt, asking you what’s for dinner.

You’re stunned for a moment as the realization that this all ends tonight. Staying with Aaron, falling into a life of balancing work and domesticity comes to an end when he drops you off at your apartment. Jack’s tugging on your elbow and Aaron scolds him because you might still be in a little bit of pain. He apologizes sweetly.

Aaron beckons you inside where you've started to pack your belongings. The luggage you've brought seems smaller than when you brought it, as you find it difficult to pack everything. You make the bed and set the room as you found it (to the best of your recollection), and you’re ready to put your shoes on when Aaron rounds the corner.

“I was thinking we could have one last meal here.” He clears his throat. “To celebrate your recovery.”

You don’t hesitate. “I would love that. I finally get to show you my cooking skills.” 

Aaron smiles and Jack runs to your legs, beckoning you to the kitchen. You settle on making oven baked chicken with mashed potatoes and honey glazed carrots, all of which Aaron had in his refrigerator. Jack asks how he can help and you’re touched when he brings a stool to perch on, and you tell him he can help you by rinsing the potatoes. 

Aaron offers to help and you look at him with a silly grin, letting him prepare the carrots while you prepare everything else. Halfway through the process, Jack becomes somewhat irritable because of hunger and because the entire kitchen smells like a Thanksgiving feast. But he relents and waits for the meal to be done when you tell him the food always tastes better when it’s cooked longer.

You almost forget it’s your last time with Aaron and Jack when you eat your meal together. You forget it when Jack insists on ice cream for dessert and when Aaron makes you a cup of tea just the way you like it. You forget about it until Jack asks his father if he can be there when he drops you off at your apartment. 

Your heart breaks a little. Aaron agrees and lets you grab your belongings while he buckles Jack in the car. Your luggage is in the trunk by the time Aaron is done and he opens the passenger door for you before getting in the car himself. Jack talks the entire ride, thanking you for dinner and lamenting how much he loved spending time with you. Aaron’s grip on the steering wheel is tight and he doesn’t think his heart could swell any bigger.

Eventually, the boys walk you up to your floor and Jack lunges at your abdomen after the three of you have walked into your living room. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Jack mumbles in your sweater.

“You’ll see her around, buddy. She’s not leaving the team,” says Aaron.

“But I’ll miss Y/N at home. I like spending time with her there.” 

You and Aaron share a look. You can’t tell what he’s thinking but you know you’re unable to control the influx of emotions that will eventually spill out of you when they leave. 

“Me too,” Aaron says quietly. 

They leave soon after that.

You spend an hour crying in your living room and you haven’t unpacked your suitcase. Living with Aaron and being so close to him made you realize how your feelings for him, albeit complicated, have always been there. 

You love him. You love his generous nature. You love the adoration he has for Jack and for his team. You love how he knows your beverages of choice and how gentle he’s been with you. You love the way he says your name and you love that you feel right at home with him.

It’s ten o’clock when you grab your phone and you know Jack’s been asleep for at least an hour. You dial Aaron’s contact and in your anxious state of mind, nearly regret your actions. But he picks up and you hear the sweet melody of his voice through the phone. Your voice falters at first, but you push through them anyway. You’re sure Aaron can hear your voice post-crying because of how raspy your voice is, but you don’t care.

You tell him you think you love him and it’s not because he’s been taking care of you. You pour your heart and soul into this speech and you panic when he doesn’t say anything.

“This’ll be one hell of a story we tell Strauss.”

And you laugh. You laugh because you know Aaron feels the same and you laugh because facing paperwork and recounting this conversation to Strauss doesn’t seem like the most frightening thing in the world anymore.

But just for good measure, Aaron tells you he loves you too. 

***

AAAND WE’RE DONE X 

[azsazz]

Off Grid

Azriel x Reader [Formula One AU]

Summary: Ferrari has signed on rookie driver Dorian Havilliard. Azriel must learn to navigate the 2024 season with a new teammate and his secret relationship, with you, who just so happens to be the team’s media trainer.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,109

Notes: This one goes out to @moosemahboi for the ask this morning 😏 enjoy 😉 (idk why I can’t tag u but hopefully you see this)

Also, sorry if the formatting looks like shit I’m posting this from my phone. I busted this out so fast tho whoops

_________________________________________

“Azriel, how are you feeling knowing that Ferrari has signed young Dorian Havilliard for the 2024 season?” The reporter asks, sitting eagerly on the edge of his seat. He has his phone out, recording Azriel’s responses. The man has been hanging onto every word Azriel has said; him and the other thirty journalists eager to pester him, all cramped within the small room.

Beside him, Cassian snickers under his breath, all too obviously happy that he’s not the one who must suffer this torturous questioning. Azriel refrains from rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all. Well, it’s not absurd but it feels like it because it’s been the only question anyone seems to care about right now, they no longer care to ask how the new chassis feels, what his thoughts are about the new Las Vegas race added to the schedule, how he’s projected to be one of the top drivers this season. Was supposed to be one of the top performing drivers of the season. Ever since Ferrari leaked that Dorian Havilliard is making his debut with the team for the first race, it’s been a feeding frenzy for the media, trying to be the first to glean insider information about the fresh meat.

“I think he’ll make a great addition to the team,” is all Azriel offers in response.

He’s hot and sweaty from practice and being blinded by flashes of cameras that don’t seem to be stopping anytime soon isn’t helping his mood in the slightest. It’s the part of his job that he despises the most. All Azriel wants to do is drive, because nothing feels as good as the adrenaline when he’s behind the wheel, but right now all he wants is to go home, not respond to million questions he’s already answered too many times before. And to be honest, he’s kind of pissed about Ferrari signing Dorian Havilliard and nixing Rowan Whitethorn, who has signed on to be McLaren’s first seat after Aedion Ashryver’s accident at the final race of the 2023 season that sent him into early retirement.

There’s a beat of silence, and when it’s clear he has nothing else to say about the matter, someone else pops up from their seat and another question is hurled his way. “And what about your former teammate, Rowan Whitethorn? How is he taking the news of losing his seat to Havilliard?”

The urge to roll his eyes into his fucking skull is so great he almost doesn’t stop it, but the last thing he needs is the team’s media trainer on his case about the appropriate ways to conduct himself during media panels, no matter how pretty she is.

They should be asking this question to Rowan or even Dorian, whenever he begins press for the upcoming season.

“Rowan understands,” he tries to hide the sour tone in his voice. Azriel and Rowan have been driving together for the past three seasons and it’s been one of the best experiences he’s had with a teammate in Formula 1. He knows the constructors are too worried about placing him on the same team as Rhysand or Cassian, who he grew up with at karting school. They’re like brothers and they act like it too, but if they were on the same team the rivalries would feel even more drastic than they already are. “He’s a good driver and talent like his isn’t going away anytime soon.”

Rowan’s new teammate, Hunt Athalar, nods from Azriel’s other side. He and Cassian seem to be enjoying not being pestered with surface-level questions, and Azriel wishes that he was feeling the same.

With a few more unnecessary queries about Dorian, press finally ends. He, Hunt, and Cassian are escorted from the room, the trail of flashes and conversation starting up clinging to his back as he walks.

“Fucking hell,” Azriel mutters to Cassian, who jabs him in the side with a snigger once they’re cleared the room, the door shutting with a loud click behind them. “I hate these interviews.”

“Don’t need to tell me that, mate,” he laughs wholeheartedly, and Azriel glares. “I’m pretty sure everyone can tell. Might want to learn to act like you like it, though. Ferrari won’t keep you if your attitude sucks. But I’m sure that media trainer of yours is about to hunt you down and tell you the same thing.”

Azriel frowns. He thought he’d done a pretty good job at deflecting the questions about his new teammate.

“People like me for me,” Azriel shrugs, defending himself. He’s never been a bullshitter, no matter how badly his team has wanted him to be. This is what the people get, 100% Azriel, take it or leave it. And Ferrari has decided to take it, for the last three seasons. The second half of his sentence is drowned out as Cassian’s snickering becomes full-bodied laughter. “And my trophies speak for themselves.” He doesn’t mean to come off as cocky, but he’d rather be authentically himself than a puppet to the media.

Cassian shakes his head, wiping the nonexistent tears from the corners of his eyes. “No, people like me for me,” he winks at Azriel’s glare. “They like you because you’re a decent driver.”

Azriel’s nose crinkles. “Decent? My car is projected to perform even better than Rhys’ this year!”

They three drivers turn down a hall, nodding to the two Haas drivers they pass: Bron and Hart.

“We’ll see, won’t we, Athalar?” Cassian cranes his neck around Azriel, directing the question to the silent driver on his other side. Hunt and Azriel have never been close, but the angel of McLaren offers a genuine smile in response.

“Should be a good season, boys.” Azriel and Cassian share a look. A perfect media-trained answer, Hunt gave. The other driver turns off down another hall, “See you later.”

“What a weirdo,” Cassian mutters once Hunt has disappeared from sight. “Good luck to Ro, having to deal with that.”

Azriel finally rolls his eyes like he’s been wanting to do since he left the press room. “Yeah, and I’m the asshole.”

Cassian huffs and the pair of drivers stop at the end of the hall where it splits to go to their respective driver rooms.

“I’ll see you later, man.”

“Hopefully in a better mood, Azzy,” Cassian chuckles and dips down the hall before Azriel can toss another glare or remark at him.

Shaking his head, Azriel returns to his driver room. He’s going to grab his things and get the fuck out of here, because relaxing at his hotel sounds much better than waiting around here any longer.

A knock on the door interrupts his actions, and Azriel wonders why the Mother fails to grace him with one sliver of luck today.

“Come in,” he grunts, snagging his water from where he left it on top of the desk.

You enter the room with your phone and clipboard in your hands. You’re typing on your phone, fingers flying across the screen as you reply to another email. The water does nothing to quench Azriel’s suddenly dry throat.

He can’t help the way his eyes drag down your body with your attention on your phone, drinking in the sight of you in your pressed pants and professional button up shirt. There’s a lanyard around your neck with your Ferrari employee access printed on it and he wants to wrap his fist around the strap and—

Wherever his mind was drifting off to is completely shattered by your piercing eyes. He hasn’t had enough time to prepare for your apparent annoyance at his attitude during the press conference. You don’t look happy, and neither is his name as it rolls from your lips in a disappointed manner. “Azriel.” You step further into the room. “What the hell was that out there? You know you can’t—”

Your rant is cut off as Azriel consumes the space between you in two long strides, leaning in to slant his lips over yours, eating up your words. You can’t help but to melt into it a little, a lot when his tongue traces the seam of your lips and you part for him, brushing up against your tongue in a sensual move.

When he straightens, you’re panting and a bit flushed. Arousal burns through your body like petrol on the track, but you steel yourself against that fire in his eyes, all ready to light you up.

“Not even going to say hello before you start in on me?” Azriel asks, licking his lips. Your eyes follow the motion, and he smirks. The way his body is pressed up against yours and the firm grip of his hands on your hips threatens to distract you further, especially when his red racing suit is slung around his waist, leaving him in that tight, black long sleeve that contours around his lithe body perfectly.

“No,” you agree, and he frowns. “I’m upset with you.”

“Was it something I said?” He cringes at his own lame attempt at a joke, ducking from your serious gaze. “‘M sorry, I’m just sick of all the Dorian questions. They’re not asking anything about the season or the car, only how I feel about a rookie taking Rowan’s seat.”

You ache for him, you really do, but things like this happen in the sport and he’s been in it long enough now that Azriel should know better than to act like this. You can admit, Rowan had been an asset to Ferrari and to Azriel, wriggling his way under the stoic driver’s skin like a worm, burrowing deep into his heart.

“Az, you need to stop playing it like Dorian took his seat on purpose,” you console gently, “We both know that it was Rowan’s time, and he couldn’t resist what McLaren might’ve proposed.”

“I know, I know,” Azriel replies unhappily, retreating to perch on the arm of the small couch. He can accept it, but he doesn’t like it, preferring to blame the new driver instead. “I don’t want to deal with that little punk,” he groans, because the thought of putting up with a cocksure rookie tires him. “Coming in here thinking he owns the damn place.”

“Azriel,” you tut, rolling your eyes. You put a hand on your hip. “That was literally you four years ago.”

“It’s different,” he mutters, but you both know that it’s not.

You abandon your phone and clipboard on the desk in the room before standing between his parted thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. His damp hair is slicked back but a strand falls across his forehead and he looks really good like this, head tilted upwards, gold eyes painted with false innocence.

“Why don’t you, instead of being Dorian’s enemy, you become his ally?” You ask softly, fingering the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Because that’s not how the team works, baby,” Azriel sighs, enjoying the way you’re scratching his skin. He wants to lean forward and rest his head in the crook of your neck, maybe take a cat nap or nip at the skin there. “We might drive for the same team, but I’m not looking to be the supporting driver.”

Fuck that. There’s no way he’s letting a rookie take his seat when he’s worked his ass off since he received it. He’s been driving for Ferrari since he first got an in the sport, four years ago. He fought tooth and nail to work up from second seat to first, and Azriel will be damned if Dorian rips it from under him in one season.

“Your jealousy is showing,” you tease your boyfriend a little, poking him on the nose. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, hanging all over each other when anyone could walk into the room, but you can’t resist your draw to Azriel. “It’s not as endearing as it is when you’re jealous that I’m talking to one of the engineers.”

“Don’t remind me,” Azriel grunts, eyes hardening a little. “You’re mine and I don’t like to share.”

You snort, “That much is clear, babe,” you step out of his arms and miss the heat of his body already. You collect your things from the desk and return to him for a quick kiss. You shoot him a final knowing look, dodging his attempts at capturing you against his chest again. “Work on it, Azriel. I mean it.”

He salutes you as you open the door to slip out. “Yes ma’am.”

It shuts quietly behind you and Azriel slumps back onto the couch, sighing.

It’s going to be a long season.

_________________________________________

@iambored24601 @secretlyhers @kylaisra @daily-dose-of-sass wasn’t sure but figured u might want to see this one 😅

[ghostlytide]

For Business Only | One

I hope you like it ^^

Vincent Renzi x Fem! Reader----1.6K

MASTERLIST -> Next

Synopsis:

After the whirlwind affair Vincent and you shared years ago, he was sure his goodbye was definitive. A fleeting memory filled with both regret and a peculiar ache that he can’t quite place. But life wishes to scorn him once again when his newest case obliges him to seek out your help. Though this case isn’t the only complicated thing in this strictly professional relationship—not with the way his heart seems to jump at your proximity, or the already familiar tune of your voice. For all the things that had changed, would this mean your story could have a different ending now?

General Tags: Second Chance/Exes to Lovers; Slow Burn; |They were Coworkers; Denial of Feelings; Pining & Longing; Idiots in Love; Eventual Friends (?) with Benefits (?); English isn't my first language so watch out for typos;

It was a late spring night when Vincent said his goodbye to you, so it was only fair that your reencounter would occur in another.

Life played both hommage and karma at him, remembering his words: You may forever hate me, but I promise you that you'll never see me ever again. I've bothered you enough.

That night, he had regained the common sense that had slipped out his grasp since you entered the law firm as an intern; eager to learn from whoever would spare you a glance for something more than to request their thousandth cup of coffee.

Of course, he did.

And how could he not to? When you were so bright and cheerful, all the opposite from those seniors who had seen the worst, to experience who knows how many times the balanced and blind justice's weight to tip at the wrong side. To have to face the client's hopeless expression.

Of course, you'd probably be sheltered from such a dark world at your station once you reached juniorship. But that wasn't the point right now.

Just as it wasn't the point to reminisce. He felt as ashamed as it could be possible while climbing the stairs of the skyscraper, which on the inside was decorated with pieces of steel, glass, and contemporary art that combined perfectly against the simple columns and the frescoes painted in the dome of the main hall.

Vincent shouldn't be overwhelmed by the sight, but he'd never been inside the Building of the Société Générale, white marble walls against a dark mosaic creating a cube to showcase the colorful paintings hung on the walls.

The secretary at the front desk showed him the way to the elevator behind the reception, polished black walls against the metal door as Vincent felt a pull in the pit of his stomach—either for the sudden upward movement or for nervousness, he didn't wish to dwell much on it.

Walking much faster than he wanted to, the secretary passed through an empty, quiet hallway in which Vincent could read a myriad of plaques varying from Accounting Department, all the way to Human Resources.

Finally, she stopped at a door labeled as Banking Associate: Cultural Department. Calling your name, she said: "Monsieur Favrè has sent his lawyer impromptu to meet you."

A muffled voice—your muffled voice echoed in the still hallway, stirring old memories inside of him he wasn't aware of keeping in the first place. "Alright. Let him come in."

A simple nod and the woman was gone. It was only the two of you now.

He took his time, a skipping beat. At the same time, you finished writing away at your keyboard. Then the door was closed with a gentle click.

"Monsieur Delaroux, what can I do for y—" A tentative pause, your bright, smart eyes locked into his. "Vincent?"

This hadn't been the deal planned out in his mind; he was almost hoping you'd ask, with a puzzled voice, who he was as if memory could morph at will rather than being one's source of torture.

So many years passed since he heard his name coming out of your soft lips, that if he remembered quite well, would taste like mocca and vanilla. But why was he remembering that now, from all times?

"Hello," he said, an awkward smile shining in the well-lit office. He put one of his hands inside the pocket of his dress pants, suppressing the childish urge to wave.

You blinked. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I know this isn't what we agreed on," he started, using small steps to get closer to the desk, as if you were a deer likely to run off, or a lion ready to pounce. Vincent had no idea which of the two could be worse. "But I need your assistance for a case. You're the most capable person I can think of, so I had to come and ask for your help."

Reclining from your seat, he let the words simmer into you, using the little time he had to look around your office, part of him was curious to see if he could still recognize a glimpse of the old you, and what he could learn from the present.

"How did you find me?" you asked, hands gesturing from him to sit in front of your desk.

"There are not many art lawyers with your name," he said, slightly flustered he had to admit about searching your name among colleagues, prying into your life when his promise was all the contrary. It wasn't the first time he felt like a fool, yet prideful because he was here for work.

And solely for work.

"I have a case linked with a small private art collection." His voice was plain, devoid of any emotion. He wasn't Vincent right now, the man that tried not to break your heart but failed terribly; he was Maître Renzi one of the talented lawyers from the before small law firm that now was rising like smoke after every case taken. "A murder. Probably linked to the growing art stock. I need an expert in the subject to conduct the required procedures."

"Since when do you take cases about private art collectors?" you hummed, eyes almost twinkling with amusement from all those times he had shit on the upper class and their slippery ways around the judicial system.

It was a good sign that you weren't bringing up his words last spoken, the past that at this moment felt too much aflush despite the time trying to bury it.

"This one is an exception." He couldn't help but get defensive, feeling like a stupid teenage boy being teased despite you being quite some years younger than him. "The owner of the law firm assigned me this case directly. We need to win so the firm can have an expansion." Which meant more law specialties, and more hired lawyers. And then it was… "They're even considering putting an Art Law department."

You could join, he almost said foolishly. Why would you like to be coworkers with him again, when that exact professional relationship prompted all the rest?

You seemed to be thinking the same. "It'll pay well," he added before you could say anything that derailed from his sketched conversation. "And it can help with your curriculum." Vincent signaled to the plaque in front of your computer, reading Junior Consultant. "It could be the case that turns you into a Senior."

There it was the ghost of you, biting your bottom lip in a pondering manner while your gaze was glued to the empty seat next to him.

"What makes you think you're going to win?"

"Have some faith in me, will you?" He chuckled, though deep inside he knew what you meant. It was a question that always lingered at the bottom of his mind, the one that stole his sleep some nights.

"Vincent—"

"Trust me. This is a high-profile case, very important for all people involved. I need your help. I know you're the only person that can help me." He couldn't make another empty promise. To never see you again? Vincent just broke it, and the opposite of that, to be partnered with you as colleagues didn't sound appropriate either. "You're the only one I can trust to remain on my side even if everything goes to shit," Vincent muttered after a while, blue eyes searching for yours as he tried to convince you with pity, even. Because you could never say no to him, and because this case was obliged to use all the desperate, creative measures he could think of.

Though Vincent wasn't lying about said statement. And you knew it.

You looked at him in a long, silent gaze that felt strangely, annoyingly charged inside the medium-sized office, silent so thick he heard the moment you chortled, a breathy, contained laugh that blessed him with the tiniest of smiles.

"Send me the generalities of the case so I can give it a glance tomorrow and write the protocol to follow."

"If tomorrow is one of your free days, we can discuss it over lunch," Vincent found himself saying before his brain could tell him to do better. "I'll give you a printed copy of everything so you can revise it easier. I apologize, but due to the nature of this case, I don't find myself comfortable with sharing this information via remote."

You put away the pencil you were playing with, settling it against the wooden desk with a thunk. "Breakfast. Tomorrow at 9 AM meet me at the Fontaine Saint-Sulpice. We can go to a nearby café once there." Looking from your computer to him, you arched an eyebrow. "Something else you need? You should go before the receptionist notices that you aren't Monsieur Favrè's lawyer."

He shrugged. "I showed her my card, she didn't say anything."

"Well, I'm not allowed to take private clients while on my shift."

"I'm not a client, we're colleagues."

You gestured away. "Wording. You know what I mean."

"You're a lawyer, Mademoiselle, wording matters."

"I write contracts and track art exhibits, Vincent," you told him in a familiar tone he recognized from when you two engaged in a well-needed, unwinding banter. "The one asked to give speeches is you, not me."

"Well, then you better prepare for an exception, because you will have to declare at court about your findings." Vincent heard your sigh and took in the sight of your angry pout, one you dedicated at him when it was time to get out of his office and help other junior lawyers while on your time as an intern. He was surprised to find it as charming as it once was. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He stood up, torn between walking facing you or just striding toward the door. He did the last one, turning to smile at you while his hand tapped to feel the door's handle.

It was his time to call your name. "Thank you. Truly."

You nodded, one of the locks of your hair falling toward your brow, obscuring your view. "I'll see you tomorrow, Vincent."

[bakuettes]

Kill Bill

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒! : toxic!reader, toxic!bakugo, mentions of drugs, reader smokes, lots of cursing bc what’s a bakugo fic if he isn’t cursing????, slight infidelity?, alcohol consumption and lots of spelling errors 😭

Tonight you were supposed to chill out with Mina and Momo in the dorms but word got around that Jackson Wang was hosting a party at a frat house off campus..so obviously you got your ass up and put on the cuntiest outfit you could find in your closet. You had originally wanted to talk with your boyfriend (who’s not your boyfriend but everyone knows he’s your boyfriend) about what the hell you two even were. there would be days where you wouldn’t even get a text back, not a ‘hi sorry i’m busy’ or a ‘let’s talk later im in a training session with kirishima’ literally nothing.

You were fine with it, honestly. If he wouldn’t give you attention then there’s a whole campus of guys that would. It sounds terrible but you’ve learned that it is what it is and you’re on what he’s on. No way in hell would you ever beg for his attention.. at least not anymore. You looked good, you know you did. Tonight was supposed to be filled with good times and (bad decisions) fun memories. He said he was exhausted after hours of grueling training and that we’d talk tomorrow morning. So why is it that you see your boyfriend sitting on a couch outside the frat house with some girl whose name you don’t even know on his lap?

momo stopped all three of you in your tracks, glancing over at you. “y/n, we can always just leave? i’m sure another frat is hosting a party.” should you leave? it’s not like you haven’t seen this from him before. countless nights you spent crying, wondering why you weren’t enough for him to show some effort. fuck, you even wondered if he liked you at all. “what?! no way, why should y/n leave just because he doesn’t know how to keep it in his pants? we came to let loose!” mina disagreed with momo from the opposite side. he hasn’t noticed you guys from a far. sitting there with a red solo cup in his hand, man spreading for the whole block to see and looking as cocky as ever.

fuck no, you were not leaving. he no longer gets to ruin your fun. “it’s cool momo, we’re not leaving. i want to have fun and drink a little before exams start kicking our ass next week.” she looked at you a little unsure but started walking in the direction of the house once more. mina cheered with a shit-eating grin on her face, happy that you chose to stay. walking with a little more confidence in your step, you made your way up the lawn and straight to katsuki. you pursed your lips, faking a look of understanding “exhausted huh? yeah, i’d be exhausted too entertaining all these other bitches. it must get hard trying to keep count, no?”

there was something about seeing him with another girl on his lap that made you want to crash the fuck out. sure you’d hear stories of him jumping from girl to girl while you two were on breaks. a break doesn’t mean you’re completely over, a break mean you two put a pause on your relationship. you still expected loyalty and trust but even that was wishful thinking. the girl was sat on his lap, arm around his neck, giving you a one over. she looked (in the nicest way possible) cheap and tacky. not because she wore the smallest dress known to man but because of the way she carried herself. she had a look of arrogance and a serious case of lash blindness. you were not a bully by any means. you got along with majority of the girls on campus, always gave out hero advice or fashion advice. you’d lend your lip gloss to girls you’d meet in bathrooms if they asked. you truly loved the feeling of having so many friends who can lean on you and vice versa.

But what you hated most were girls who thought that they were superior to others. ones that didn’t respect boundaries OR relationships. you hated this girl.

the smile fell off his face once he heard your voice, probably thinking that you were at the dorms in bed. “y/n, what the fuck are you doing here?” he has such a punchable face, fortunately for him you never believed in putting hands on your significant other. the audacity of him to question you when he was the one who lied? “what the fuck am I doing here? no, what the fuck are YOU doing here? you said you’d be asleep but you’re at a party and laid up with some girl on top of that? you have no right to question me.” you scoff, looking them up and down. you said you wouldn’t let this ruin your night and it won’t. if he wants to act single then you could too. momo and mina follow behind you, throwing dirty looks at both of them. “you ever heard of girl code? bakugo will drop you as soon as y/n calls his name.” momo says and drags mina inside. tonight you’re gonna let loose and let go.

______________________________________________________

𝐚/𝐧 !! okay so this hasn’t been proof read so there may be mistakes but let me know how you like it so far!

[supersparxz]

Deadpool's Gift

Wolverine x Deadpool

Notes: I was bored and felt inspired, hope you enjoy!

-> Deadpool x Wolverine(??)//Logan and Wade//Platonically there isn’t much romance//Logan is ready to kill Wade any second//set after the third movie//cock(tails)//Wade won’t ever finish his speech

Desc: Wade has been gone for a bit and just when Logan misses the quiet, he returns with a surprise

Warnings: Rated R because it has more than one fuck said lol//Profanity and an ass full of it//Minor end of movie spoilers

m.list (soon)

Logan was sitting on the couch, lazily drinking a glass of alcohol as he watched TV with Peggy. His Monday started off peaceful, Wade being gone the past two days and Al away for two weeks on some bingo tournament cruise. Wade didn’t say where he was going, just that he’d bring back souvenirs.

Peaceful and quiet were two words Logan never thought he’d never describe his life again as without ‘it was never’ in the front of them. Even when Peggy whined at him because Wade wasn’t around, it didn’t bother him much. She either wanted a treat or to go on a walk. Not to use the bathroom, but just to be outside. She was toilet trained and could even flush. In fact, before each walk, she would use the bathroom then bring him a leash. Logan didn’t bother to ask whether or not Wade trained her or she’d always been able to do that. 

Suffice to say, stillness is a rare commodity these days, living with the vilest, yappiest, loudmouth he’s ever met in all of his two centuries of life. A 24/7 corner store would close more often than Wade closes his mouth. He has learned to tolerate—well, not just quite tolerate, but live with it. It was his choice after all, and it wasn’t like anyone was stopping him from leaving.

He took another sip of his drink. However, not once has he thought about going back on that decision. In fact, amidst the thick silence he’s been sitting in, he could even entertain the thought that he might miss—

Knocks at the front door to the rhythm of ‘Do You Want to Build a Snow Man?’ followed by a drawn out and obviously flirty, “Logan~” almost made him choke.

“God *cagh* fucking damn it.” Logan said as he cleared his throat. “Dumbass you have a key, why are you knocking?” He yelled from the couch, wiping his mouth.

He didn’t bother to glance behind himself as he heard the door open a crack, “Just in case you were naked and wanted some time to get decent—okay, okay I can hear your scowl. We both know how I’d prefer to see you, and this time it comes with your cloths on, or off your choice, and your eyes closed.”

Logan sniffed the air. What was that? It smelled a lot like Wade, more than usual, but with something else underneath. Then again, Wade smelling like different things, especially after two days of being god knows where fucking god knows what, wasn’t necessarily abnormal. 

“Why?”

“I've got a surprise! It’s why I’ve been gone for so long and—hey, is that a glass of my strawberry lemonade vodka cocktail bowl I made for Yukio’s bachelorette party?”

Logan glanced at the drink in his hand, then to Peggy, as if waiting for her to say anything too. She got up and left the living room. He sighed and closed his eyes. “Fine.”

“When I offered you said you'd rather drink 10 gallons of battery acid soaked in rubbing alcohol before my cocktail-“

Logan gritted his teeth, slowly losing his patience. “I’ll close my fucking eyes, Wade.”

“Okay, okay!! You are going to love this.” Logan heard the door fully open then close. Wade walked around the couch until he was in front of him. 

It smelled even more like the irritating bastard. Almost overwhelmingly so—but it also heightened the scent underneath it. It was familiar, but not. His nose wrinkled as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. It wasn't as if he was nose-blind to Wade's scent, so it couldn't be stronger after he'd been gone. He didn’t hear any more footsteps so Logan prayed to Jesus it couldn’t be any more him's. 

“Oh wow, they really are closed.”

“I said I would, now get on with it.”

“Yes, yes, before you open your eyes, I want you to know what inspired this gift. Peggy has been a delightful addition to our patch work family and I feel she really gets me. I mean, she is me. So… I thought you sadly were missing out on that same thing and got something that is you.”

That startled Logan’s eyes open, “Wade did you get a fucking dog?!” As soon as that left his lips and he saw what was cuddled calmly in Wade’s arms, he immediately wished it had been a dog.

Wade immediately got upset and glared. “Damn it, you impatient shit log! You went ahead and ruined my build up. I had two more paragraphs. It took five hours to practice, thanks a lot.”

“I’m going to fucking move out.”

“And folks that makes it fifty! Yet your firm, clenched ass is still here.”

“Why in the name of Christ would I have sat through two paragraphs of your psychward rambling would be my question if I wasn’t looking at a GODDAMN HONEY BADGER in your GODDAMN arms, Wade!” 

Wade shifted the creature and held his hand up in the silent fox hand symbol, “Hey, class, settle down. Let’s use our indoor voices, kay?” He then pointed to the animal. “This is obviously a wolverine. The guy told me so, and he sells giraffes and red pandas, so I think he knows what he’s talking about. How many of those cocktails did you have, huh? Gotta save some for-“

The glass in Logan’s hand broke, cocktail juice and blood dripping from his fingers. The shards of glass that was embedded began expelling from his hand as he curled it into a fist, save for one finger. Logan held it up toward Wade; one trembling, angry, finger. Logan had his jaw shut so tight he thought his teeth might shatter twice over after regenerating. 

“Wade. You are holding a honey badger. Why?”

“If you sat through my whole speech, you would have gotten all the juicy, dirty, little, heartfelt details. Like I said, I thought we both deserved animal counterparts! And Peggarony seemed lonely, so really this is more for her than it is for you.”

“Those things are usually angry. It’ll rip her to shreds more than I’m about to do to you. In fact, I know I’m being held back by a single strand of Jesus’ ass hair, but why isn’t the badger?”

“Well, Grumpy Smurf, this bad boy is 5 tranquilizers in and I’m at 20–30 of em came free in the package with a 10 dollar Denny’s gift card. Even if I cheated him in Yahtzee and you took the last bit of my happy powder I'm hiding from Feige, we'd be calmer than a corpses heart rate.”

“Why does it smell so much like you?”

Wade huffed, as if within his rights. “And that’s another reason why I’m pissed off! Y'know it’s hard and personal to get your scent extracted?! I had to so you wouldn't sniff out the surprise. And I see that look, no, I didn’t, you’ve been closer to having my semen on you than this wolverine.” He tilted his head lower, gesturing to the spot Logan was sitting on… or whatever he must be sitting in.

That was it. “I’m going to murder you.”

Wade rolled his eyes. “Fine, cry baby. Honey badger.”

Logan extracted his claws and launched out of his seat, ready to do the work the badger should have the moment it set eyes on Wade. Albeit, after hearing the toilet flush, right before his claws could pierce Wade’s side, paused.

The sink water ran for a moment, then out from the bathroom came Peggy, her wet paws leaving tracks on the ground as she casually stepped down the hall. 

Logan scrunched his eyebrows. “She can wash her hands?!”

Wade gasped. “She can use the bathroom!?”

[pinkrose787]

Evil Poppy AU

Been going through a lot, and have been putting Poppy through a lot in my fanfics, so I've decided that she should get to be evil.

Here's the general outline for the AU. Not sure if I'm going to do a full fic for it or not, but I really like the concept.

Evil Poppy AU

Look she deserves to be evil. As a treat.

To get to the core, she is still the same happy, bubbly, optimistic troll as she normally is (at least on the surface). She’s just evil now. After a lifetime of spending her life in support of others, helping them no matter what, she’s tired. All her efforts amount to nothing. Everyone gets better. Everyone gets happier. But not her. They’re tearing her apart bit by bit.

So, she goes evil. Being the well loved Queen of Pop, everyone trusts her. She knows everyone’s secrets. Everyone’s fears. Everything. She has it all meticulously scrapbooked. And she decides hell, why not use it against everyone? Why not sow seeds of fear anger and dissent? Why not become the most powerful troll in the world?

Her relationship with Branch turns toxic. She still loves him deeply, but he is part of the reason that she’s like this now. He was the most extreme case  There’s a part of her that resents him for it, but more of her still loves him. She keeps him around, but doesn’t treat him as a boyfriend, more so, as a pet.

Branch is blinded by his love for her that he doesn’t really see her shift at first. It’s slow like how a frog doesn’t notice that it’s being boiled. When he does notice the changes, he rationalizes them. Not a single part of him can even conceptualize her being malicious in any way.  

Though thinking of it now, maybe she’s always been a little evil in this AU. Afterall, she was the crown princess. Growing up trolls placed her on a very high pedestal. None of her friends were ever on her level. And while most trolls were having carefree lives, she had to spend a lot of time learning about how to care about everyone at a great personal cost to herself.

I think what truly set her over the edge was Viva. She discovered that her father, someone she trusted completely had been lying to her for her entire life. She has an older sister that she never knew about. An older sister who should have inherited the title of ruler. She was never meant to be queen. Everything she suffered through, everything she dealt with was a lie.

Despite this deep betrayal, she’s still expected go on as though nothing has changed. As though the way that she views her father hasn’t been completely altered.

And it wasn’t just her father that was lying to her. So many trolls knew about Viva. Trolls that she saw on a daily basis knew that she had a sister, and yet all of them said nothing to her. None of them even thought to mention in passing about her sister. All of them had made a silent agreement to forget about her sister. And that isn’t something that she can forgive.

[edelfie]

#𝓣𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘! bumpin’ that?

as an aspiring a-list celebrity, it’s important for (y/n) to have a strong inner circle. not just for her work, but also for her own sanity. she was grateful when she met yachi and asahi, who were both kind enough to remain her friend after their work together ended. in terushima’s case, it was less of a choice for him to stay so much as he glued himself to her side from day one. fukunaga was similar, but most won’t believe it from his introverted personality. above all, tendou has been by (y/n)’s side since day one. even when he’s continents away, he is still her closest confident.

or, our main character and her crew! how exciting

BLIND ITEMS! —

## many small work-hands in the music industry only have positive things to say about this rising pop star. allegedly, she only conducts business with other up-and-comings and forms lifelong bonds with them. she appears to be the best of friends with her hairstylist, stylist, and creative designer. [revealed: Y/N L/N, terushima yuuji, azumane asahi, yachi hitoka]

## this z-list pop singer insisted on allowing her close-friend and amateur comedian open at all her shows for her freshman and sophomore albums, despite it not being good for her business. luckily for both, the crowds loved it, and the two still seem to be good friends. [revealed: Y/N L/N, fukunaga shouhei]

## according to an old school acquaintance, this renowned paris-based pastry chef is childhood friends and penpals with a music-industry nobody. the chef used to have a crush on the nobody, but the nobody turned them down in favor of becoming a groupie and eventually dating the A-list lead singer for 5 years. [revealed: tendou satori, Y/N L/N, unknown]

## the two-time flop artist has more exes than she knows what to do with it seems. now that she’s been dumped again, it’s only a matter of time before she writes a trash album about him too. [revealed: Y/N L/N]

hat3r. are we even surprised by any of these?? this isn’t even real tea or news. it’s getting stale — ynisjesus. you don’t ever have a single nice thing to say do you ???

runaruna. i want to know who she dated for 5 years, he’s gotta be like a totally industry bombshell if he’s an A-lister right? — sera_pent. EXACTLY like why is nobody talking about this! — junebuggg. it’s gotta be the guy from undead right? — harobio. no i think its mr “has-it-all” from SIR7 — sapphics4yn. why is everyone thinking it’s a guy ?? DID WE LEARN NOTHING FROM ALISAGATE??

gunslinger67. stream VNGELS by MISC9 !!!

read more…

NOTE! —

Today's fundraiser is "A Father's Plea: Help Save my Family" by Youssef Helles. In 2019, Youssef left Gaza for Belgium to find a better life for his family. However, five years later, the conditions in Gaza have worsened significantly. Now he's fundraising to bring his family to be in Belgium with him. Of the 23,000 goal, about 15,000 has been raised thus far. Every bit counts, so donate to Youssef's cause here or copy and share the link to spread the cause!

And a friendly reminder to register to vote! Please vote in the presidential race, but especially please please please vote in your regional and district elections! Remember to vote based on policy and meaningful change, not just color or party lines, and vote with your values and your important issues in mind. I know as I get older, my priorities have shifted, and as a college student loan forgiveness has become one of my must-addresses, so please! Go out and vote!

In "non-world-altering" news, I had my birthday recently! It wasn't that recent honestly since it was on the 15th, but I still thought it was worth mentioning. I also started college that week, which was fun! Due to the nature of my major, there aren't any stressful classes my first semester—mainly public speaking and fundamentals. I'm sure I'll bite my tongue on that soon though, especially since I have something due tonight *skull emoji*

MASTERLIST + SEVEN EVIL EXES

© all rights reserved—edelfie (2024) // do not plagiarize, modify, copy, use, translate, or repost my work on other sites without permission

[catflowerqueen]

So I’ve seen a lot of Chaos Avatar Zuko fics that at least bring up the fact, if they don’t outright capitalize on it, that Zuko is sitting on a loophole with his new status—that Ozai just ordered him to “capture the avatar” but didn’t necessarily specify which avatar, so basically he could legally wander back into the Fire Nation at any point after merging with Vaatu… but that is typically only brought up a little bit after the merge. And generally speaking, unless the merge happens in his early childhood, for whatever reason, it seems like most of the time the reason Zuko chooses to merge is specifically because he wants Vaatu to help him look for Aang/the avatar in exchange for letting Vaatu out of the tree and getting him closer to Raava—who is obviously with Aang.

But… consider an AU where Zuko actively goes looking for Vaatu after coming across the story of Wan during his research into avatars as part of his banishment (possibly after a visit to Wan Shi Tong’s library, if he managed to get there before Zhao burned the place and ruined it for everyone else). Unlike Unalaq, though, his goal in becoming an avatar is specifically to capitalize on the loophole that his father never specified which avatar to capture.

One can assume he did this because he thought it would be “easier.” Possibly he realized the banishment quest was a fool’s quest, but less in the “my father never meant for me to return” way, and more in the “my father was just underestimating himself, because if he didn’t succeed in his own search, then it means the avatar probably just isn’t around anymore” way. (Going with the idea that “searching for the avatar” might have just been something royals tended to do as a “coming of age” thing after Sozin died, and that both Iroh and Ozai also did their own searches at one point without ever seriously thinking they might find anything).

Also one can assume he had no concrete plans for what to actually do as the “Chaos Avatar” aside from returning home, because he still would have been, like, 13 or 14 and blinded by love for his father.

Vaatu, in this case, would possibly be slightly weirded out/stunned by how earnestly naïve Zuko is being about this situation, but would possibly find the situation at least mildly amusing and would definitely sense the chaos that Zuko would unintentionally unleash if Vaatu actually agreed to do this—in addition to just being sick of his imprisonment and wanting to be let out of the tree ASAP—and so would just go along with it basically for the lolz and spend most of his time watching everything while munching on a metaphorical bowl of popcorn.

Zuko would then proceed to go on a quest to master all four elements so he would actually be able to prove to Ozai that he is, in fact, an “avatar, master of all four elements” and then when Aang eventually emerged would still proceed to chase him around… specifically because he is an airbender, and Zuko still needs to learn airbending before he can return home.

It would not occur to him at any point during this chase that he could just try to capture Aang, the actual, original avatar, to fulfill the terms of his banishment.

At least not until after Ozai gets defeated and Zuko comes to terms with how bad of a father, leader, and person he is.

Iroh would probably try to spin it as some sort of metaphor/proverb about how shortcuts aren’t really shortcuts and one needs hard work and determination to succeed. Possibly even throwing in the Avatar World’s equivalent of the story of the tortoise and the hare, or something.

And Vaatu would probably do the equivalent of pointing and laughing at Raava at some point, while she does the equivalent of facepalming.

[guckies]

Okay this is going of my previous post about Leo so go read that first. Also this post is like background and kind of reasoning so really make your own judgement from this post. Plus this is like 800+ words so this is gonna be a doozy.

Leo only really trusts her direct family, yes of course she loves her aunts, uncles and egg siblings. But when it comes down to it, she’ll always be looking for her dad in the crowd of people because she holds herself back from really developing deeper connections with anyone else. Which I think is in part due to the death of Trump, the lack of effort from others, others being untrustworthy and Vegetta having to leave for long periods.

With Trump’s death, I do think that when Trump died a part of Leo died. Like some people forget that Leo had to watch their best friend die while they were unable to do anything. We talk about how much of a tragedy Trumps death was, but we never talk about the effect it had on Leo. Part of the reason I think Leo doesn’t actively seek out other eggs is because she fears that they’ll die, and it’ll be her fault. Cause somewhere in her heart she believes that Trump’s death was her fault since she wasn’t able to do anything to help him.

She also doesn’t often initiate conversation with others because of how many times she is disregarded by the others. Which isn’t to say they don’t care for her but often they’ll have like 2-3 sentences of conversation and that’s it or some who don’t understand Spanish barely try to understand or give Leo the time of day. But it isn’t the case for all of them because there are a few (like Cellbit, Roier, Jaiden, Tina & Mouse) who don’t always get to see her, that do actively interact with her. However, she will always end up being the second choice (which is becoming the truth for Mouse and Tina who now actually have a child; I think Jaiden will always have Leo in mind, but it depends on how she reacts to Empanada).

All of this is part of the reason Leo doesn’t always try to initiate conversation anymore because of the effort many don’t put into trying to understand her. As well why should she give up her native language to conform to everyone else’s needs when they have the tools to understand her, they have the sign translator, and nothing is stopping them from asking chat or using google to translate. Those things just take a bit more time to do but nothings wrong with doing it cause at least then they’re trying.

Along with all this only recently (excluding festa junina), when the election arc was ending and before the eggs went missing was, she actively seeked out her extended family on her own, like Roier, Cellbit and Richas without their prompt. Which is a big step since she’s hasn’t actually done that without Foolish in months, practically ever since Trumpet died. (Yes, sometimes others do her tasks, but this part isn’t about tasks. Also, that’s usually a desperate situation in which Leo has to rely on others if Foolish isn’t on and her admin still is in school so she can’t be active all the time. So tasks don’t really count here cause she’s just trying to survive).

With Vegetta she understands why he’s not around because that’s all she can do. She has never doubted that he doesn't love her, but she does miss him. I think because Vegetta was such a fierce protector of his family, she did feel a bit threatened by others when he wasn’t around. Because Foolish isn’t taken seriously and Vegetta was always respected due to his fierce protectivenesses. So, without Vegetta who isn’t afraid to strike back on people 10x harder, it can be hard for her to feel truly safe interacting with others because of how aware she is of the situation and feelings surrounding her parents.

She is truly content being just with Foolish and seeing others on the occasion but I do think she was tired of trying only to be met with failure and learning that you can’t always trust everyone on the island. She’s not blind to how everyone treats Foolish so she is always aware of Foolish’s warnings about others and from watching that she’s can’t trust everyone here like the other eggs do.

Plus, when she comes back, she’ll witness it herself again if she notices some of her things are missing and if Bad asks Leo to share her NINHO room. Which is unfair to her because they wouldn’t dare do that to another egg. Like they might not know it’s her stuff but they could ask Foolish before hand to prevent that risk of taking her things yet they don’t. Also with the NINHO they can build a temporary NINHO solutions somewhere else (like normal protected houses such as Ramon’s or Phil’s house). The solutions aren’t hard to do if they put their heads together and think, but they just don’t want to put in the effort. But even with the NINHO room she might agree to it (even though she shouldn’t) if Foolish isn’t there because I don’t think she’ll be honest about her feelings with anyone but Foolish or her direct family(if pressed) cause others have never really listened to or understood Leo’s emotions before.

Really the conclusion to all this is that Leo has never been able to honestly express her feelings to others because she’s learned not to trust them and they’ve never actively tried to understand her more than surface level. But she’s a child so how is she even able to communicate this when the communication and understanding is the problem.

Overall I'm tired of people not seeing Leo for what she is and that is a happy child despite the struggles she continues to faced due to the disrespect, lack of effort from others and loneliness from having to struggle with all of this as a child.

[ultimateplaylistmaker]

How do you think Makoto`s and Nagito`s luck work?

*deeep breath*

*Slams my ruler onto the whiteboard* ALRIGHT

To understand Makoto and Nagito's luck, we must first understand Luck in the Danganronpa universe.

First off their are multiple types of luck, and not all luck talents are built the same. That's the first thing you need to understand, every luck talent is a unique personal talent to each individual. Luck talents can't really be compared because they're so different from each other and can even create other talents.

Case in point the true second luck talent we had in the series...CELESTIA LUDENBERG. While not the ultimate lucky student, her gambling talent is NEAR COMPLETE LUCK, something she FREELY ADMITS.

While this kind of thinking is more associated with Komaeda, it is actually CELESTE who first brings up luck as something beyond just chance, but instead as something more akin to religion. She even compares it to fate, Celestia will tell us in her FIRST free time event exactly what she thinks of luck. Which correlates well with Komaeda’s thinking. First of all the immutability of it, that you are simply born with that luck and nothing can ever change it, then there is the thought there is no inbetween luck it is only Good luck or Bad luck and it’s those two things that determine basically everything. Celestia and Komaeda have a very similar worldview, the only difference is the fact Celeste’s luck is only good and has such given her a much more positive view of it. Celeste seems to have spent a lot of time thinking about luck, and has a lot of faith in it, seen how in another free time events despite not knowing how to even play, she won a Shogi gambling competition.

While Celeste has a habit of exaggerating and dramatics, I think she’s telling the truth about this story, it matches up with her beliefs after all. No skill or talent carried her through to the end and to victory, just pure luck, her gambling luck that is the basis of her talent.

From this we learn that luck talents are much broader then just ‘lucky student’ and can make up a lot of different talents based on how it presents themselves with everyone having unique sets of luck and activation requirements. With both her and Komaeda sharing similar views on luck, it’s clear that those with lucky talents tend to find luck to be immutable and simply just a piece of ones self that can never be changed. Luck is everything to those with powerful enough luck, to the point it becomes almost blinding and overshadows skill, though Celeste seems to feel a bit ashamed that she didn’t at least make an attempt at having skill at Shogi. A little dog can’t become a big dog, and someone with bad gambling luck can never have good gambling luck and vice versa.

This isn’t true.

As you may have noticed if her gambling luck is that good that it overrides skill completely, then how did she lose? By how her talent works as long as it’s a gamble, she wins. Period. Nothing to be done about it. How did she lose the gamble of her life?

Easy, Makoto’s luck works as a luck nullifier.

You may be asking what the hell I’m talking about and I redirect your attention to the short story of Makoto Naegi’s Worst Day Ever.

“People often say that men are defined by their names, and indeed, in his thirty-two years on Earth, Jutarou had never once thought of himself as unlucky. In fact, he had been blessed with abnormally good luck. By the very nature of his work, he had found himself in a number of dangerous situations in the past, but every time—without fail—a series of fortunate flukes guided him to safety. 

While his luck could be considered one of his strengths, he wasn’t fond of admitting it. 

Rather, allowing himself to end up in situations where the outcome was in fate’s hands was unacceptable to him. He knew good and well that, in his line of work, even the smallest of slip-ups could mean disaster. 

Jutarou was a thief. 

The most important thing to him when he was on a job was reducing the potential influence of forces outside his control—luck, other people—to an absolute minimum. In his mind, a thorough, well crafted plan was the cornerstone of any job. He always formulated and executed his plans by himself, and any job for which that wasn’t possible, he wouldn’t take. There was nothing worse than being betrayed by a partner who let his greed get to his head, and besides, Jutarou didn’t need anyone slowing him down. And he especially didn’t need to be asking for help from on high. 

Naturally, his current job was no different. He had planned everything and put that plan into action all by himself. His target had been a small jewelry store in a nearby shopping district. Jutarou had received information that, despite looking run-down, the store had a hidden stash of extremely valuable jewels. And to top it off, the owner was a bit of a penny-pincher, so security was light. 

It was an incredible opportunity—the kind that you only ever got once or twice. 

So Jutarou crafted an intricate, but bold, plan, and then he went through with it. Naturally—as far as he was concerned—everything went without a hitch, exactly as it was supposed to. His plan was perfect, leaving no room whatsoever for outside interference. And there had been none. 

Spoils tucked away in his bag, he calmly stepped onto the bus. Jutarou liked to make use of public transportation as much as possible while on a job. It was easier to blend into the crowd in a bustling city by riding a bus or train than it was driving a car or motorcycle, and by dressing like a businessman on the job, he practically disappeared. 

The disguise worked, too. Not a person on that bus gave him a second look as he took an open seat at the front. 

Finally certain he had completed his work, Jutarou let out a small sigh of relief. As the bus vibrated gently beneath him, he silently basked in the satisfaction of a job well done. 

And then, a sick twist of fate made quick work of everything he had accomplished. Only, it wasn’t his luck that laid everything to waste—rather, he was just caught in the crossfire of some teenage boy’s misfortune. Some boy who just happened to climb onto the same bus as him. It was a stroke of bad luck so overwhelming that even Jutarou who, up to that point, had been blessed with such incredibly good luck, was helpless to prevent it”

Meet Jutarou who appears to have a luck talent of his own, the main antagonist in the short story. While he doesn’t like purely to rely on it, he notes that he is a very lucky man and multiple times in the story comments about how his luck never fails him. Until it does. Makoto Naegi’s bad luck was so strong, it had OVERRIDDEN his good luck, giving Jutarou bad luck to give Makoto WORSE luck. 

This trend continues throughout the story, despite Jutarou’s best efforts and best luck to get himself not arrested, Makoto’s sheer bad luck is enough to dissuade EVERY attempt as the situation only gets worse and worse for Makoto until it ends up with the groceries that Makoto was ORIGINALLY SENT TO GET ending up basically exploding. 

This incident directly leads into Makoto getting into Hope’s Peak, as his luck is SO BAD that in that same explosion the original lottery winners invitation gets destroyed and they do a new drawing, this time pulling Makoto’s name.

Luck talents have no effect on Makoto because his luck counteracts it, it doesnt matter how good your luck is, if Makoto’s luck wants to involve you, you have no control over the luck in the situation anymore. From this we learn Luck talents interacting with each other can have odd effects, especially if Makoto is involved.

There is a second piece of evidence that Luck talents aren’t quite as straightforward as “you’re born with it” and his name, is the mortal god himself, Izuru Kamukura

As Hajime Hinata, his luck is well, it’s not great, but I wouldn’t call it bad either. He’s average, very plainly average. Then he got a lobotomy and became Izuru, and suddenly something has changed. Izuru DOES have good luck, and he has an intense amount of control over his luck that he can even can beat Komaeda in a gun fight. Which means not only is Luck a real talent despite how Komaeda bemoans, it has some way to quantifiably measure and implant it as his Luck talent is just as artificial as the rest of his talents. Luck isn’t just chance or fate, it’s a legitimate part of someones body that can be implanted into someone else with the right tools. Which is, SO MUCH TO UNPACK. 

We don’t learn HOW they implanted luck, so we can only guess where luck resides within a human body. Wherever it is though, this implies while people are indeed born with a specific luck pattern that is otherwise immutable this pattern can be tampered and changed by an outside source with the right know how. Celeste is essentially correct in the fact humans are born programmed with the luck they have, but we lack the specifics. I am pointing a gun at the hope cultivation program if you’re going to break the geneva convention at least LET ME KNOW how you implanted fucking LUCK!

Luck is beyond just how we view luck in our world, luck is an inherent part of them, I’d dare to even call it another sense. Like a sense of sight or sense of direction, everyone has a sense of luck. Some don’t have much of it, some of them have little, and some of them have enough of it that it almost seems like a magical power.

Of course now that we have a loose understanding of how luck just works in this setting, this tells us little on how luck works for those two specifically.

Makoto’s luck is known to be the most confusing even in universe, as his luck is a liar. Bad luck often is good luck often is bad luck. It is impossible to tell if something is good or bad when it comes to his luck until like three years later after all the dominoes and butterfly effects have mostly settled. Celeste says there is no in-betweens but Makoto’s luck LOVES its grey areas. Making things be both bad and good at the same time, Makoto’s luck cannot be divided into good or bad because it’s always both at the same damn time. The only think about his luck that’s in any way clear is that it refuses to let him die. No matter how bad his luck seems, the moment he could genuinely die, his luck swoops in to grab him from the brink. 

Like yeah he lived thats good but now he has trauma and thats bad and now he can help and thats good but that helping is also being used as propaganda and that’s bad. Makoto lives in a state of greys, his luck refuses the black and white views of Celeste or Komaeda, everything his luck does will be both bad and good, creating mostly just confusion. It’s easy to see how Makoto just kinda shrugs it off as just unfortunate and moves on with his life, his luck keeps trying to be good and bad at the same time.

Then there’s Komaeda, who has only bad luck. Which you may be saying “what? But his luck can be good!” and I ask you how good his luck really is? His luck constantly kills the people around him and even killed him. Sure sometimes he gets paltry rewards like money or freedom, but in reality, the scales are NOT balanced. An inheritance can’t make up for dead parents, winning the lottery  doesn’t erase the trauma of being kidnapped.

Even moments where his luck seems to work in his favor only makes him miserable, winning russian roulette wasn’t a triumph or good luck for him really, it only drove him insane. 

If I had to name Komaeda’s luck I’d go for something like short term benefits with long term consequences. The bad effects of his luck always echo farther and go on for longer then the good effects which are often quick distractions or quick victories. However Komaeda lets himself settle for this, pretending like the scales actually have any meaning, letting himself have bad luck and thinking the small rewards of it measures up to the sheer amount of bad luck it took. 

Komaeda’s luck can give him the things he needs in the moment, but there is always consequences for it’s use. Komaeda pretends like it's an equivalent exchange, but actually looking at, even the 'good' parts often brings him suffering. Like yeah he's rich and has freedom, but he's lonely and unable to connect to people. Even the best parts of his luck are only good short term before also becoming more akin to bad luck.

His luck is basically a deal with the devil, he receives pain and suffering, and he receives... a whole bunch of sodas! Just ignore the fact the scars will last longer then the soda and you can pretend it all balanced out.

It’s easy to see how he fell into the viewpoints he did when he basically has to lie to himself to make his luck more tolerable or seem fair. Especially because unlike Makoto's, his luck seems perfectly willing to kill him if he's not careful.

Of course these are only my current views on their luck cycles, my mind and thoughts are CONSTANTLY changing on this, because it’s just, so nebulous. One of these days I’d love to do a luck deep dive on all the characters and see what other talents are secretly luck talents.

[girl8890]

Suga | Coffee Date

word count: 3k

Summary: Yoongi never expected to find the girl of his dreams in a coffee shop. Especially when one glimpse at her has him face planting into a wall… yeah, awkward.

Pairing: non-idol!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: first dates, meet cute, fluff!

Rating: T

Warnings: a lot of fluff, burning (from coffee), awkward moments, second hand embarrassment, Yoongi pining, one curse word

。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。

Finding love was never on Yoongi’s radar. He preferred his simple life of reading books at small cafés, and working his 9 to 5 job. Nothing too complicated like love seemed to always be in his books. That’s why he never tried looking, to his parents dismay.

Every blind date that anyone set him up with ended in failure - especially the ones his parents set him up on. And Yoongi continued not to look. Keeping his nose buried in his books, and only leaving his napping nest - his house - to get some fresh air. Air filled with the smells of coffee and fresh baked goods, that is.

His favorite café was one down the street from him called Minnie’s Muffins. It was a play on words because the owners name was legit Minnie, and she especially loved baking muffins. Nothing about the Disney character here, in fact, he’s learned through his many trips to this café that the owner hates Disney. Yoongi never really cared for the company either, but anyway, he liked going to that café because it was almost a hole in the wall place.

It was very rare that another person besides him would come into the café. He’s actually surprised how this place stayed open, but after a brief conversation with Minnie, he learned that most of the money comes from her husband. Best decision she ever made: marrying rich.

And that’s where he decided to go at 10am. He woke up a little early on his day off, picked out a book he hasn’t opened up yet, grabbed his wallet, then set out to walk to the store. It was a pretty sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky, but the wind was pretty strong. Him having to watch his own balance when he walked up the slightly steep hill while getting to the café.

The second he walked through those blue doors of the café, the smell of blueberry muffins hit his nose. He breathed in the wonderful smell of backed good, and let the doors slip through his fingers to close as he furthered into the café he loved so much.

As always, there was nobody there, but Minnie and her own worker that never seemed like he wanted to be there in the first place. Kyle is his name… Or maybe Keith? Yoongi isn’t sure, and he’s probably not going to last long enough for him to have to care. The person in question is still on their phone at the register even after Yoongi entered the store.

Yoongi doesn’t care who takes his order, or even if the guy’s on his phone, though. As long as he gets his usual order of black coffee, then he’s fine with any situation.

He walks up to the counter, waving at Minnie who just walked out of the back to throw some cookies in the baked goods display case. She was about to open her mouth to greet him, but then she sees her employee still on his phone with Yoongi in front him and she frowns.

“Koby-“ so that’s his name “-we have a customer! For the last flippin time… GET OFF YOUR PHONE!” Yeah… Minnie can be scary sometimes, but I guess the teenage employee is emotionless to her request like Yoongi also is watching this interaction.

The kid finally looks up from his phone, looks at Minnie, then looks at me. He looks back at Minnie to say to her an unapologetic, “Sorry,” then looks back at me. “What can I get you?”

“One coffee. Black, please.”

“He’ll also have a one of our new muffins!” Minnie says while putting the cookies in the case, not picking her head up as she speak.

Yoongi rolls his eyes but slightly smiles too. This is how it always goes with Minnie and him. He asks for only coffee, and she somehow worms him into buying a baked good every time.

“I’m okay, Min. I ate something before I got here.”

Minnie picks her head up from the display cases opening, wipes sweat from her forehead, then looks over at Yoongi with a pout. “But I just made them! I promise you’ll like them. There tangerine flavored.”

Yoongi goes to say no, but then he thinks about the flavor. Huh, never knew that could be a flavor for a muffin. “Okay, then one muffin please.”

Minnie pumps her fist in a way of saying, Yes! The kid types Yoongi’s order into the register, writes something down on a foam cup, then looks to Yoongi to read off the total. “That will be 10 dollars.”

Yoongi rests his book on the counter as he takes out his wallet in his back pocket. Handing the kid a ten dollar bill, and shaking his head when he tries to give Yoongi a receipt.

After Minnie hands him the muffin, he goes to sit in his usual spot while he waits for his coffee to be made. It’s the only spot in the restaurant that’s separated by a wall, but also has one of those big windows next to it. Yoongi sits down, back facing the wall, and puts his book and muffin down on the table.

He opens his book titled Spanish Daughter, and nibbles on his muffin as he reads. Loving the slight taste of tangerine the muffin has to it. He doesn’t even realize he got through a full chapter before the kid at the counter calls out his order. So, Yoongi uses a bookmark to hold his spot (because he’s not a creodont and folds the corner) then goes to pick up his coffee at the pick up counter. Right when he walks up to the counter, he hears the door of the café open and close behind him.

He raises an eyebrow to himself, surprised another customer has come into the café for once while he was there. Paying it no mind, he picks up his coffee and tries to ignore the person that just walked in. Hopefully it’s not a overaly talkative person. He hates when they always want-

As soon as Yoongi turns around, his entire world is tipped over. The second his eyes look over at you, it’s like everything else has disappeared. There’s somehow a romantic song playing inside his head, and even though his feet are still moving he can’t take his eyes off you.

For the first time in a long time, maybe even his entire life, Yoongi is captivated by a women he doesn’t even know. From the way your hair falls down your back, to the way you scrunch your eyebrows together as you look up at the menu. For the first time in his life, he wants to find out what’s in a person head and every single thing you’re thinking about behind those beautiful clear eyes of yours.

His eyes roam your figure, starting from the cute way you cross your ankles even though you’re standing, up to your exposed shoulders in your spaghetti strapped sunflower dress. He’s never found shoulders attractive before, but right now he’s thinking-

The first thing Yoongi feels is the smack to the face from a hard surface, and the next thing he feels is a high burning sensation on his chest through his shirt. He yells out a “Ack,” and takes his eyes off you to see what he’s just hit into, and realizes he was so captivated by you that he actually hit into an actually wall!

He turns and sees everyone in the café is staring at him, even the kid that was just looking down at his phone a moment ago is raising an eyebrow at him in confusion. Minnie is looking at Yoongi equally confused, and you look at him neutrally with a hint of concern.

“Are you okay?” You ask as you walk over to him, digging into your purse for some spare napkins to give him.

Yoongi’s ears heat up at this embarrassing situation. First, he can’t believe that he just walked into a wall because of you. And second, his chest is now really starting to hurt. Either from the burn the coffee is giving him or because you just walked up to talk to him.

Not knowing what to say, Yoongi just lets his mouth open and words that aren’t real words flow out, “I - yeah - jamba do pretty.”

He thinks he meant to say, you’re really pretty, but is did not sound anything like that. Making his red ears turn into a red neck to match now because of his own furthering of embarrassment.

You raise an eyebrow at the guy in front of you, not understanding a word he just said. “Huh?”

“I-I mean…” He breaths in, trying not to further embarrass himself. “I mean, I’m okay. Thank you.”

You then smile at him, hand him the napkins to clean himself off, and walk away. All the while Yoongi is staring at your back and watching. It’s not until Minnie’s jaw drops from behind the counter, and Yoongi sees her in the corner of his eye, that he wakes up from the trance you put him in.

Minnie mouths to him, Oh my god. To which Yoongi just rolls his eyes and shakes his head. With one last long glance your way, he turns around to head to the bathroom at the back of the store, so he can wash off the coffee that’s undoubtedly stained his shirt and has broken his pride.

———

By the time Yoongi exits the bathroom, the coffee stain has somewhat gotten out of his shirt, but the shame of it all still linger. He sees you at the table near his, not the one near the wall that Koby is now cleaning up, but the one next to his. You have your own book and coffee in hand, leaning against the back of your chair.

His lips part when he spots you, watching you take a sip of your coffee, and he’s still unable to wrap his head around how someone as beautiful as you exists in this world. 

He doesn’t stop looking at you until a foam cup is wiggled in front of his face. A smirking Minnie holding that cup of coffee that she remade for him in hand. Yoongi’s eyes widen for a second in surprise, then he thanks her for remaking his coffee as he takes it from her hands.

“You know, you could just go talk to her,” Minnie suggests.

Yoongi’s eyes go wide again, but this time more because he’s freaking out by her suggestion. Him and girls don’t mix. In fact, he prefers those two equations to stay far away from each other. He doesn’t know the first thing about girls, never mind talking to one!

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi hisses at Minnie, grasping his coffee a little to hard and making it spill. Yoongi relaxes his hand, not wanting to make a part 2 of the spill saga that happened before.

“Wo there, Yoons. Didn’t mean to upset you,” Minnie is looking at Yoongi a little different now. She’s never seen him this flustered before, and in a way… it’s kind of endearing. Besides his books and small conversations about movies that him and Minnie talk about, she doesn’t know what his dating life is like. Or anything else about his life, actually. She cares about him, though, and wants to see him happy. And right now, the girl that ordered a mocha late with skim milk seems to be making Yoongi’s heart do somersaults of happiness. “Just go sit down, and compliment her on her dress or something. You don’t need to ask for her number or anything.”

Yoongi’s continues to glower at her next suggestion, but it’s not a bad one. He’s not in high school anymore, he’s almost in his thirties. He should be able to talk to a girl.

“Okay, fine. Yeah, I got this.”

“That my boy,” Minnie says and then pats him on the back. She then goes back behind the counter, readying a muffin to eat while she watches her friend and favorite customer begin his own love story in her café.

Yoongi takes a deep breathe, then walks back over to his seat. You’re literally in the set of table and chairs right next to him, obviously opting for it since he took the best seat, reading your book without a care of him being there. He sets his new cup of coffee down, and slides into his seat, trying his best not to look over at you to long and look like a creep.

He watches you take another sip of your coffee that looks a little more fancy then his now that he sees it up close, and he swallows past the lump in his throat. He takes this moment to look at the book your reading, and he’s surprised to see you’re reading a book he’s already read and enjoyed.

“Skin of The Sea is a good one,” He states. Mentally patting himself on the back for not stuttering like an idiot this time.

You look at the guy that smashed into the wall before over your plastic cup when he obviously is talking to you, and then set the cup done. “Ah, yeah! I like fictional books like this.” You glance down and see the book Yoongi is reading in front of him. “Haven’t read that one yet,” You say pointing to his book. “Any good?”

Yoongi glances down at his book, completely forgetting he even went to this café in the first place to read it. “Ugh - yeah! I only just started it, though, but seems good.”

You nod your head in understanding. “That’s coolio.”

Yoongi then watches as you pick your book back up after a few seconds of silence stretches between the two of you. Clearly you thinking your conversation has ended there, and he just wanted to give a comment on your book. Yoongi did the compliment thing, but now he doesn’t know what to say next! Minnie should have couched him more. Or maybe Yoongi should have paid attention more when his high school friends talked about flirting with girls. Either way, he didn’t know what to say.

He opted for opening up his book, so he didn’t look like a creep by just staring at you again, and then started thinking up ways of what to talk to you about.

He didn’t flip a single page of his book for the next hour. It wasn’t until you started packing up your stuff, bookmarking your page in the book (10+ points for you in Yoongi’s book), that he decided to say something else.

“T-thank you… for the napkins before.”

Thank you for the napkins before? Really Yoons? Both Yoongi and Minnie thought at the the same time.

You look down at wall smasher guy - a nickname you gave him in your head - and sent him a small smile. “It was no problem. I hope you’re okay, though”

Yoongi nods his head a little to enthusiastically, excited that you’re actually furthering the conversation. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. My head was just in the clouds, I guess.”

Yoongi tries to play it off, but even to his own ears his excuse was stupid. You bought it, though, as you lean against the table you were once sitting at. Understanding completely what he’s saying, and also understanding that this conversation is going to take a minute. “I get that. Sometimes I don’t even realize my mind wonders sometimes.”

He watches the balls of your cheeks heat up, embarrassed by what you just admitted. Yoongi, on the other hand, finds your confession and the blush completely adorable.

“No - yeah - definitely…”

As you can tell, Yoongi is great at this… Not!

You fold your lips within each other, trying to also think of something else to say. Before you can think about something else to say to wall smasher guy, you hear your alarm on your phone go off. You take it out of your pocket and switch it off, pocketing your phone again right after.

“Hey, um - I got to get going. I have class in thirty minutes, so…”

Yoongi nods his head in understanding, but he can’t help his sadnesses that passes over his expression from hearing you have to leave. “No problem. Have a good class.”

You smile at him, then begin your retreat out the door. It’s just what you’re about to push the front door open, that you pause for a second. The guy is cute, and it’s clear that he’s interested in you too. You both are clearly book worms and a little awkward in conversations. And, if your suspicions are correct, he’s probably even a advocate coffee drinker like you. Already so much in common, and you can’t think of one other time a guy has stuttered over you!

You look down at your coffee that’s half way gone, and use it as an excuse to go back over to him. Throwing away the plastic cup in the process and staring down at a surprised Yoongi with confidence.

“My names Y/n, by the way. I-in case you were wondering.”

Clearly your good at the conversation thing too… again not! 

Yoongi smiles a little when he hears your stutter, a little glad he’s not the only one flustered in this situation. “My names Yoongi, but most people call me Yoons.”

“I’ll stick with wall smasher,” You giggle out, but your cheeks still heat up even though what you said was clearly a joke.

Yoongi face palms at the joke, though. Getting embarrassed by the whole ordeal all over again. Without taking his face out of his hands, he says to you, “That’s forever going to haunt me, isn’t it?”

You shrug your shoulders, but he doesn’t see you because his face is still in his hands. You decide this little boost of confidence can only get bigger, so you then say, “Nope. And I’ll prove it when you bring me on a coffee date next.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, taking his face out of his hands to stare up at you. Did you just-

You take out a little notebook from your purse, ripping off a strip of paper from it, and then write your name, and number down and then place it on the table in front of him. With a raised eyebrow and smirk plastered on your face, you ask, “Do you except the challenge, wall smasher?”

Does he accept a coffee date with you? Um…

“Fuck yeah.”

You giggle in response, and it’s music to Yoongi’s ears.

-

-

-

The End

[daughter-of-melpomene]

gotta know everything about via! also u & me 🤝 winchester half-sister ocs ✨ via and jude should vibe. and via and kat can have curvy girl solidarity.

what’s her relationship like with the brothers and her dad? what about with bobby? what’s her favourite animal? does she accessorise her stuff (phones, laptop, etc)? what monster is she most and least afraid of? — @xoteajays

AHHH, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING ABOUT MY BABY, TJ!!! I am also gonna tag @endless-oc-creations and @aceyanaheim since they also asked about Via’s relationship with her brothers, and @goldheartedchaoticdisaster and @ginevrastilinski-ocs because I know they love my girl. <3

Her relationship with her brothers:

Via’s relationship with Sam is actually pretty sweet, considering that they didn’t even meet until Via was fifteen and that first meeting was the first time Sam had even been made aware that she existed. It’s a bit awkward at first, sure, but they bond pretty quickly over being Certified John Winchester Haters, and even though Via isn’t very good at research or the more academic parts of hunting, she’s very fascinated by it and is always willing to listen to Sam’s rambling. They also get to bond later on over being Winchester siblings with inhuman powers (or magic, in Via’s case), and overall their relationship is just really sweet and awesome siblings.

Her relationship with Dean is… a lot more complicated than with Sam. They’ve known each other for several years longer than Via and Sam have, but since, as I said, Via absolutely hates John and can’t understand how blind Dean’s faith in him is, and Dean sees Via as being ungrateful that John took her in and taught her something as noble as being a hunter, so they get into a lot of arguments. They definitely get better about that, though, as Dean slowly starts to see John for who he really is, and even when they didn’t get along they would have done anything and given their lives to protect each other - after all, Via is Dean’s baby sister and Dean is Via’s big brother who was her only source of comfort during the darker days after John took her in, and at the end of the day that’s just how Winchester siblings work. (Plus, they eventually get to bond over being in love with angels, and Via’s the one who eventually helps Dean to realize and accept that he’s bi, so while their dynamic is sweet in a totally different way than her and Sam’s is, it is still sweet.)

Her relationship with her dad:

Oh ho ho. When I tell you that Olivia Winchester hates John Winchester with every fibre of her being, I am not kidding. She didn’t hate him from the first moment they met, certainly, but she didn’t exactly ever love him - she wasn’t sure what to make of him when he first picked her up, not understanding why he had never tried to seek her before if he had known she existed. And then he pretty much immediately tells her all about the supernatural existing and starts her training as a hunter, and as soon as she realizes that he and Dean aren’t just crazy, all that confusion turns into resentment, which then turns into hatred. She hates that John cares so little about her mother, so little that he doesn’t even remember her last name when Anne cared enough to give her daughter his last name, and she hates that he forced his children to become his little soliders rather than letting them have a normal childhood (a hatred which only grows when they meet Adam and she learns that he got to live normally), so much that she only ever refers to him as John, never Dad, and only sometimes sir through gritted teeth when he forces it out of her. John, in turn, thinks she’s a defiant, ungrateful little shit and strongly regrets ever taking her in… so, yeah, their relationship isn’t great.

Her relationship with Bobby:

Oh, you mean the guy she wishes was her dad? And who also wishes he was her dad? Yeah, she and Bobby really love each other. They first met shortly after John took Via in, when he dropped her off at Bobby’s house because he was going off on a hunt with Dean and she wasn’t ready to go along with them yet. From the very first moment Bobby laid eyes on that skinny little girl with bags under her eyes from all the nightmares she’d been having, he swore that he would always protect her, even as she got older and sassier and more capable of protecting herself. They tend to trade sarcastic, witty banter back and forth whenever they meet up, and sometimes they really do annoy each other, but Via would still go to Bobby’s house whenever John sent her away for annoying him, and she associates the taste of the shitty dollar-store tea he bought just for her with warmth and love, and they’re both the only person besides the boys (and, later, El) that the other will accept hugs from. Just like with Sam and Dean, Bobby is Via’s dad, no matter what DNA they both have and no matter if either of them ever acknowledge it. (Which they do, anyway. Once or twice Via’s even done it in front of John, both because it’s true and to watch the vein pop out in his forehead.)

Her favorite animal:

Oh, Via loves bats. They are her absolute favorite things ever, besides her sawed-off, and she would very much keep one for a pet if it was safe and allowed. She thinks it’s super cool that they’re the only mammals that can fly and the only flying creatures with thumbs, and besides that, she just thinks they’re the most adorable little guys ever. Dean thinks she’s weird for it and Sam very seriously worries that she’s going to try to pet one one day and have to get a rabies shot, but she’s never going to let that stop her.

Does she accessorize:

Listen. Via is totally a stickers girl in a life that does not very often allow for stickers. She loves them, especially the cool personally designed Etsy ones with Vine quotes and stuff on them, and she’ll buy ones that catch her eye at truck stops and gas stations when she can, but she doesn’t really own a lot that she would be able to decorate with them. Sam does let her put a few that he approves of on his laptop, though, and eventually after she comes out to her brothers, Dean pays someone to sew a lesbian flag patch onto her favorite denim jacket for her birthday. So she does get some opportunities to accessorize, even if it’s not as often as she’d like.

What monster she’s most afraid of:

Very definitely vampires. For as much as she makes a bunch of Dracula jokes whenever they go up against some, it really scares Via that these blood-suckers are so vicious and that there are so few ways to kill them, and that you have to actually get up close to cut their heads off most of the time, which she hates.

What monster she’s least afraid of:

Probably ghosts, although that still depends on the type of ghost and how angry a spirit they are. Mostly, though, they’re pretty easy to deal with and can’t cause too much physical harm, so Via’s usually relieved when they get a ghost case because it’s something of a break from all the shit they usually have to deal with.

Again, thanks so much for asking about my girl!! It means a lot. <3 <3

[lovewolf27]

Harry Potter is BLIND AU

1. Not only the killing curse failed to kill Harry and gave him a scar, It also weakened his eyes that made him partially blind, and it cannot be temporarily removed even when drinking Polyjuice Potion to mimic people who can clearly see.

2. Harry’s eye are still green as Lily’s but they are milky white of shade

3. Harry’s scar has lichtenberg figures that stretched down on his white-ish green eyes

4. Harry can see colors and shapes but it is vague and blurry, his vision isn’t completely darkness

5. Dumbledore asks a muggle-born friend to translate all of Harry’s list of Hogwarts textbooks to braille copies from each upcoming school term in advance so he can read them when he starts attending school. He cast the Feather-light charm on them since braille books are heavy and bigger than normal books, Dumbledore already started the translations process after he delivered Harry in the Dursley’s house.

6. Mcgonagall learned how to use a braille machine to send Harry Potter his hogwarts acceptance letter that he can read after Dumbledore told her that Harry is blind and there is a machine that allows blind people to read letters through touch

7. Hagrid gave him a magic cane in his eleventh birthday (Invented by Dumbledore) that helps him detect and perceive vibrations in the world around him than his regular cane, Thus stopping him from ever tripping again on small things as long it touches any solid surfaces (like Toph from the Avatar)

8. Harry carries a brown shoulder bag with Extension charm to carry all of his large braille school textbooks in classes 

9. Harry didn’t have to attend Astronomy class at all because Dumbledore gave a logical explanation to Prof. Aurora Sinistra that he can’t study or learn anything from the subject when he couldn’t observe the night sky since he's blind. Same goes to Flying lessons in his first year. Harry has extra free time. 

10. Hermione taught the Weasley Family on how to use the braille machine to type letters to Harry (Molly was furious when Arthur tried to bewitched it to make it write letter automatically without typing) 

11. Harry doesn’t want to wear sunglasses to hide his scarred eyes because he doesn’t want people around thinking he wants to look cool, Instead he wears a white blindfold, Modest boy he is as always

12. Harry has an enhanced sense of hearing that is far greater than average where he can hear any type of sounds at different frequencies from any distances to the point that he can hear people’s gossips below the castle even when he is inside the common room. People sometimes ask him for top secret information he has heard from the teachers “Professor Mcgonagall said…that she will focused our lesson about  practising the Vanishing spell for tomorrow”

13. Harry knows when people are lying by hearing their heart rate spiked. Many find it uncomfortable because they can’t hide anything from him

14. Harry can identify and remember which person he ever encountered not with their voices but their own heartbeat. Everyone's heartbeats are uniquely different and Harry can hear the difference in all of them. Not even polyjuice potion or metamorphmagus can hide their identities from him

15. Harry has a tendency to asked when meeting friendly people what they physically looked like, Ron just say “red hair and freckles” but Fred and George would rather say they are both “handsome and gorgeous” and Lee Jordan is “sexy”

16. With his Parseltongue, Harry befriended a small yet highly intelligent snake that hangs around his neck that relays him everything with good detail if he missed or doesn’t “see” it on his cane, For example. The snake tells him where to grab the correct ingredients in his table during potion class in case he accidentally grab the wrong one, “Grab the lacewing flies in your left…Not that one” or it will described his professor’s wand waving demonstration in class “Flitwick waved his wand in a circle then straight line motion” or tells him the signage of the buildings “Harry the sign said gringotts ” or tells him any incoming flying entities “There’s a bludger heading your way from behind in 3…2…1..Dodge”

17. Hermione is more than happy to read aloud the lesson on their library books for Harry when they are studying new spells and knowledge together, His snake gets tired of reading the contents sometimes

18. Harry has Audiographic memory that gives him the mental talent to perfectly memorise the things he has heard before in great accuracy which he easily received an Outstanding grade in History of Magic by remembering Prof.Binn’s boring words even when he's not interested in that subject at all. Harry doesn’t need a notebook to write anything to remember them like the others

19. Instead of Quidditch, Harry is more interested in participating in a duelling club then many years would lead him to join the Annual Duelling Championship like Professor Flitwick, Daily Prophet went nuts about it ‘CHOSEN ONE BECOME A DUELLING CHAMPION OF BRITAIN!’ ‘BLIND WIZARD DEFEAT FORMER CHAMPIONS IN AMERICA!”

20. Harry had always been underestimated by many people just because he is blind, But he is good at duelling by detecting the faintest sound and vibrations to locate enemies to his own advantage in any given surroundings

21. Hermione and Ron greatly helps Harry buying his clothes when shopping, Fred and George tried to tricked Harry to wear a black t-shirt with a skull on front, but Molly stopped them

22. Harry is still sassy “I’m so glad enough to be blind, So I don’t have to see your stupid face, Malfoy”

23. Harry is still savage “Sometimes, I heard people said your ugly, Professor Snape…In the corridor, SIR”

24. Many of Harry’s classmates are jealous of him because they have to frustratingly write all of the important lessons by hand while he doesn’t, permitted by every teacher. Few sort of wished they were blind too. 

25. Dumbledore hired Remus to have him write Harry’s answer during his NEWT, OWL and Homework papers at weekends. His pet snake tells him the question and Harry would thin then slowly and clearly say his answers while  Remus truthfully writes, erase and changed it for him in his parchment, They always do it somewhere private (Hogsmeade) because Harry finds it embarrassing to have someone write his answer beside him while class, Hermione took over after Remus is unavailable because duties for the order, ‘Truthfully written by Remus Lupin/Hermione Granger for Harry James Potter’

26. Harry created a new Jinx that makes a stunning flashbang against his opponents, Not even shield charm can stop the blinding bang of light 

27. Harry’s cane automatically returns him by saying “Accio cane!” Even without using a wand if he ever lost it or someone stole it. 

28. When others inside the trophy room in the Goblet of Fire accused him for putting his name on the goblet, McGonagall fiercely defended him by saying, “Potter cannot have written his name on the goblet because he is blind!—Ahem—No offence to you, Potter”

29. Veela’s attraction can’t affect Harry since he can’t see them 

30. Molly occasionally stops Harry when he is cutting ingredients expertly to cooked food by because she thought he will cut himself by accident, He finds this annoying but understands her motherly worries all the same, Harry tells her that he can handle sharp knives safely, Molly accepted this but Harry can still hear/sense her from behind the corner, watching him anxiously if there’s any blood leaking from his fingers, Turns out he is a decent cooked in the kitchen

31. Harry invented pellets of highly condensed peruvian instant darkness powder with the help of Fred and George who supplied him with free peruvian darkness powder, One pellet is enough to obscure the size of a Great Hall. Harry uses it effectively in battle against enemies in a large closed area where they won’t be able to see anything while it doesn’t make any difference to Harry for his advantages

32. Harry can sense and hear traces of ancient magic 

33. Sirius gave him a shiny gold pocket watch that tells the time when he asked for it. 

34. Harry can transfigure his cane into a sword in case of close combat. It was forged with goblin-silver, therefore indestructible and can absorb any properties to make it stronger like the sword of Gryffindor, Harry had to pay the goblins a lot of galleons to make it

35. Harry and Hermione would start a program in the Ministry of magic for young witches and wizard who are blind by giving them their own magic cane and Harry taught them to use their sense of hearing, touch and smell to get around in life and asked them to taught other someday after them while Hermione would introduce the use of the braille writing system to magic community. Hogwarts traditionally gives them the entire translated hogwarts textbooks in braille version on each school term and hired trusted writers for them during NEWT, OWL and Homework tests on papers since they can’t write.

36. Hogwarts eventually created a new section in the library that translate all the library books available into Braille version for blind students

37. No one can ever sneak up to Harry Potter

38. Harry’s once said “It’s hard to be afraid when you can’t the scary monster in front of you”

39. Harry decided to improve the old pirate radio programme ‘PotterWatch’ after the war to become the official new way to receive daily information than just reading old fashioned newspapers and magazines like the Daily Prophet and Quibbler so he and other blind folks can hear any news about the wizarding community in Britain easily. Hermione requested a few brilliant muggle-borns to help by combining muggle’s radio station equipment with magic to expand the new station and distribute small radios in every household. Harry hired Lee Jordan to become the main broadcaster and he is having the time of life “Good evening! beautiful ladies and gentlemans! We have a special music here at the station to play for today for all of you to hear which was sing by none other than the talented…Celestina Warbeck!!!” and “Today, We have here is a famed magizoologist named Luna Scamander for discovering a new magical beast found in Africa, Let’s hear what she has to say for the amazing discovery!”

40. Eventually the wizarding world became familiar with Britain's popular radio program and kindly requested them to expand it in other nations which Harry approved of. Then so on the ‘PotterWatch’ became the official radio program in the entire wizarding world. Every radio around the magic communities has the logo PW to honour Harry’s heroic deeds and inventions as his eternal legacy. Rita Skeeter immediately lost her reputation because nobody reads her scathing articles anymore (Serves her right!)

41. The PotterWatch station of Britain is heavily controlled and protected by the Potter-Weasley family clan rather than the Ministry to prevent it from ever being corrupted like the time when Fudge and Voldemort used the Daily Prophet to target Harry. Rose Granger Weasley became director of the PotterWatch then she will pass the position to another Potter-Weasley family member if she retires someday. 

42. Harry Potter and Hermione Weasley made a permanent agreement with the Ministry of Magic that by law to ensured the PotterWatch will forever stayed independent and controlled by the Potter-Weasely family clan to stop the Ministry from using it to spread misinformation and lies without a strict review and consent by the current director if the Ministry wanted to wanted to publish any information in the magic community 

43. The Weasley’s Wizards Wheeze joke shop uses the family’s PotterWatch to advertise their new products and inventions, then in return they financed the radio station whenever needed since the Ministry does not associate with the PotterWatch by law.

I THINK I WENT OVERBOARD A BIT

[strangenewfriends]

"WHAT IS GOING on here? Why are idiot fans throwing stuff during live shows? It’s reached a crisis point in the past couple weeks—a disturbing and loathsome epidemic of fan aggression against performers. On Wednesday, Kelsea Ballerini got hit in the face when a concertgoer threw a bracelet at her—just the latest case of a female artist assaulted in the middle of a show. Why is this happening, and how do we stop it? 

Ballerini was in Boise, Idaho, doing her country-pop hit “If You Go Down (I’m Goin’ Too),” when the bracelet came out of nowhere and hit her face, right near her left eye. She left the stage, but then returned to finish her show. “Can we talk about what just happened?” she said, in admirably clear terms. “Don’t throw things, you know? I just always want shows of mine—every show, for every artist—but I’m in control of this one. I just want it to be a safe place for everyone. Can you help me do that tonight?”

It’s not an isolated case. Bebe Rexha needed three stitches after she got hit by a thrown iPhone at a NYC rooftop show on June 18, and posted a photo of her frighteningly bruised and bandaged face. The alleged assailant, a 27-year-old man, told police, “I was trying to see if I could hit her with the phone at the end of the show because it would be funny.” He also helpfully explained, “It’s a TikTok trend.” Oh. 

Two days later, Ava Max was assaulted by a man who crashed the stage at an L.A. show and slapped her in the face. She posted, “He slapped me so hard that he scratched the inside of my eye.” A couple days later, in London’s Hyde Park, Pink got interrupted mid-song by someone throwing a bag of their dead mother’s ashes. A true pro, Pink asked, “Is this your mom?” Then she put down the bag and said, “I don’t know how I feel about this.” 

It can’t be overstated how much this sucks. Miley Cyrus recently declared she doesn’t feel safe doing arena shows anymore. As she explained, “There’s no connection. There’s no safety.”

Ballerini posted an update to her Instagram Story on Thursday, saying, “hi. i’m fine. someone threw a bracelet, it hit me in the eye, and it more so just scared me than hurt me. we all have triggers and layers of fears way deeper than what is shown, and that’s why i walked offstage to calm down and make sure myself, band and crew, and the crowd all felt safe.”

How did we get here? These are important artists with things to say and music to make. It’s not their job to explain why idiots shouldn’t throw things at them onstage. But it’s simpler than that—they’re human beings. What these incidents have in common is a bizarre lack of respect, a main-character neediness for attention, a child’s ignorance of boundaries. This isn’t fan enthusiasm going overboard—this is hostility disguised as fandom. 

So: it’s weird that this needs to be said, but don’t throw things at the artist, mmmmkay? No matter how soft and fluffy it seems. A cute li’l stuffed animal turns into a weapon if it hits somebody, as happened to Lady Gaga in Toronto last fall. A bracelet can do serious damage. Somebody threw a lollipop at David Bowie in 2004, in Norway, and almost blinded him. A lollipop. Nobody wants concerts to turn into airport-security hellholes with body-cavity searches. Your elderly loved ones do not need the aggravation of amending their wills to say, “BTW, after I die, if it ever seems like a cool idea to bombard a hard-working music legend with the remains of my incinerated corpse, switch to decaf and think again.”

Why now? So much of it comes down to the pandemic. People got out of practice at going to shows, so they forgot how to be audiences. Or else they just started their concertgoing years now, without having learned from being part of an experienced audience. But in 18 months of isolation, the whole fan culture around live music shut down—the traditions, the habits, the manners, the codes of honor, the spirit of “act like you’ve been there before.” It was a disastrous loss for music and the community around it. When live music returned, some fans were desperate to get back into the action, but without remembering the details of how to handle themselves in an IRL crowd. That’s how you get a grown adult boasting he threw a piece of metal at a celebrity to join a “TikTok trend.”

But this wave of fan aggression evokes those horror stories from the Seventies, like the notorious 1971 incident when a London concertgoer pushed Frank Zappa off the stage, putting him in a wheelchair and nearly breaking his neck. Or when “some stupid with a flare gun” burned down the Montreux Casino, inspiring Deep Purple to write “Smoke on the Water.” (Respect to the late great Funky Claude, who ran back into the burning building to pull kids out.) Over time, audiences gradually learned how to be cool in a concert crowd, until the coronvirus. So there’s a lot of Some Stupid going around.

There’s always been a certain etiquette for live music. It’s taken a beating in the social-media age, as more people treat the live show as a backdrop to stage click-chasing viral stunts.

But it’s unquestionably gotten worse post-pandemic. Last summer, Kid Cudi walked out on the Rolling Loud festival in Miami. “I will fucking leave,” he warned the crowd. “If I get hit with one more fucking thing—if I see one more fucking thing on this fucking stage, I’m leaving. Don’t fuck with me.” Someone then hit him with a water bottle—and bragged about it on Twitter, because of course he did.  

Tyler the Creator issued a public plea last year for concertgoers to stop throwing things. “I don’t understand the logic of throwing your shit up here,” Tyler ranted mid-show. “Not only for safety reasons, but bro, I don’t want your shit. I don’t want it. Like, I’m not even being funny. Every show someone throws something up here, and I don’t understand the logic. Why do you think I want your shit? Then if I slip and break my foot? Stop throwing that fucking shit up here, bro!” He went on to say, “Fucking dick-fuck.”

But that message was evidently too subtle for some folks. Steve Lacy stopped a New Orleans show in October when somebody hit him in the leg with a camera. Lacy said, “Don’t throw shit on my fucking stage,” then smashed the camera and left. Rosalia got hit in the face with a bouquet of roses, in San Diego. “Please don’t throw things on the stage,” she tweeted (in Spanish). “And if you’re such motomamis that you throw them anyway, throw them on the opposite side from where I am.” Harry Styles, whose live vibe is the essence of generosity and openness, has gotten his boundaries invaded by Skittles-tossers and chicken-nugget-hurlers. Nobody could blame him for being less than okay with it. 

There’s always been a tradition of acts who encourage fans to throw their bras, panties, or flowers. That’s just consensual show-biz. A Tom Jones concert wasn’t complete without tipsy ladies pelting him with their hotel room keys. When a fan threw a bat onstage, Ozzy Osbourne assumed it was a rubber toy, so he playfully took a bite—then became the first rock star ever rushed to the ER for rabies shots after a dose of batflesh. Punk rockers often thrived on the dust-ups. At the Sex Pistols’ famous final gig, Greil Marcus reported that the band got hit with “ice, cups, shoes, coins, pins and probably rocks.” Johnny Rotten complained, “There’s not enough presents. You’ll have to throw up better things that.” Immediately, someone threw a rolled-up umbrella. Johnny replied, “That’ll do.”

But during the pandemic, for many fans, their primary source of human contact was social media, where there is no perk for non-asshole behavior and nothing but rewards for finding novel ways to be a dick. There are so many incentives to create a viral moment, so it seems acceptable to interrupt a show to make strangers notice you. Throwing your phone at something to get its attention—you wouldn’t do that to a squirrel, much less a human, so why would anyone do it to an artist they’ve paid money to see? But social-media culture breeds a new kind of fan mentality defined by parasocial resentment, where fandoms feel so possessive about their faves, they get outraged when their fave doesn’t live up to their demands. It takes a toll on simple human empathy. Our whole culture picked up so many toxic habits it will take years to unlearn.

It doesn’t have to be this way. Almost exactly two years ago, I saw a symbolic return for live music when Madison Square Garden reopened with a super-emotional Foo Fighters show. It felt like all of us in the room were figuring out from scratch how to be fans again. I described it at the time as an “invitation to start remembering how to celebrate together.” Needless to say, the return of live music turned out to be a lot messier than that—lots of stops and starts, lots of conflict and controversy, lots of fear and grief and anger. 

But this is the first summer when it’s felt like live shows are really back. My music summer began a month ago with Taylor Swift on her Eras Tour. I saw The Cure and Dead & Company on back-to-back nights, two tribal gatherings that felt like the most uplifting kind of communal devotion. In the past couple weeks, I’ve seen loads of brilliant punk rock (Protomartyr, Wednesday, the Dolly Spartans, the So So Glos, Bar Italia), comeback gigs from old-school heroes (The Feelies, Love and Rockets), and a Beatles tribute band, the Fab Faux (damn fine “Martha My Dear”). It’s time travel, hitting so many different eras of my life as a music fan—past, present, and future. I’ve been trading stories with friends having similar epiphanies this month at Joni Mitchell or DJ Premier or LCD Soundsystem. We were all hungrier for this than we even realized. 

The mass rapture of the live show—it’s a fragile temporary community that comes together for a night. Whether it’s in a sleazy bar or a basement or a stadium, it’s a place we go so we can experience those raptures in the dark with strangers, to be part of a story that doesn’t happen when we’re listening by ourselves. But those moments don’t happen without a certain level of mutual trust and respect. And they can’t even begin when the performer can’t trust the audience. We’re all in the crowd for the same reason—to create that space where this rapture can happen. But it’s not something the artists or the industry can conjure up on our behalf. It’s on us to be an audience that the performer can believe in. That’s really where the music begins."

[teecupangel]

After reading the bottom of the FE crossover post now I'm thinking about Desmond taking Azura's position of Nohr noble taken captive by hoshido and pushing Azura into more third party territory

From @shadowpack12

Please can we get a fanfic of Desmond in FE: Fates. Please! I’m begging

I cannot write a full fic for this but I can make up ideas. I hope that will be okay :)

The FE: Fates idea that this is talking about is the bottom part of this FE x AC idea I had.

I know you said Nohr royalty but hear me out.

Okay, so in this scenario, we’re going full on isekai’ed Desmond but with an additional caveat. He deages to the same age Corrin is when she was kidnapped. And, in this case, we’ll go further and make him the twin brother of Corrin (up to you whatever gender Corrin is) who Garon was unable to kidnap together with Corrin.

In this one, we can set it up with the idea that Desmond doesn’t remember anything and people around him believe that he has amnesia because of the trauma of seeing their father die and his twin kidnapped while he ran away.

Desmond isn’t sure if this is necessarily true.

It was also possible that he had been reincarnated as this prince who is also called Desmond (although it would probably be more accurate that people around this part call him Desumon… but they sound the same more or less anyway).

Desmond knows he has a missing twin and he is worried, absolutely worried, sure, but, at the same time, he was in a young child’s body with no real information about the world.

So…

He had no choice but to focus on growing up and learning everything he has about this world.

When Desmond turned fourteen, he starts to have dreams of a woman with flowing blue hair and wearing a white dress.

She would always be singing by the lake.

The dream would always stop before she turned around.

Fifteen years since Desmond had woken up in this world…

The dream changed and he finally sees the woman turn around.

And the first thing she ever spoke to him was…

“Please… save everyone.”

Before Desmond could say anything, he wakes up…

To one of servants informing him that his vassal Kaze has returned…

… with his long lost twin.

Unorganized Notes:

Since every royalty needs to have 2 retainers, Kaze will become Desmond’s vassal. In this situation, Kaze will be one of his retainers (sorry, Corrin). His other retainer would be Shura who Desmond took in when he saw guards of Hoshida deny him entry.

Desmond also took in all the other refugees and survivors from Kohga. Mainly because he couldn’t turn a blind eye to them but also… because he knew that their skills as ninjas would help him make his own Brotherhood.

Of course, there’s a bit of a “???” on the timeline considering Kohga was invaded by Mokushu before the Nohr-Hoshido conflict so either we tweak the timeline or we change this with Desmond making contact with Shura and the other survivors a few years afterwards. Either way, his relationship with Shura is more of a partnership where Shura and the other Kohga survivors and refugees are under Desmond’s protection and Desmond promised that he’d help them take back their country.

So Desmond had actually been in the process of making plans to take care of the Mokushu (and Kotaro) while creating his own Brotherhood when Corrin ‘returns’ to Hoshido.

Desmond knows he’s not blood-related to them but he still calls them his siblings. He and Ryoma respect one another but Desmond’s usual “I’ll throw away my honor if it means I can save people” makes him butt heads with Ryoma at times, mostly because Ryoma is worried just how ‘far’ Desmond is willing to go. Saizo is always serious and polite around him and Desmond likes to joke around just to poke at him. Saizo is also very hard on Kaze and always remind him to make sure to protect Desmond. Kagero is usually more reserved but she’s also the one who keeps trying to remind Ryoma to ease up on Desmond because she knows that Ryoma is trying but Desmond tend to misunderstand his words at times.

Hinoka and Desmond are close and Desmond sometimes treats Hinoka the way Ezio treats Claudia. Lots of teasing and light-hearted conversation. Hinoka is the one who always tries to remind Desmond to not take Ryoma’s words too seriously. Azama gives Desmond a headache at times but they’re not in bad terms. Desmond also worries a lot about Setsuna because of how reckless she can be.

Takumi has double the inferiority complex this time around because of Desmond and Ryoma being leagues stronger than him. It’s also annoying for him because Desmond talk to him a lot because Desmond could see Takumi’s inferiority complex a mile away and tries to help. He’s not sure if he’s actually helping and he’s acting the way he wished someone had acted around him with his own inferiority complex (and Desmond has loads of it considering he feels inferior to three Master Assassins and one Grand Master, add in a sprinkling of thinking William Miles is always disappointed at him). Oboro and Hinata both see this and they always love it when Desmond visits Takumi. Oboro is also the one who made the Assassin robes under Desmond’s ‘designs’ which she updated to feel more Hoshido-esque with Desmond’s approval. Hinata likes to spar with Desmond and uses the time they spar to talk about Takumi and how much they’re worrying about him. Desmond suggested they try treating Takumi more as a friend than their ‘boss’ as Desmond think Takumi might be lonely. The two are trying… with varying success.

Sakura loves Desmond and likes to call him ‘big brother’. Sakura actually grew up with Desmond taking care of her a lot of times (because Desmond likes to play hooky). It’s because of Desmond’s influence that she hides a dagger in her clothes and she knows how to use it. Sakura would probably be the most ‘changed’ among the royalties. Her personality is pretty much the same but she’s less shy and there are times when she can perfectly mimic Desmond. It usually means someone really bad is about to die. Hana has a crush on Desmond. Desmond knows it but he sees Hana as a little sister and treats her like, patting her head and such. That only makes Hana’s crush harder and Desmond finally understood how Altaïr felt towards Kadar. Subaki is always polite around Desmond and Desmond tries to make him ease up a lot but it’s taking a lot of time which Desmond is fine with.

(I skipped the other Hoshido characters because Desmond would probably not have met them until the start of the ‘main story’).

Speaking of which…

Corrin chooses Nohr in this situation and the Yato actually splits into two with Corrin receiving one and the other going to Desmond.

Desmond is driven by revenge as well but he also knows that Corrin’s devastation over the death of their mother is real which is why he tries to get more information while staying in Hoshido’s side.

After he meets Corrin once more, he doesn’t dream of the woman with blue hair but…

He receives her pendant at the same time Yato splits into two.

Desmond cannot transform into a dragon and no one knows why.

This one would feel like it’s going for a Conquest and Birthright route at the same time then will pull into the Revelations route after Desmond and Corrin finally talk (both of them trying to minimize the death count).

Once they get to Valla, they’re greeted by a message made of water from the blue haired woman who calls herself Azura. She tells them the truth… She made a deal with a ‘god’ from another world to pull the soul of a newly departed ‘hero’ into their world and to turn back time. That soul was Desmond. She did all of this because the real Corrin chose a path paid with blood (although it’s not clear if she chose Nohr or Hoshido) but the real enemy managed to push the world into a ‘bad ending’ of some sort even after all those sacrifices. In exchange for her ‘spot’, Desmond became Corrin’s twin. The message ends with Azura requesting them to defeat the true enemy of this world and bring true peace.

Azura is alive but she’s somewhere in Valla, only able to leave message to guide Corrin and Desmond that she had prepared beforehand so the two also made it their mission to find Azura as well.