#still not sure what head unit to get either... if i even need one after getting a GPS navigation

[andthebubbles]

boxing day sales suck compared to black friday sales...

anyway, got me the second pair of maxtrax, this time in pink because for once the non-orange colours are cheaper than the orange ones. i already have a pair of orange ones. i think pink and orange will go together nicely! (i would’ve gotten red if supercheap auto sold red, but they don’t, so yeah.)

also got a tyre repair kit. 

aaaaaaaand then i started considering the maxtrax rear wheel harness, but it’s not massively on sale anywhere so i was like, nah... it can wait... bc idek if i want the maxtrax on the back of the tyre or maybe on the roof rack (for now)

speaking of roof racks, i’m still not sure which one to get, but only rhino rack has a small sale so i’m just, whatever

emailed tracklander asking if their 1650mm ladder can be attached to a rhino rack or a frontrunner rack lololol, i mean the tracklander roof racks are UGLY

am considering the garmin overlander, but i swear the black friday sales were better for that... i didn’t write down anywhere the cheapest price i saw though, so i can’t be sure

no sale on travel buddies

no sale on ERP or sound deadening either, so i will just bite soon for both, because i really need the car to stop deafening me at 100kmh, and to do that i need sound deadening, but i don’t think i can put sound deadening on until after i’ve done the ERP (electronic rust proofing)--unless someone would like to correct me.

anyway, yeah! that’s kinda what i looked at.

[lightseoul]

can you make one for number 4? (⁠^⁠^⁠)

sure, i can! thank you for participating, sweetheart <3 hope you like this one—it was fun to write!

(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)

4. "DO I MAKE YOU NERVOUS?" (0.8k)

you pad your way to your small living room, two mugs of hot chamomile tea in tow, diligently trying not to spill any on your pristine, tiled floor.

but not as much as you’re trying to steady your hammering heart.

the perpetrator of your impending cardiac arrest remains unaware of your plight, however, seemingly relaxed with his right arm resting on top of the backrest of your two-seater couch.

upon seeing you approaching, he sits up ever so minutely, but his arm stays put.

“thanks,” he mumbles as you carefully place the beverages on the tiny coffee table in front of you.

“sure,” you retort, voice pathetically wobbly, and for a second you just stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do with yourself.

bakugou’s eyes drift up to look at you, questioning. “aren’t you going to sit?”

“r-right!”

gingerly, you plop yourself down beside the man, purposefully making sure there’s an appropriate enough distance between the two of you.

a few moments pass with neither of you saying anything, the air so unusually tense you could cut it with a meat cleaver. you find yourself toying with the hem of the boxer shorts you hastily threw on while bakugou did his business in your comfort room upon your arrival at your apartment unit.

the very unit he’s visiting for the first time.

with tonight being the first either of you has ever visited the other’s home.

alone.

so, yeah—maybe the looming heart attack is a bit warranted.

“…this is your place, right?”

your face contorts in a mix of offense and confusion before you can think better against it. “of course, it is!”

“then why do you look so fucking stiff?”

at the call out, it suddenly dawns on you how tense your body is, spine straight in a rare occurrence of you having good posture. you roll your shoulders back in an attempt to relax a little, still finding yourself unable to look the pro-hero in the eye.

beside you, bakugou huffs, before muttering: “and are you saving some space for the holy spirit, or something? fucking glued to the armrest…”

you can’t help it—you snort at his petulant comment. this grants you a light shove from the man, who doesn’t need to move much to do so what with his wingspan being abnormally wide.

“quit laughing at me, dumbass.”

it takes you a few more seconds to get the chuckles out, and you’re finally lulled into a comfortable silence soon after. mustering the courage, you chance a glance at bakugou, who’s apparently already been looking at you.

“what?” you ask, feeling overly self-conscious.

he studies you for a while longer. “are you really going to sit like that for the rest of the night?”

you’re really going to have that fucking stroke.

“why?” you manage to get out, “where do you want me to sit?”

again, bakugou lets out an exasperated sigh, as if this entire exchange is tiring him out. “do you need me to spell it out? get fucking closer.”

before you even get the chance to get flustered at his command, bakugou grabs you by the hip with one, strong hand, unceremoniously pulling you flush against his firm chest.

instantly, you feel yourself flame in embarrassment, mind barely registering the brazen display of confidence and strength. you find yourself trying not to focus too much on the comforting heat radiating off his frame, or how his toned torso feels so solid against your skin.

or, perhaps most importantly, the fact that he just doesn’t seem to get nervous around you as you do around him.

you don’t get to dig too deep into that, though, because bakugou reaches out and gently tugs your head down against his chest, effectively snapping you out of your trance.

but that’s when you hear—and feel—it.

stunned, you jolt away from the man, who startles ever so slightly you would’ve missed it if it weren’t for the way you’re staring at him in absolute shock.

“what the f—”

“do i make you nervous?” you blurt out before you can talk yourself out of it.

bakugou’s face scrunches up, “what?”

“your heart’s beating so fast,” you point out. “or at least i think it is.”

bakugou doesn’t say anything for what feels like an hour, before he throws his hands up and turns away from you, opting to face the TV instead. “so fucking what. sue me.”

you can’t help the grin that takes over your face at the sight, a tinge of pink now resting on the high planes of the pro-hero’s cheeks.

bakugou side-eyes you, face sullen, “the fuck are you grinning about?”

“nothing,” you sing-song, looping your arm around his in a burst of new-found confidence. “just found out i make pro-hero dynamight nervous.”

at that, he scoffs. “that’s hardly an achievement, dumbass. i’m your fucking boyfriend.”

[tlou-reid]

Cheese Danishes ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

♡ SUMMARY: aaron is struggling to navigate his feelings, and his fears, as his relationship with his younger graduate student neighbor progress

♡ WARNINGS: smut (piv) mdni, oral (fem recieving), fingering, fluff, angst mentions of criminal minds-esque violence, mentions of haley and george foyet, age gap (mid 20s/mid 40s)

♡ NOTE: the timeline on this is wonky when compared to the show. in my head, aaron and jack did go into witness protection and left for a while, but once foyet was caught aaron returned as unit chief to the BAU. so the team is made up of the people in the later seasons, including prentiss, but aaron is still in charge.

Part one

—♡

Aaron pulled your body tighter against him amidst the start of the season’s first snowfall. “Thank you,” he mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline. It wasn’t very often he allowed himself to stay after you two had been intimate, only after he had been away for a rough case. You basked in the attention every time.

As much as you wanted more, your relationship with Aaron has been primarily physical. You could count on one hand the amount of times you two had a connection outside of sex. It wasn’t necessarily his ideal either, but life gets in the way when you’re pulled away to attend to serial killers every week, in between spending time with your son.

You two lay together for a while, not saying anything. This was the time you used to pretend things had turned out the way you wanted them to. Of course, you lusted over him when you first met. Something about having a sexy, older neighbor fulfilled a fantasy you didn’t know you had. But, over the months you got to spend with him, both before and after your drunken declaration of interest, your feelings for him had evolved.

You’d learned how much more he was than his stoic exterior. He was gentle, like the way his calloused hands caressed your hips as he pulled you into his lap while you made out. He was funny, constantly teasing you for your abnormal habits. He was kind, making sure you were safe and sound before he retreated to his home.

But, most of all, he was distant. Physically distant a good portion of the time, being needed in different parts of the country at any given time. Mostly, he was emotionally distant. It was as if something was tormenting him most of the time, keeping him from truly giving himself to you. Even when he was buried deep inside you, it was as if there was a gap between you, preventing any real connections.

He gave you an even tighter squeeze, warning you he would be leaving soon without using words. You hoped he didn’t notice the way your body tensed back up when he did this, knowing how empty the house would feel in just a few minutes. He let out a familiar sigh, before pressing one more kiss to your forehead. “I should probably head back,” he spoke his usual phrase into the darkness of your bedroom. You nodded against his chest before pulling yourself away from him, allowing him to get up.

He noticed the way you pulled your comforter closer, trying the replace the warmth he had been providing. Aaron’s heart broke, wanting to crawl back next to you and hold you close for the rest of the night. For the rest of his life, if he could.

But, he couldn't. He knew that. If he allowed himself to be honest with you, to tell you all the ways he has fallen for you since you showed up on his doorstep with a container of desserts, he would ruin everything you had. Whether it be from him not being able to handle his own emotions, or something as terrifying as George Foyet, something would ruin the sparse nights he got to spend with you. He came with too much baggage, too many ways you could be hurt, to allow himself to have everything he wants.

So, he slips back on his pressed slacks and buttons up his white shirt. He moves quietly, trying to convince himself you are falling asleep, not worrying about what he is doing. Your soft voice ruins this, “Let me know when you get home,” you say, as you do every night he’s here. He lets out a sound of agreement, even though he knows he won’t do it.

The room falls quiet again as Aaron tries to find his suit jacket. He uses his phone flashlight and sees the arm sticking out from beneath your bed. He quickly bends over to grab it, hoping you don’t hear the way his hips creak as he lowers himself. Throwing his jacket over his arm, he finally makes his way to the door. He’s one step through it when you speak again, “Aaron?”

“Yes?” he replies quietly, ignoring how timid your voice sounds. “Maybe we could get lunch or something soon?” Your heart beats against your chest, reverberating in your temples as you ask. It doesn’t make sense. You have no problem letting him know when you’re soaking through your panties because of the lewd photo he sent you, but you’re on the verge of a panic attack as you ask if he’d like to have a meal with you.

“Yeah,” he nods, actually meaning it. He would love to have lunch or something with you. Of course, no one knows if it will ever actually happen. “Cool,” you let out a sigh of relief, “I’ll text you.”

“Yeah,” is all he says as he closes your bedroom door, making his way back to his house. Your body shivers with both chill and loneliness when you hear your front door close.

Aaron’s shoulders were slumped as he made the trek across the street. He threw his jacket over his shoulders, but not putting his arms through the sleeves, to try and protect him from the cold. This year’s winter had come in full swing this week, with the first snowfall happening tonight. He couldn’t make out where the little hand on his watch was, but he knew it was some time after midnight.

He was carrying a lot of guilt and he had no one to share it with. He couldn’t tell you because the repercussions could result in you losing your life, the same way Haley did. He couldn’t tell the team because they didn’t know about you. And that was all of the adult people in his life, pretty much.

His key turned in the door and he let out a sigh. He’d forgotten to turn his heat on when he left for the last case, so it was freezing inside. He stopped in the hallway to change the thermostat, before making his way to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, letting it properly heat up before he began to remove his clothes.

The cold he was feeling was both literal and metaphorical. The chill air burned his skin, opposite from the way your warm touch soothed it.

Aaron felt like he was on autopilot as he cleaned himself, put on his warmest pajamas, and made his way to his bed. It felt bigger than it did before he left. He fell asleep pretty quickly, both from the strenuous case and the orgasm he had not that long ago.

The next morning, you were woken up by the sun casting through your window. You had forgotten to close the curtains last night. You reached for your phone, seeing two messages from Elise. ‘Meet us for brunch?’ and ‘Bring your old man ;)��. The “us” in question was her and her new girlfriend, Annie. They were a cute couple: they seemed like they were made for each other.

You texted back, asking about the time and place, choosing to ignore her second message. When you got up to get ready, you couldn’t help yourself from peeking to see if Aaron’s car was parked across the street. It wasn’t, so you pretended like you didn’t consider asking him to go to brunch.

“Alvez,” Aaron’s voice cut through the chatter in the room. Everyone stopped what they were doing, focusing on the glare on Aaron’s face as he continued, “Stop.” Luke had been teasing Spencer, making the entire team laugh. Luke didn’t answer, knowing it wasn’t worth messing with him anymore. The entire team had picked up on the attitude Aaron had been carrying around lately. There was no more room for teasing in the BAU, as he always seemed angry nowadays.

As the team finished debriefing their last case, Emily lingered inside the meeting room. “Hey, Hotch?” She questioned, usually being the advocate for the team. Aaron didn’t answer but shifted his attention away from the files in front of him and to her. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“Just fine, Prentiss,” he lied, becoming embarrassed under her harsh stare. “Hotch,” she cut through the silence again, “we both know that’s not true.” As much as she was trying to be sympathetic, her prying was just pissing him off. “What is going on in my personal life is none of your concern.” He ended the conversation bluntly, not wanting her to pry anymore.

Like a dog who had just been scolded, Emily made her way out of the room. Hotch lingered for a little longer, hoping the team would disperse before he made his presence known again. He pulled his phone from his pocket, thinking over what Emily was saying to him. Something was wrong, but nobody could fix it. Nobody but you.

Your phone dinged from its spot beside you, and you tried to not let your professor see you reach for it. Sure, you were a grown woman who was allowed to be on your phone, but you didn’t want to seem rude by being distracted from his lesson. You set your pink pen on top of your notebook and lowered your phone into your lap. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you saw the message was from ‘Aaron &lt;3’.

It had been about four days since he left your house and he had not texted since. You refused to text first, not wanting to appear desperate. ‘Hello, I am dropping Jack off at a friend’s at 6:30. Could I come over after? I can order us dinner.’ You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. You quickly typed out a reply, ‘My class ends at 5 and I have to stop by Elise’s to pick something up. Meet at my house at 7?’. He replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

Your leg excitedly bounced throughout the class, willing the clock to move faster. Your notes were messy due to your brain moving faster than your hand could go. When the professor finally wrapped things up and asked for any final questions, you shoved things into your bookbag, knowing you’d regret it the next time you needed something from it. You were the first one out the door.

You tried not to speed as you drove to Elise’s. You were picking up a new dog bed that Anna was getting rid of. Your dog, Jackson, would love it. You left yourself in her house, yelling out to let her know you had arrived.

You had not been completely honest with Elise. You had told her your relationship status with Aaron was complicated, which was half-true. It was very complicated, but also very non-existent. You rushed through your interaction with her and Anna, ignoring the joke she cracked about you having a hot date.

You arrived home close to 6:45 and immediately made your way to your closet to throw on something nicer than the leggings and sweatshirt you wore to class. You used the extra time to clean up around the house.

Aaron knocked on the door at 7:00 on the dot, making you giggle at his punctuality. “Hello,” you smiled at him as you opened the door. He said his greeting and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. You could feel your face warm up at his actions. When he came in, you two settled on the couch, catching up on the things you had missed in each other’s lives.

“Is that new?” Aaron asked, putting at the large dog bed Jackson was resting on. Your heart swooned at him noticing such a small detail. “Yeah! Elise’s girlfriend, Anna, was getting rid of it. She fosters dogs most of the time but she had to stop after the last one got adopted because her dad moved in with her. He’s sick, so she spends a lot of time taking care of him.” Aaron nods in understanding, “You spoil him, huh?” You giggled at his answer, knowing most of your paychecks went to funding Jackson’s expensive lifestyle.

It didn’t take long for you to wind up in his lap, his hands gripping your ass. He was holding you close, pressing his tongue into your mouth. Aaron had a lot of skills, and kissing was probably one of his best. When you pulled away to breathe, he made quick work of moving his lips to your neck, sucking on the tender spot beneath your ear. You let out a gentle moan, moving your hands from around his neck to tug on his hair.

Your moment was interrupted when your stomach grumbled, surprising Aaron. He pulled away, looking up at you with wide eyes and puffy lips. You giggled out an, “I’m sorry.” Aaron soon joined you in your laughter. “You said we’d order food! I haven’t eaten since breakfast!” You smiled, enjoying this sweet moment with him.

He tapped your side, signaling you to get off of his lap. He reached for his phone, “What do you want to eat?” You two scrolled through your options, settling on a local pizza place. Your stomach grumbled again after he placed the order.

It didn’t take long for the pizza to arrive, and you two watched silly YouTube videos while you waited. The evening was filled with giggles and greasy pizza. It was everything you wanted with Aaron.

Once your bellies were both full and the paper plates had been thrown away, you two resumed your position on the couch. You were back in his lap and his lips were back on your neck. His hands were tight against your hips as you rocked against his cock, which was growing hard underneath you. The room was filled with languid sighs and deep moans as you made out.

His hands slid up your sides, moving to pull your shirt off. You separated for just a second, just long enough to lift your shirt over your head. Once it was thrown by the brand new dog bed, Aaron’s large hand was reaching up to cup your bra, quickly aggravated by the material blocking your skin. His hands moved to unclasp it, not letting his lips leave yours. The bra joined the shirt, and Aaron brought one of your nipples into his mouth.

The rough skin of his right hand felt like heaven on your right breast, eliciting moans of his name to fall from your lips. He was leaving deep, purple marks around across your tits, fueled by the sounds you were making. The light tugs of his hair had him painfully hard in his dress pants. 

You pulled away to look him in the eye, “Bedroom?” Aaron shook his head no, lifting your body to lay flat on the couch. “Wanna take you right here,” he rushed through. Stoic, well-spoken Aaron Hotchner was reduced to slang like “wanna” in these moments with you.

From his spot between your legs, he kissed down between your chest, down your stomach, to the waistband of your pants. He looked up at you, asking for permission to take them off. You nodded and your pants quickly joined your ever-growing pile of clothes. “Aaron?” He let out a ‘hmm’, entranced by the wet spot in your panties. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” This broke him out of his spell and he stripped himself down to his boxers.

His hands made their way under your thighs and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your clothed sex. “Take ‘em off?” You nodded at his words, lifting your hips so he could pull them off. As soon as your panties were off, he licked a long strip up your slit.

You let out a moan as he began to bury himself into your pussy. His tongue delved into your hole and his nose nudged your clit. Your hands flew to his hair, pulling him closer. You weren’t sure if he could breathe with how he was pressed into your pussy, your juices spreading all over his chin. Once your grip on his hair relaxed a bit, he pulled his face away. As he slid two of his thick fingers into your hole, he said, “Taste so good, honey.”

As soon as he finished his sentence, he moved down to use his tongue to draw little figure eights along your clit. You let out a loud moan, “Aaron, ‘m gonna,” you cut yourself off with another moan, “gonna cum.” Your thighs held him in his spot as you reached your high. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t move from his spot as you came on his fingers.

His fingers didn’t stop as he rode you through your orgasm. Once your thighs relaxed, he brought himself up to you. You could see the way your juices glistened on his chin as moved himself to kiss you, then you could taste them on his lips.

“Taste yourself?” He asked. You felt your pussy clench at his filthy words and gave him a shy nod. He smiled, before resting his head in the crook of your neck, pressing more kisses into it. Your arms came to wrap around him, holding his bare chest against yours. You two stayed like that for a little bit, basking in each other’s aura.

“Gonna fuck you now,” He informed, lifting his body a little. He looked you in your eyes, making sure you were still okay with it. You nodded, reaching down to align his dick with your entrance. He kept his eyes on you as he pushed in, noticing the way your eyes rolled back when he bottomed out.

Aaron’s cock wasn’t too long, but the thickness of it left a satisfying burn inside you. Aaron wasn’t one for an intense sex life. He was mostly content with missionary, enjoying the closeness and eye contact that came with it. You’d begun to get him out of his shell, testing things like riding him and doggy style throughout your three months hooking up.

His thrusts were deep and slow, drawing out the delightful burn in your pussy. After your previous orgasm, the stretch of his thick cock was almost enough to send you over the edge again. Everything about him was intentional, especially the way he held your legs so he could angle himself to hit the spot inside you that made your toes curl.

“Faster,” you moaned out, needing more. “You take what I give you,” he demanded, letting his rare dominant side come out. He knew you liked that by the way you clenched around his cock, squeezing him just right. It only took a few more strokes for him to start increasing his speed, never wanting to displease you.

He was chasing his own high, bottoming out with every deep thrust. You could feel the way you were leaving a ring of your arousal at the base of his dick. “Aaron,” you sighed out, trying to let him know you were about to cum again. While you couldn’t get the words out, he could tell by the way your muscles were beginning to tense up and you were letting out higher-pitched moans.

The way you clenched his dick had his orgasm following close behind your own, allowing him to ride you through your high. He let out a deep sigh as he came down, burying himself back in the crook of your neck. He placed gentle kisses along your neck as your hand drew loving circles along his shoulder.

You willed him to keep his head buried in your neck so he wouldn’t see the way your eyes began to fill with tears. It’s not that you were sad, or even disappointed. There was a deep longing feeling in your chest. In your heart, you knew this was where you wanted to be, but, in your brain, you knew it wouldn’t last.

Aaron let himself lay there with you for a while. He didn’t move as his dick softened inside of you and as your loving caress left goosebumps in their wake. Despite the chill in the room, he was comfortable.

A few moments pass before he pushes himself off of you, making his way to the bathroom to clean up. When he reappears in the living, he asks “Do you want to take a shower?” You eagerly accept his offer, getting up to guide him to your master bathroom. He smiles behind you as you turn on the water.

You’re very surprised at his actions but scared that if you mention how different he’s acting, he’ll stop. He usually doesn’t stay to clean up with you, besides retreating to the bathroom. You both step into the shower, muscles relaxed by the hot water. Aaron flinches away from it. “Too hot?” You ask, forgetting that not everyone takes scalding hot showers.

“I’ll get used to it,” he compromises. It’s a tight fit, but you both make do. He’s the first one to reach for the wash rag. Soaping it up with your lavender-scented body wash and bringing it to your shoulders. He allows himself to enjoy washing you, taking time to massage and caress your skin. He moves gently and lovingly, as if he would break you if he pushed too hard.

Despite the amount of times you had sex, this shower was the most intimate thing you and Aaron had ever done. It would’ve been easy to convince yourself that you two were a couple, one that is deeply in love and would never hurt each other. However, you could never do that because of the gnawing knowledge of his future departure. You weren’t a couple and he would be retreating to his home any minute now.

Aaron let you stay under the warm water as he washed himself, both of you opting to not worry about washing your hair tonight. You stepped out first, grabbing a towel off of the rack attached to the shower. You wrapped it around yourself, moving to get Aaron one from your towel closet. He enjoyed the warmth of the shower while you were gone. Once you appeared in the steamy bathroom, he turned off the water and wrapped himself in the towel you handed him.

It was quiet for a moment, both of you just enjoying the presence of each other. Aaron was rubbing the towel, trying to dry his hair when he spoke up, “I don’t believe I have any clothes here. Do you have any you think could fit me?” You were gobsmacked at his words. Luckily, you weren’t facing him, so he didn’t see the way your mouth dropped in surprise. You quickly turned around to face him, “Are you staying the night?”

“Is that okay?” He sounded awkward, not really knowing what to do. Sure, he’d left every other time, but he thought it would be okay since you spend so much time together anyway. He was trying to be better than he was before, trying to overcome the fears that had been keeping him from truly being with you. “Of course it is!” Your voice was excitable again, almost as lively as it was the day he met you. “I think I have some sweatpants, I can look.”

Your heart was pounding as you left the bathroom to dig through your dresser, seeing if there was anything you wouldn’t mind Aaron keeping. He followed behind you, settling on the edge of the bed. He was distracted as you looked, admiring you in just a fluffy towel. He wished he saw this side of you more often.

Once you found an old, gray pair at the bottom of your third drawer, you tossed them at him. You got dressed and he slipped them on, choosing to forgo underwear rather than put on the precum-stained ones from earlier. “What do we do now?” You asked sweetly, not really knowing how to go about this sleepover, but excited to have it nonetheless.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He suggested, subtly pointing at the TV hung on your wall. “Sure! What kind of movies do you like?” You asked him as you moved to sit criss-cross on your bed. He chuckled at your cute demeanor, “Me and Jack tend to watch action or comedy, but I love a good romcom now and then.” This sent you into a fit of giggles, picturing Aaron curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, and ‘When Harry Met Sally’ being the only thing illuminating his face in the dark room.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about that,” He said with a fond smile on his face. He laid down, leaving space for you to curl yourself against his side, tucked right into his armpit. You felt like you belonged there. “I just didn’t realize you were such a softie,” You said with a few more giggles. He shifted his head down to look at you the best he could, “I can be.”

You two settled on ‘Do Revenge’, playing into Aaron’s apparent love of chick-flicks. You two got comfortable under the covers. About halfway through, Aaron heard your gentle snores filling the room. He reached across you to grab the remote and turn off the TV. He reached back over you to put the remote on your nightstand, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he settled himself down, falling quickly into a deep slumber.

The next morning, you woke up to an unfamiliarly cold room. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, looking at the messed up bed. Your gaze followed the blanket that had been thrown around to an empty bed.

Your eyebrows crinkled in confusion, remembering that Aaron had spent the night. A part of you hoped when you got up, he’d be making breakfast for you like the husbands always did in the cheesy romcoms you two talked about last night. The other part of you knew he had left.

To confirm your suspicions, you made your way to the living room, trying to ignore the steadily increasing beat of your heart. You made your way to Jackson, who was asleep in his brand-new bed. You sat next to him, tears filling your eyes. His clothes were gone. Even the stupid sweatpants you let him borrow. Jackson snuggled closer to you, almost providing the warmth Aaron took with him when he left.

You let yourself lay there for a while, dwelling on the hurt in your heart. It wasn’t as if this was unexpected, but he could’ve had the decency to not lie to you. You explicitly asked him if he was staying the night and he said he was. How could he just leave? As if your time last night didn’t mean anything? As if any of the nights you two spent together didn’t mean anything?

You were forced to get up when you heard your phone alarm going off in your bedroom, indicating it was time for you to get ready for work. You had a busy day ahead of you that would consist of work and catching up on homework. You didn’t have time to worry about a man who wasn’t worrying about you.

You felt numb throughout your whole shift. You ignored Elise’s texts asking you to go out tomorrow, considering you hadn’t had a Friday night out in a while. You ignored pretty much everything, burying yourself in your tasks. You were on autopilot as you drove home. You quickly took care of Jackson, taking him on a brief walk and feeding him. You went out your back door and followed it until you knew you couldn’t see Aaron’s house. You didn’t want to think about him, and you definitely didn’t want him to see how sad you were.

You did homework for the rest of the night, ignoring the world around you. You didn’t turn on the TV or look at your phone once. You took another scorching shower, basking in the burn it left on your skin.

You went on like this for another day. It wasn’t until you returned home from work late on Friday night that you had to come face-to-face with your feelings.

It was actually your choice. No one forced you to slam your car door as soon as you saw Aaron get out of his in his own driveway. No one forced you to stomp your way across the street. No one forced you to yell his name.

No, you were solely guided by your own anger, your own sadness, to approach him. You didn’t know who was around, and you didn’t really care as you started yelling at him. “Fuck you,” You spit out first, “You said you were staying. I wanted you to stay. But you fucking left. I was going to make you breakfast, you know that? The best fucking baker around was going to make you breakfast. But you left. Without saying goodbye.”

You didn’t normally cuss, or yell, really. The anger you felt became too much and you were talking before you could really think about what you were saying. Your eyes started to fill with tears. “Y/N,” he interrupts. He wasn’t yelling at you, more raising his voice so you’d let him talk. “I didn’t want to leave you.” He confesses, a guilty look spread across his face.

You’re instantly quieter and the tears start falling as you speak. “You didn’t?” You quietly question. You wanted to be angry. You wanted to scream and cry and cuss at him so he could feel just a little bit of the hurt you felt when you woke up yesterday morning. But that wasn’t in your nature. You were good and kind and sweet, not mean and nasty.

“No, honey, of course not,” He speaks softly, taking a few more steps towards you. You let him rest a gentle hand on your shoulder as he continues, “I got a call from Jack’s friend’s mother. They had snuck out and gone skateboarding. Jack fell on his arm and they were on their way to the emergency room. I had to meet him there.”

Guilt started to fill your chest as you listened to his explanation. “Aaron, I’m so sorry,” You breathed out as he pulled you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he spoke, “There’s no need to be. I should’ve called you but I got distracted with work.” You nodded against his chest. He held you as you calmed down, letting your tears subside. “I’ve got to run, we’re leaving for a case and I forgot my go-bag,” You nod at his words, “Be safe, please.”

“Of course,” He said as he started taking a few steps backward. He turned around and made his way to his door. His hand was reaching out for the knob when you called his name. “What are we?” You asked the dreaded question that had been weighing on your chest. It seemed childish, but there was no other way to phrase it. You hoped he wanted to be in a relationship. You hoped he wanted you the same way you wanted him.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” He said as he made his way back to you. “I owe you a conversation, that’s for sure.” You nod at his words, “When can we have it?” You asked, knowing he needed to leave for work. “I’ll text you as soon as we wrap up the case.” You nod again as he makes his way back to his front door.

He’s the one who turns around this time, calling out your name. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “For everything that happened before. I’m going to make it right as soon as I get home.” You give him a soft smile and a gentle nod before turning around to make your way home. 

It takes a full week for the team to wrap up the case. Reid and JJ ask if they can spend the night in Phoenix, not wanting to be on the jet at three in the morning. However, Aaron vetoes this immediately, knowing he needs to be home as quickly as possible to talk to you.

He texts you while Luke drives the SUV, letting you know he will be boarding shortly and to expect him to be over sometime in the morning tomorrow. You’re fast asleep and do not reply, but Aaron knows you’ll see it in the morning. 

And you do. You check your phone first thing in the morning. Usually, your Saturdays are spent catching up on missed homework throughout the week, but today you immediately made your way to the kitchen. When you are stressed, this is where you usually find yourself. You threw on the “kiss the cook” apron Elise had given you a few Christmases ago, pulling up the recipe for raspberry cheese danishes you had seen online the other day.

You had just put them in the oven when you heard the knocks on your door. Aaron had gotten just a few hours of sleep before he made his way to your house. His heart was beating in his chest as he waited for you to open the door.

All of his nerves quickly dissipated as he saw you in your apron. He smiled at it, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a kiss before either of you could even say hello. You giggled when he let you go, opening the door wider so he could come in. You were glad he greeted you the way he did. It took away some of the awkwardness that was looming over you due to the conversation topic.

“It smells phenomenal in here,” he complimented as he made his way to the dining room table. He sat down at the of the table and you settled into the seat on his left. “I’m sorry I had to run the other day, duty calls.” You nodded in understanding at his words. “Did you think about my question?” You asked timidly, wanting to get the conversation started so it could be over sooner.

“I did,” he said with a thoughtful nod, “I’m not quite sure how I would define us if I’m being honest.” His answer left you speechless. Not in a bad way, and certainly not in a good way, but in a way that signaled that you didn’t know how to reply. “I mean, I don’t know how I would define us back then.” He continues on.

For the first time since he kissed you when you opened the door, he made eye contact with you. “I would like to define us as a couple now if that is alright with you.” He didn’t miss the smile that quickly spread across your face and the way you started to twiddle your fingers. “Aaron Hotchner,” You let out an overdramatic gasp, “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

Aaron laughed at your theatrics, “Yes, I am.” You immediately threw yourself in his lap, pressing a kiss to his blushed cheek. “I would love to!” He could feel you smile against his face as you threw your arms around his neck. He let you love on him for a little bit before you made your way back to your seat. “I think there are a few things I have to tell you first, though,” Aaron informed again and you noticed the way his body tensed up. You didn’t say anything, creating a safe space for him to get anything he needed off of his chest.

“Ever since the day I barged in after you left me that voice message, this is what I wanted. I wanted to kiss you when you greeted me at the door. I wanted to watch cheesy films with you. I still really want all of that,” He let out a deep breath, “but I come with a lot, Y/N. Even just being with me puts you in danger. My last relationship ended due to my job, and I lost her. My wife, she, uh,” His eyes began to well up with tears.

You reached your hand out to hold his, understanding what he was trying to tell you. His wife, Jack’s mom, had died because of something related to his job. You weren’t going to force him to continue if it was this painful for him to talk about. “I understand,” You spoke gently, not wanting to upset him more, “And I’m okay with that risk.”

Aaron nodded at your words, not really knowing if you meant them. You did. Even if you wouldn’t admit it quite yet, you were in love with Aaron. You understood his job was scary and he dealt with a lot of evil in his line of work, but not even that could keep you from wanting a relationship with him.

“And, there will be times when I’m not around. My job, it is very demanding and very important to me, and to the world, I think. When they need me, I have to go.” You knew this part, he was away a lot. That’s why you had spent so much time texting before he was aware of the crush you had on him. However, before you could respond, the oven dinged, telling you it was time to take out the danishes.

Without thinking about it, you jumped up from the table, exclaiming, “My danishes are done!” Aaron laughed at this, following you with his eyes as you made your way to the oven, pulling out the desserts and sitting them on the counter to cool. You were looking over them are you spoke, “I know that, Aaron. I’m a busy bee, too. I think I’ll be okay when you’re away.”

“These look this delicious,” he complimented, reaching for one. You quickly swatted his hand away, “They need to cool!” He laughed and pressed a kiss to your neck. “What are they?” He asked, not moving his face from the crook of your neck. “Raspberry cheese danishes! It’s a new recipe.” You could feel yourself getting giddy at the thought of Aaron Hotchner, your boyfriend, and personal taste-tester.

“Well, they look and smell amazing. You’ll have to make some for the BAU holiday party.” He said, very casually. You froze in your spot as he unwrapped from your figure. “You want me to go?” You were surprised at his invitation. From getting to know him, you’d realized that the people in the BAU were some of the most important people in his whole life. “Of course,” he smiled, “Everyone brings their significant others.”

♡ TAGS: @himboelover @zaddyhotch @lcvdoll @h0t-as-h3ll @lamentis-10 @cherubswhispers

disclaimer: i will only tag accounts that have an age on their profile that indicates they are not a minor

[danny-doodles]

Steve’s Hobby

This is a short 2k blurb about one of my Steve hcs, I am only really good at critical analysis writing so I’m sorry if this is bad!! Creative writing isn’t my strong suit but I felt like I couldn’t really explain this hc in a drawing as well as writing it could.

Growing up Steve was often taught the importance of words from his father, thinking it would be useful for his son’s future in the business. Steve was never the best reader, letters jumping around the page made it too difficult, so instead he listened to everyone around him. Teachers, his parent’s coworkers, older kids, all of them taught him the importance of the meaning of words.

How certain words would make someone a town pariah yet others a god among men. Steve was a more quiet kid but as he grew up he also grew confident in his words. He could tear someone down with one sentence, ensuring they knew he was not to be messed with. That’s why he was so confused when he struggled in his english class, he knew the power of words and the many meanings, but his teacher never understood. Sure he made grammar errors, how no one else struggled with the dancing letters he didn’t get, but how could the teachers not understand his connections? Steve shouldn’t have to explain why the red of the handmaid’s cloaks represented the ripping of humanity from the women, it was so clear to him. Obviously the boar head could be comparable to the church, how could his teachers not make the connection?

Even Nancy didn’t understand, someone he considered smarter than him. He knew she was trying to be nice when she critiqued his college paper but it still left him in the fog. Basketball was war to him, a fight that was pointless with one but possible with many. A challenge that called for leadership and a strict order. Everyone had the roles, knew where and when to shoot, needed the ability to think quickly on their feet and not struggle under the pressure. Uniforms to not only separate from the enemy but to show they are a unit reaching for a common goal. It was so clear leaving no need to explain, especially to Nancy.

But she didn’t get it, no one got it.

Maybe he wasn’t as good with words as he thought.

Steve from then on fumbled his words when he got nervous, scared he would say something that made him sound dumb and point out his weakness with words. The concussions didn’t help either, making him take longer to grasp concepts. Reading felt nearly impossible, the headaches were unbearable. Not to mention the kids' comments, judgmental and brutal as if Steve didn’t have a reason to struggle in the first place.

Everyone around him loved to put him in a sudden spotlight and when he didn’t say the right line he was booed off stage and dealt with the looks of disappointment from his co stars for messing up. So Steve stuck to what he knew, his quick remarks. Were they bitchy? Yes, but not coated in malice like they used to be. Piggybacking off others points with sarcastic comments so the other person kept talking, anything to get the attention off him.

But Steve had a secret hobby that he shared with no one, not even with his platonic soulmate with a capital P Robin.

Steve wrote poetry.

Years of horrors that by law he couldn’t share that caused vicious nightmares and a clammy grasp on reality at times tended to keep Steve up. Another gift bestowed by his father though was a feeling of shame when sharing his emotions. Didn’t help that those emotions were typically down played or outright ignored by others. Therefore a bottle filled with his emotions rested in Steve’s chest, which after Vecna he really realized probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. So Steve took to writing them down, but he did it for himself.

No need to explain everything, he knew what he meant, he knew every context of every word. He wrote on his experiences, his emotions. He wrote when he was happy, he wrote when he was sad. Steve wrote and wrote and found his love for words again. And god did it feel good, it felt like taking back his voice from a world that underappreciated it. In a weird way it felt like revisiting a relative he had last seen as a child, that sense of freedom and the loss of expectation because in their eyes he was still that little kid. All they wanted was to see someone they loved and to Steve the words welcomed him back with a hug that rivaled his Nonna Maria’s.

Steve would ponder over lines at random intervals of the day, biting his pencil between his teeth during the quiet hours at work or simply jotting down a line right before picking the kids up. Steve wrote so often he kept his small little notebook on him at all times, usually accompanied by a pencil bound to it with a rubber band. (Turns out having hearing aids and glasses made it really difficult to put pencils behind one's ears). At this point everyone had seen his notebook, pale blue with some star stickers because he never had a shortage of them. Everyone assumed it was for something different. Some thought it was grocery lists, to-do lists, something productive. Others thought it was like a pocket calendar with all his plans listed so he didn’t forget. Dustin insisted it was meant to hold the definitions of anything D&D related so Steve never forgot, meanwhile Robin argued it was to hold all the wonderfully obscure movie recommendations she loved to give. All of them were wrong though and Steve kind of adored it that way. He didn’t have to explain himself that way, he could continue to hide under the blankets. Steve no longer held his tongue out of fear of others but because he had an outlet he much rather prefer.

Listening now felt less like a pop quiz, waiting for him to mess up his response, it felt like an actual conversation. Steve may not speak up as much as he would have before the Upside Down but he fell back in love with his own voice and maybe one day he would feel confident enough to share it with the Party, but for now it was all his.

No matter how much they wanted to prove who was right, the kids and older teenagers never touched the book when it was rarely separated from Steve. Well...after someone tried to grab it and they learned they really shouldn’t touch it.

While at the Harrington house the Party were preparing for a campaign session when the argument about the pale binded pages was brought up again. Steve had left it on the kitchen counter while he went to the bathroom, and Mike decided he was done with the bickering. He shot up and went to retrieve and open the book but before he could grab it the book flew through the air.

All the heads turned and landed on El holding it in her hand, “We are not Steve, this is his. It is rude to invade his privacy, would you like me to watch you without telling you,” everyone quietly shook their heads, “Then we do not watch Steve without him knowing.”

That’s exactly when Steve walked back in, it takes one look across the room at all the embarrassed faces and El holding his book with frustration painting her eyes to know what had occurred while he was gone. He walks up, kisses El on her head and softly thanks her while taking back his little literature.

After that incident no one dared touch the book or face the wrath of their favorite mage. They would find out when Steve was ready for them to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That damn little book haunted Eddie’s thoughts. He knew Steve was not what he assumed him to be so anything was on the table, he had been wrong about the guy before who's to say he won’t be this time?

Of course Eddie wanted to respect Steve’s privacy because Eddie personally would be mortified if Steve had seen any of his notebooks, mainly because of the pages of lyrics that not so subtly hinted at an itsy bitsy affection for the badass babysitter. If that didn’t give Eddie away the random ‘Eddie Harrington’ and ‘Steve Munson’ with hearts all over would finish the job. So yeah, Eddie was not crazy to offer up any of his notebooks to venture into Steve’s book. He just had no idea the universe would present him with a much more favorable offer.

Steve and Eddie started hanging out a lot more after Vecna, no shocker considering they shared a hospital room, and soon the bat buddies would spend their time together outside of the hospital. That’s why it wasn’t surprising for Steve to let Eddie venture into Steve’s room while he went to pick up their lunch.

Eddie was somewhat of a curious cat, so when he spotted the notebook and some papers scattered on Steve’s desk he was like a moth to a flame. He softly glided his fingers over the blue cover and exhaled some breath in a soft laugh over the star stickers Steve oh so loved. It was the paper though that caught his eye when he finished observing the book. It looked like lyrics at first but then he realized some of the lines were too short to be lines, if anything they looked more like stanzas from a poem. Steve had poetry on his desk, did Steve read poetry? Thee Steve Harrington likes poetry? God his whole doctrine was garbage huh. Eddie moved the paper towards him and started to read.

Watchful gaze

Setules on the glass.

Wishful gaze

Silent pleas of escaping rolling in the mouth

Fingertips slipping through the veil,

Grasping for warm hands,

Receiving lukewarm.

Hesitant to grab.

Dependency clasping the palms

Such a feverish feeling

Poking at the appendages,

A coldness that numbs.

Gently gripping for the heat,

The balmy yields.

Smoke and simmers,

Arms rushing to sides

Frozen.

Yearning for ardor,

Turn not yet given,

Waiting for the impossible,

Waiting for the unobtainable,

So understanding.

So relieving.

So desperate.

So alone.

Standing for the calling.

So patient.

So pathetic.

Empty Hands by Steve H.

Eddie was staring at the very last line on the paper, utterly flabbergasted. Steve wrote this? Steve writes poetry?! Is that what resides in the little book? Before Eddie could even find the power to turn to the book to look, Steve walked into his room. Again a quick look is all Steve needed to take before he knew what happened in his absence.

“Oh! Uh..I’m guessing you read it.”

Eddie slowly looked back up while caressing the paper, “Yeah, you..um..you really wrote this? Is that…uh..what’s in your notebook? Cause I will admit I never would have guessed that.”

Steve started scratching his neck, “I don’t blame you,” he huffs, “But yeah I write poetry, helps to let some of the thoughts out considering our lives y'know?”

“I totally get it dude! Lord knows my lyrics are infected with the whole spring break bullhonkey. So..totally cool if you don’t want to tell me but, why is this one out of the book? Were you gonna write it into the book?” Eddie picked up the paper to place it next to the notebook and turned to face Steve.

“Actually I copied it from the notebook, I’m gonna, okay wait, you can’t tell anyone this-”

“Even Robin?” Eddie exaggerated his smile to look wild.

“Even Robin.” Steve nodded with his eyes shut.

Eddie put his hands together and swayed while standing, “Wowww look at me, lil old Eddie Munson getting to learn the secrets of the mysterious writer Steve Harrington.”

“Eddie, you want to know or not?” Steve sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

“Yes. Yes please,” Eddie eagerly replied, barely letting Steve finish his sentence.

“The last time I went to Indy with Robin to go shopping at their mall we went to a cafe. The bulletin board had a flier for a poetry night and I got curious I guess.”

“You gonna perform the poem there?”

“That’s the plan.”

Eddie could understand wanting a fresh slate when it came to having a reputation. “Craving anonymity? Must be tough considering you are Hawkin’s golden boy.”

Steve smiles brightly and Eddie sees his shoulders lose tension, tension Eddie didn’t even notice because he was so distracted by the fact that holy shit Steve is a poet. “Exactly.”

Honestly Eddie would give anything to hear more of Steve's hidden works, he grabs some of his hair and brings it to cover his mouth, “I know you don’t intend to tell the rest of the bunch, but uh..would you allow a humble bard to observe your lyrical performance?”

Eddie looks at Steve’s face for any hint of annoyance and finds none, instead he finds a look that he could hope to be correct in his guess is excitement.

“Really? You’d want to hear more, it's not confusing or stupid to you?” Steve softly smiled at Eddie, making him swoon inside.

“It's art! It doesn’t need to make sense, it just needs to make you feel good, who cares if others are confused. And for what its worth even if I’m not right on the money that poem made me feel Steve, I mean as the expert in self-expression it felt real and vulnerable, y’know.” Eddie had to shut himself up before he himself waxed poetry about just how much he is dying to hear more from Steve to learn more about him.

“Thanks Eddie.” Steve gazed at Eddie as if no one had ever told him that before. Which now that hes thinking about it that’s probably the truth. Guess Eddie needed to constantly remind him then.

Eddie smiled, mirroring Steves while bending at his waist, “Oh but of course my liege.”

“Oh my god okay Eddie cmon the food’s gonna get cold.”

Steve started to leave his room and Eddie rushed to follow him, “Now that I know what the book is filled with may I pretty please read it?” Rapidly blinking his eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent and pure but instead looking like a piece of dust got in his eyes.

“Nope.”

“Ugghhh c'mon Steve! Just imagine the look on the little hellions when they see me opening the book! God the jealousy! The feeling of betrayal when they see me reading Steve Harringtons’s treasure trove of text and they are none the wiser to what is inside. And the best part, I have permission! The power I would hold Steve! The possibility, I could use them like little puppets to do my bidding while they crave information I alone hold!”

“Eddie that sounds like a headache for me waiting to happen, they’re just gonna badger me to tell them because they would claim it’s unfair you know and they don’t.”

“Eh, their egos could take a little hit don’t you think?” Eddie was now resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as the younger started to bring the food out of the carry out bag.

“Can I read your lyric notebook?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as his brain proceeded to remind him of every lyric he had written around his devotion to Steve. Red in the face Eddie responded quickly, “Nope! Mmm you smell that Stevie I’m so hungry, aren’t you?”

“Subtle Munson.”

“Tis my middle name.”

Steve fondly rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

As they settled down on the couch Eddie tracked Steve grabbing the remote, “So I can really watch you?”

Steve turned and looked at Eddie with a calmness on his face. “Yeah Eddie.”

Eddie grabbed his hair as Steve stared at him, “Cool, cool, it’s a date.” Eddie froze about to panic silently as he tried to fix his slip up.

“Yeah, it's a date.” The two looked at each other, neither wanting to look away. After a minute or so Steve turned on the TV and if the two fell asleep together it was their business.

[snootlestheangel]

I need to stop having ideas ffs

And of course it's basically Ghoap: Murder Husbands

Soap and Ghost who are both technically military but they're both so anonymous no one's really sure anymore. They do their own thing, basically.

They live and exist simply as their callsigns. The notorious Ghost: a manifestation of Death itself, never leaves anyone against him alive. Works silently and seems to be truly a demon. Efficient and deadly, you never want to hear the Ghost is there, even if he's supposedly on your side.

And yeah, the name "Soap" doesn't exactly strike fear into anyone. At least not at first, not until they learn he earned it through being so good at not leaving a single trace of either his or Ghost's identities. Never a way to track them down. Everywhere he's been, all the information has been wiped clean. He's scary good at helping the pair simply vanish into thin air.

Everyone that does end up working with them only knows them by their masks. Very select people have heard Ghost speak, and the way the two seemingly compliment each other's appearance in a way is mildly uncanny.

They're practically legendary heroes at this rate, but like dark and no one wants to meet them.

Especially superstitious Sergeant Kyle Garrick.

But after one mission gone sideways, Gaz ends up injured pretty badly. At least he thinks so. He's bleeding and he hit his head pretty hard, so he's losing consciousness.

The last thing he sees before blacking out is the infamous above mentioned duo, haunting skull masks hovering over him.

Next thing he knows, he wakes up cozy on a couch in what he assumes is a safe house. The wound where he was bleeding from has been neatly bandaged, and he's in a set of sleep clothes not familiar to him, the pants a long length on him, and the shirt a bit baggy.

Some interaction with casual Soap and Ghost, where Soap figures out who Gaz is and his connection to Price. (Basically this would just absolutely buff the fact that Soap is insanely smart, emphasis on the insane part)

Eventually Gaz is reunited with Price and SoapGhost disappear again

But there's a twist

Sergeant John MacTavish and Lieutenant Simon Riley are still active soldiers, and are part of their own special forces unit. Their unit is renowned for their high success rate, and their efficiency with every assignment.

Their unit and Price’s are assigned to work together. Gaz nearly shits himself when he sees the two ranking officers are Soap and Ghost.

I have more to share but I can't explain it very well rn

Someone can spam me with asking for more and I'll get back to this when I am back to brain functioning

[kiddiewrites]

Command Me To Be Well pt.2

I'm so sorry I took this long to post, I had to make modifications and still this part is not proof read :'D So if there's

This is part 2 to the “Command Me To Be Well” fic, i wanted a happy ending but it was going to go two ways with this one, either I rushed the ending or I stretched the angst a bit for maximum relief and fluff in the end, I want to do a “sunshine after a storm” kind of fic

The text in italics are memories, mostly from the boy's pov but there are (y/n)’s too :D

Angst, T.F.141 x reader, Platonic!T.F.141 x reader, HURT, bit of OOC T.F. 141, pining!reader, extension of the angst, Injured TF141, MAJOR injuries, late night confessions, Poly!141, fluff, bit of relief.

PART 1

∞ Happier Than Ever ∞

“I don’t relate to you, ‘cause I’d never treat me this shitty”

As it turns out, transfers among the task force without a valid reason were not easy to pull off, Laswell very much told you so when you tried to apply for a unit on the other side of the country.

So the next few days were full of awkwardness between you and the rest of the unit, not for lack of trying from the boys, except for Ghost, barely managing two words to you before you turned away from them, under the excuse of files that needed reviewing or soldiers that needed patching up.

Speaking of which, the other soldiers noticed a shift in your dynamic and even under no fault of their own taking the brunt of it, mainly in the shape of a monstruos training program led by a very much pissed off Lt. “Ghost” Riley. It was almost a common occurrence from the last few days that soldiers arrived exhausted at the med bay with dizzy spells or injured ankles or even passed out from exhaustion. Desperate for some sort of relief in their “punishment” some of them tried to convince you to go to the training grounds and have a talk with him so that maybe he could tone it down out of concern for their fiscal health. You refused. Not because you didn’t think they deserved it or something like that, but because of the glares he had been sending to you since that day. 

The Death Stare, is what the soldiers called it. Even the mention of your name would get the poor soldiers under a heavy gaze full of hate, needles to say when you tried to speak to him regarding injuries or his medical history he would just turn away not before looking at you like he wanted to murder you.

Johnny tried his hardest not to look at the spot in the dining hall where you used to sit on your breaks, a task that he couldn’t really manage to accomplish due to the weight of guilt that hung heavy on his shoulders since that day, the words you spoke replaying in his head like a nightmare.

- I know I’m pathetic to you, I know that you think I’m… how you put it, Sergeant MacTavish?- At the mention of his name he looked up at you - “so fucking annoying”, I think was the term used.- 

He tried to apologize over and over again but you always shut him down, not giving an inch. Out of pride or hatred he couldn't tell but … your eyes… your sad (e/c) eyes adorned with heavy dark circles under them, made the regret multiply.

-Don’t sweat it, Sergeant, let’s just don’t let it affect our work- you’d say with a tight lip smile and a tired sigh. 

But that was just it, it may not affect you but it sure affected him… more than he cared to admit, he never thought that he’d miss your shining eyes and blushing cheeks, that he’d miss your shy giggles and the way you’d follow him around base with a box of cookies or a bag of gummy bears that you’d share. Oh, how he regretted every word that came out of his mouth that night but by all the Gods above, he would fix it. He was a stubborn one after all. 

Kyle was a bit harder to read, for such a calm and collected man he was feeling like shit. But he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you, not like Johnny or the captain tried to. He tried a more “actions over words” type of approach, trying to make sure you’d still take care of yourself and if you noticed it you didn’t say anything. In all honesty, he was about to give up, until one night where he stayed up late. It had been a rather slow day and he tried to catch up on his reading before they were inevitably deployed. He sat in a corner of the hardly used couch in the break room and there he stayed for a few hours until it was dark out, the clock reading almost 2am when he averted his gaze off of the pages. Setting the book aside, he stood up and stretched, a few joints popping while doing so. Recovering his book, he left the break room and headed for his dormitory. On the way back his mind drifted back to you and the way you always seemed to have the utmost care when patching him up, the way your brows would frown in concentration and your lips seemed to purse a bit. He remembered the time they came back from a mission, Kyle sporting a huge gash to his side and almost passing out when they landed. He remembers your voice, reassuring him he would be okay and giving instructions to the nurses who worked with you. He passed out but when he woke up there you were, still checking in on him.

The sun shone in his face, stinging his eyes when he tried to open them, the beeping of the heart monitor ringing in his ears and the distinctive smell of the med bay seeping into his nose. He groaned trying to get up, only to be stopped by your gentle hand guiding him back down. 

-Easy there, Sarge. You took a nasty cut to your side and lost a lot of blood, you’re lucky it didn’t go any deeper otherwise I don’t know if you’d been able to make it.- His eyes opened completely  and focused on your form standing next to his bed, with a gentle smile and tired eyes, no doubt from staying up all night saving him. With the sun giving you a different glow, he thought you looked almost angelical.

-It was a bit of a challenge to get the boys off of your side, I think Ghost threatened me when we took you to surgery.- you said with a small smile and a knowing look. 

-Something about framing me with murder of a ranking officer if I didn’t save you- you took a step back to check on his vitals in the monitor.

-I…-  He croaked, the lack of lubrication in his throat making it difficult to speak- I thou’ I was a goner fo’ sure- The reality sinking in once he was completely awake, the thought of not seeing the boys again forming a few tears in his eyes, you didn’t comment on them and he was grateful.

-Don’t worry, Kyle.- You said as you approached him and placed your hand in his arm, his name falling from your lips with such care that he felt a blush creeping up to his cheeks and looked away from you. 

-I won’t let you die on me, not when you need to go home- 

It was the way you said it, so gentle and reassuring. Letting a few tears escape, he felt your hand retreating and heard you moving around the room. It wasn’t until he heard the door open and your voice calling for the captain that he let the tears slowly and silently flow. 

-Captain, you can come in now, he’s awake.- Next thing he knew rough hands were cupping his face and turning his head, he saw the captain… no… not the captain, this was John he was seeing. Worried features and red puffy eyes. THAT  was John.

-You ok there, sarge?- his voice dripping with relief and fondness. Kyle stayed silent but gave a gentle nod. He soon heard other footsteps and turning to the door he saw Johnny and Simon, they approached with care. Johnny with a wide smile at seeing him alive and Simon with relief in his eyes, the baclava obscuring his face but they knew. Oh they knew their Lieutenant. 

- I’ll give you a moment, if you need me I’ll be right outside- your voice was soft but caring. Neither of them turned your way, except for the captain who turned back to you.

-Thanks Doc- he said with a tiny smile, at this yours grew a bit wider.

-Of course, cap- and with that you exited  the room, leaving the boys together to process what happened.

The memory brought a small smile to his face and he subconsciously reached for his side, where the now scar was. As he approached the barracks he walked by the med bay, where he saw that the light was on. He peeked through the small window and found you asleep over a few files, with a small smile and realizing a tiny sigh he walked in. Thanks to his years of service and the ability to walk almost imperceptibly helped him at the moment, very carefully he picked the throw blanket you had in one of the chairs before your desk and placed it on your shoulders. He heard you release a small sigh of relief and at that he let out a small chuckle. 

-Hav’ ye always been this hard’eaded?- he said in a low tone, trying his hardest not to wake you.

-We’re really sorry ya’ know?- He said it in a whisper, he didn’t really expect you to answer him, the way your chest was rising and falling made it clear that you were not conscious. 

He went for the exit and shot you a last glance before he left just as quietly as he entered. 

-I know- just a whisper… but he heard it, a small smile making its way to his lips.

-Goodnight, Doc- and so he left with a slightly better heart and in a better mood. 

“You made me hate this city”

Things seemed to be looking a bit better, at least you weren't entirely avoiding them now. 

And so, Soap saw his opportunity one morning and decided to talk things out with you.

There he stood with a little bag of pastries and a cup holder with two coffees, he had a whole speech prepared for this moment. But the moment he stood in front of your office door, he just couldn’t move. 

You could hear the shifting of his feet on the outside of your door, it had been a few days since he last tried to speak with you so you decided to take the next step, literally. 

You stood up from your desk and headed for the door, you opened it just as he was about to knock.

It is a funny sight, to see a man of his stature and build look like he was caught red handed, which he was. 

-Hiya there, sarge- And oh how he missed it the way your little smirk would accompany the way your head tilted a bit to your side as you looked up at him, it made him feel things, needy things. 

-Hiya the’e, doc- he said in a low voice and a small smile, he looked at you as if it was the first time he ever did, your hair pushed back with a headband letting him see your pretty (e/c) eyes. 

-May I com’ in, doc? I brou’ coffee and thos’ pastrees ye lik’ so much- It was the most gentle you ever heard him talk and it was heartwarming and really how couldn’t you say no to chocolate spread pastries and warm coffee.

-Come in, then.- You stepped to the side and he let himself in. 

You watched him for a bit before closing the door and making your way to the desk. 

You took a seat on your chair and signaled him to sit down, you cleared the few files that were littered across the desk so he could set the coffees and the pastries down. After everything was settled he reached over the desk to pass you your coffee, which you took from his hand accidentally brushing your fingers with his, you felt a little blush come up to your face. He sat back with a little smirk at your blushing face and sipped on his cup. You stayed there relishing in the silence and just looked at him, only to find him already looking at you. His beautiful blue eyes just staring back at yours, a little fondness to them but also with something else. Something that you really couldn’t figure out yet but had your stomach do a little flip. You stayed there for a few minutes just looking at each other, you couldn't help to release a little chuckle at the softness of it all. As if he’d never almost pinned you to your desk in a fight that day. 

-Some’in on yer min’, doc?- he said with a teasing tone, one that had you looking down at your desk to try and avoid his piercing eyes. 

As you looked up once again, you asked the question floating in your mind ever since he came in.

-Why are you here, John?- You’d never called him that, but it felt kinda nice saying his actual name. It felt good. 

-Shit, doc. I ain’ been call’d like tha’ since my ma was royaley pissd off at me.- The biggest grin plastered on his face as he said it, quickly changing to a light smile as he saw your gentle serious one. 

-I came t’ apologize, doc.- He looked down at his lap, not really wanting to meet your eye.

- I actet like a fecknig fool, I knew from the baggining you tried to geta long, but I jus…, I guess I realey couldn’ and wouldn’ want ta let ya in cos…- he went quiet, there was something else he wanted to say but saying out loud was a bit more difficult than he care to admit. 

-Johnny, it’s ok- His eyes shot up at you and he could see the smile on your face, a genuine forgiving smile. One that he would hold on to, even when he went onto the darkest of places. 

-I must admit I may have come on a bit too strongly and first, I know it could sometimes be a problem.- The sincerity in your voice was not lost to Johnny, almost as if this wasn’t the first time you had this conversation.

-And uhm, it’s not that I was mad at you for being annoyed with me.- At this Johnny frowned in confusion.

-Then… wa’ was it?- He was genuinely at a loss, he couldn’t really figure out what it was. 

You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, watching him furrow his brows and tilt his head to the side was cute, like a puppy. 

So you took a deep breath and said it… What was bothering you…

-It’s ‘cause you didn’t tell me from the beginning- His eyes were focused on you, your giggle sounded really cute but the reason behind it wasn’t something he expected.

-You’re not the first nor the last to say those things about me- His eyes widened and he felt the guilt starting to form in his chest

.-I…I’m sorry, doc…- He felt the shame rising in his chest along with something else, a tiny rage, a sense of protection coming over his entire self.

-You don’t have to worry about it, Sarge- Your smile was disarming, the genuine forgiveness coming in waves taking a hold in his heart. 

Blushing he smiled back and oh god, what a beautiful smile. All boyish and charming he looked so pretty… so you blushed.

-So, Sarge… wanna take the first bite?- The sly smirk and your low voice sent a tingle of excitement down his spine. 

-Ahh…I.. Eh yea’ yea’- his brain short circuited but it felt amazing, he reached for the chocolatey pastry and smiled.

You’ll be the end of him

“And I don’t talk shit about you…”

Something Price always found amusing was the way Simon would find “refuge” in his office when he didn’t want to deal with… anything really.

He would sit down in a chair, fold his arms and sulk, just staring at the wall and huffing.

First time he did it, Price tried to talk to him and all he got was grunts and hums. By the fifth time he sulked in his office, he just let him stay there for the afternoon and only addressed him after he finished his paperwork. Leaning back in his chair he stretched out and felt the satisfying pop of his back and arms.

He turned to look at Simon, who already seemed to be looking at him, a gleam of hunger in his eyes.

-Interested in a drink, Lieutenant?- He asked with a slight smirk and a tilt of his head, a soft satisfied growl was heard from the giant man as he stood up and made his way to the captain’s desk.

-I take any’hing ye give me… sir.- his seductive voice was muffled a bit by the baclava adorning his face but the tone was enough for Price to feel the effects of it in the most intimate part of his soul.

-Careful, Lt.- His eyes scanned the form of his second in command and found himself a bit hot under his uniform. The way that only a few words were affecting him made it so hard to resist, Simon knew exactly what to do and say to push his captain’s buttons and make him feel just the way he wanted to.

-Ye know we can’t be doin thi’ ‘ere- his voice was gruff and low and oh so inviting, his words were one thing but his body… it said something else entirely. 

-I den’ see ya resistin’- Simon caressed John’s face in a gentle manner, it was so gentle and so warm that he couldn’t help but lean into his hand. 

-Lieutenant, please.- His eyes closed and felt Simon settling into his lap, instinctively he wrapped his arms as much as he could over his wide hips helping his second in command to adjust to the size, when he opened his eyes he swears he felt something stir in his stomach, it was as if he saw them for the first time. The deep blue connecting with his in a very gentle and beautiful manner.

The intimate moment was held for a few minutes, relishing  in the silence where they stayed for a few more minutes trying to forget everything that had occurred for the last week. 

“Never told anyone, anything bad…”

The rising and falling of the captain’s chest was steady, however breathing was a bit difficult given the tattooed arm that rested across it, he turned his head to watch at the giant man that stayed with him all through the night. The silence was broken by the sound of the telephone ringing had the captain stood up from the bed to answer it, being a difficult task due to the insanely quick reflexes of the lieutenant, as carefully as he could he removed Simon’s arm and stood up to receive the call.

In the quiet of the morning Simon stirred in his sleep, he stretched his arm trying to find the warmth of the captain instead finding cold sheets he bolted right up, as he stood up, the captain came out of the bathroom with a towel draped around his hips.  He sat down in the bed, and caressed Simon's  hair while he informed him of their next assignment, one that would require you on the field since it would be a rather long deployment, “almost a month long assignment” he was told. So they couldn’t afford to bleed out while waiting for their extraction.

The growl that came from Simon’s throat was a dangerous one, he still hadn’t completely forgiven you for shoving Johnny, the rage stirring in his stomach at the thought of that day. 

-Ye’ know tha’ ye hav’ to get along with ‘er, ‘ight?- John tried everything he could for the past week to get you too to maybe bond a bit, but it was a tough task. He had been rude and you hadn’t backed down either, for every rude comment he made you responded with an equally cold and spiteful one. 

He didn’t like the idea of you joining in but… orders are orders. 

- Yes captain- 

And so one cloudy cold day with a medical bag strapped to your back you boarded the plane with your squad ready to be deployed. Not knowing what came ahead.

Tagging (If you'd like to be added to the taglist please comment here :D) : @blackhawkfanatic - @beebeechaos - @d3vils-adv0c8 @azkza - @asherwesley - @praying-for-the-sun @xbubbleduckx - @blepleaxelotle

[fanfic-obsessed]

Time Given and Taken

This one is another time travel fix-it, also somewhat AU even beyond the time travel.  Our time travelers are Obi Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody, both from after their own deaths.  Let’s even put it after the Empire falls. 

They have reunited and through Force Shenanigans are sent back to five years before the Clone wars start (dealers choice if they chose to go back or just found themselves back in time), they land specifically on Ord Mantel, their bodies have been reformed at peak age and physical fitness (Late 20’s), there is not chip in Cody’s head and his aging has been slowed to match Obi Wan’s force assisted aging (Look if the Force has to build their bodies anyway it might as well get the best results possible); but we’ll get back to them in a moment. 

Now The Force did have to make some preparations for them, as it could not have two versions of the same soul existing in this universe at the same time.  Thus, in this universe,during the Naboo crisis Padawan Obi Wan Kenobi died in place of his Master Qui Gon Jinn. Jinn was still struck by Maul and Obi Wan did still bisect the Sith, but then the Padawan used a nearly unknown healing technique to heal Qui Gon at the expense of his own life.  Padawan Obi Wan’s last words to his master were ‘You said the boy needed to be trained, now you can’. He was mourned by everyone who knew him. 

That same year Unit CC-2224 was decanted stillborn, which happened at about the same rate of stillborns/miscarriages in natborn births. The Kaminoans did the typical cursory exam to make sure there was not a larger issue, and found that there had been a small difference in the nutrients in CC-2224’s growth pod that resulted in the stillbirth. No one knew to mourn the being he would have been at all. 

Having Qui Gon Jinn as a master did not actually make things better, or easier, for Anakin; though it also could be argued that it did not make things significantly worse either. It was different though. Though Qui Gon had more experience than Obi Wan would have in the original timeline, there were other issues now at play.  And Anakin was growing up in the blinding light of the memory of Obi Wan Kenobi, the perfect Jedi padawan who killed a Sith then died to save someone.  He was also growing up in the shadow of Xanatos, the talented, powerful former padawan that Fell and died a decade ago.  This is offset, just a bit, by Feemor coming back, telling Qui Gon that he could kriff off with his repudiation and installed himself as Anakin’s Padawan brother (“like I should have with little Obi Wan”). It is made worse by Anakin overhearing the wrong parts of a few conversations that heavily implied Obi Wan died because he felt he had little left to live for (Because Obi Wan was being replaced by Anakin)

It is likely that, left alone, growing up with the ghost (in tha he haunted the narrative, not that he was actually there) of Obi Wan would have made Anakin resentful of his dead padawan brother.  However Palpatine, who he still had frequent private meetings with (look no one was suspicious of this happening the first time around, Qui Gon would likely not have felt it was suspicious either), never met any potential resentment that he could not turn to his advantage.  Instead of letting resentment grow for Obi Wan, Palpatine instead leaned into this saintly memory of a young man Anakin only spent a little time with (a lot of, ‘I’m sure young Obi Wan would not have treated you like that’), something similar to what he supposedly did with Qui Gon in canon.  Basically polishing the image of Obi Wan Kenobi in Anakin’s head until the dead Padawan could do no wrong. Palpatine could have eventually used the memory of Obi Wan to further separate Anakin from the Jedi (“The Jedi let Obi Wan Die/Got Obi Wan Killed because he was the last good Jedi” kind of rhetoric).  

Had the dead man stayed dead. 

With that established we step back to 5 years before the Clone wars were due to break out, Ord Mantel, where Cody and Obi Wan find themselves appearing, young bodies, old minds, and a small amount of the local currency (not enough to destabilize the economy, but enough to start gambling with). They quickly, and quietly, win enough money to buy a small cruiser (taking care to keep their individual ins small enough not to catch the attention of anyone), just big enough for the two of them. 

Then they make their way to Kamino.

They very deliberately decide not to go to the Jedi just yet. There are a number of reasons.  Some are trauma based (the last time Obi Wan was Coruscant he was walking through the ruins of the temple and finding the bodies of children; the last time Cody was on Coruscant he was deserting the empire after Desix). Some are for practicality(Coruscant is Palapatines domain already; They do not realize that their alternate selves are dead here and do not want to run into Knight Obi Wan).  But the main reason comes from the fact that Order 66 caused two genocides, Jedi and Clone. They both reasoned that, while focusing on preventing the Jedi genocide (Going to the Jedi, killing Palpatine) would not necessarily prevent the Clones from being abused, used, and trapped by the chips, Freeing the Clones would, by the very nature of what happened, prevent the Jedi from being killed. 

So they go to Kamino. Talk their way into Tipoca City and to speak with Jango Fett.  First they help Jango remove his head from his ass and realize exactly what he did (effectively selling his genetic children into slavery to destroy a culture for revenge he was clinging to in order to keep from facing his culpability in what happened-Not only were the Jedi lied to at Galidraan, Jango shot first; he escalated things and it backfired on him). It took a few days (and included bringing Jango and Boba down to one of the creche rooms holding the clones the same physical age as Boba, putting Boba in clone uniform and asking Jango to try and pick him from the crowd. Jango promptly had a panic attack when he was face to face with 200ish Boba’s and unable to look away from the reality of what he was doing).

SIDE NOTE: Has anyone else noticed the parallel between Jango Fett and Maul. Both were obsessed with getting revenge for situations where they suffered from being in the instigator and losing. Essentially they fucked around, found out, and decided to get revenge, and it cost them everything they had left.  

Once Cody and Obi Wan actually got through to Jango, they told him everything. Being from the future, what Project Knightfall actually did, Cody talking about what it was like under the control of the chips, of never realizing why he betrayed his Jedi general or was willing to hunt down Force users, of waking up after the chip was removed and realizing exactly what he had done, Of the brothers he had lost to suicide, due to the horror of what had happened. They talked about the Empire and what it did to Mandalore. 

The three of them decided what to do next.  

Jango, looking at himself realistically for the first time in a decade, realizes quickly that he should not take the mantle of Mand’alor again. He was too young the first time, but had been growing into the role. Had Galidraan not happened, he likely would have been a good leader, but it did and the years of slavery (with its exposure to Spice) plus the trauma from Galidraan made their mark. Jango would, however, throw his support behind Cody as Mand’alor (Cody made sure it was clear that Jango would also be throwing in his support behind Obi Wan as Cody’s Jedi husband, alternately Cody and Obi Wan would share the Mand’alor title. Jango was fine with that).  

It is also decided, after much debate, that they would also inform the Kaminoans of the fate of their species in the original timeline (destroyed as soon as they could be) and get their cooperation.  There had been consideration for simply taking Kamino, or Tipoca city, but it was decided that it was simply more work than it was worth.  It took two months (during which Obi Wan and Cody functioned as additional trainers for the Cadets) before they were ready to present the truth to Lama Su. Thankfully they had enough working knowledge of things they should not, and were able to get enough proof of what they had to say, that they were able to convince Lama Su that aligning with the Sith would doom the Kaminoans; an if there was one thing the Kaminoan valued more than profit, it was their own survival. 

The Clone project, overall, was at a point where communication between the project and the Sith was infrequent at best (so that attention was not drawn to a seemingly empty patch of space too early), so Tyranus did not have cause to notice that Kamino started ghosting him (It should be noted that they also kept cashing his checks, ostensibly so that he would not notice anything wrong). 

With the Kaminoans on their side now, Cody, Obi Wan, and Jango got to work.  There were a few trainers that did need to be killed outright (Priest and Reau, whom Cody got to kill during one of the cage fights they were arranging-which forever endeared him to the Clone cadets, especially the batch he would have belong to in another life, who were around 10 years old developmentally,  who found themselves drawn to Cody, the trainer that looked so much like Jango Fett that he could have been a clone himself), and a few that asked to be paid so they could leave (and were paid extras so that Obi Wan could remove the details of what as going on from their mind, for safety reasons), but most were willing to follow Cody and Obi Wan as soon as it was clear that Jango has sworn himself to them (non sexually and non romantically, Jango is very AroAce, and very Sex/Romance repulsed). 

The next step is starting to remove the already embedded chips, which went quickly with the help of the Kaminoans, and partially demilitarizing the education of the cadets.  While they would be Mandalorians (as a warrior culture there is a certain level of military in their education) the cadets training would no longer be solely focused on being soldiers and nothing else.  The Kaminoans also keep cloning (Technically the original order was for 1 million clones for the Jedi, they may be taking Tyranus’s money and ghosting him, but they would fulfill their contract-It was decided by the Kaminoan Council that Obi Wan qualified as ‘Jedi’ for the purposes of the contract, so giving him the clones is really fulfilling their written contract)

Cody and Obi Wan, with the council from the remaining trainers and Jango, decided that they would spend the years between their arrival and one year before the Clone Wars was due to start on Kamino, still largely out of contact with the wider galaxy. In that time they develop their own culture (their own version of ‘how to be mandalorian’ built in part from the remaining True Mandalorians, the clone culture Cody brought from the previous timeline mixing with the ever evolving clone culture of the current timeline-which quickly became different from how Cody remembered it, Part of the Jedi traditions that Obi Wan brought with him from the previous timeline-some of which he may or may not remember correctly due to trauma and the length of time he spent repressing those memories). They also worked over talking points on how to unite their faction with the New Mandalorians, including going over what traditions/parts of their culture they would be willing to relinquish as a compromise and what parts they absolutely will not.  On Jango’s occasional trips out into the wider galaxy, to take jobs, he makes a point to get as close to Keldabe as he can to get a feel for the New Mandalorian as a faction (Obi Wan has inside knowledge, but it may be early or outdated is all kinda colored with ‘Satine died in my arms and it was my fault’). There was also a concerted effort to discreetly acquire enough ships for everyone. 

So we are one year before the Clone Wars were due to erupt. Palpatine is on Coruscant waiting for the perfect opportunity to enact his plan, believing that he had a handy clone army at the ready for the war he has been fanning. Tyranus, who has still not realized he has not spoken to Kamino in about 4 years, is quietly building his forces with the droid armies about 4 months from being completed. 

The Newer True Mandalorians (The name suggestion was from Rex’s-He still picked the same name and was adopted by Codywan along with Fox and Ponds, batch; the name is being workshopped) leave Kamino for Concord Dawn. They take with them a treaty between them and the Kaminoans that includes mutual protection, a live and let live clause, a few NDA’s about the Kamnoan’s gene manipulation process,  and a decent trade agreement where the Kaminoans provide genetic research and the clones provide free advertising for the success of the Kaminoans cloning process. 

Basically out of nowhere, as far as the galaxy is concerned, the True Mandalorians reemerge after being all but wiped out almost 20 years prior, and in far greater numbers than they had before. Numbers that sharply spike, as outcasts from the New Mandalorians and Death Watch, plus other remnants of the True Mandalorians flock to their banner. These are great enough numbers that when they reach out to discuss a treaty, and a possible merger for factions, with the New Mandalorians, the New Mandalorians actually take it seriously.   

This faction, the entire galaxy is surprised to learn, is being led by someone who looks an awful lot like Jango Fett, but is clearly not since Jango Fett is standing next to him (by this point Cody and Jango call ach brother, further confusing the issue) and a red haired man going by the name of Obi Wan Kenobi, who clearly is, or was, a Jedi. 

Tyranus and Sidious, realizing that Jango Fett showing up anywhere with a massive amount of being might be contrary to their plans, try to contact Kamino. Kamino doesn’t answer and their ‘we’re busy, don’t call us we’ll call you’ message included a virus that made it so they cannot find or contact Kamino again.

The heads of the New Mandalorian Government arrange to meet with the heads of the Newer True Mandalorians, including Cody and Obi Wan. Satine recognizes Obi Wan. It is at this point that they find out this timeline’s Obi Wan has been dead for almost a decade. They had known that this timeline’s Cody was never born, but had never thought to check on Obi Wan. 

The negotiations between the New Mandalorans and the Newer True Mandalorians lasts months, but eventually is hammered out between them, along with a new government structure. Cody and Obi Wan would jointly preside over a council made up equally of New Mandalorians and Newer True Mandalorian (and, should Death Watch want to actually come in from the cold, Death Watch representative, but the faction would have to swear to the agreed upon laws and to follow the joint Mand’alor’s- Satine insisted). While Obi Wan and Cody would have the final say in most cases, if at least 90% of the council agreed they were wrong there was a veto power that could be used. Membership on the council is decided by the faction in question, and if a new faction splits off and gets to a certain size (Generally enough people to populate a medium sized planet) that faction will also be able to put representatives on the council. 

Meanwhile in the Republic the reappearance of the True Mandalorians (it doesn’t matter that they have a new name as far the Republic is concerned) has derailed 90% of Palpatine's plans (he does not have time to grow another army, even if he could get in contact with Kamino again and he cannot start the war without an army).  The news that the Red Headed leader of the reemerged faction appeared to be Presumed Dead Obi Wan Kenobi, famed in song and story and all but sainted in Anakin Skywalker's head, derailed 90% of the rest. 

Padawan Anakin Skywalker, upon hearing that Obi Wan Kenobi might be alive, vanished from Coruscant. Just took off for Concord Dawn to potentially rescue his hero, or avenge him if it was someone else pretending to be him. Or something like that, Anakin was not thinking at all beyond that he needed to see Obi Wan, the man he knew for maybe a week when he was nine.  He also left prematurely, had he waited six more hours he and his master Qui Gon Jinn would have been assigned to investigate the identity of the presumed Obi Wan. 

Qui Gon did not know where Anakin was headed until he reached Concord Dawn (Anakin left a note that he was going radio silent to work on some course work he was behind in, so Qui Gon left him off the mission-This Qui Gon is just a little oblivious)  and was promptly led to a holding cell by some of the Mandos (I kind of want it to be Waxer and Boil, or one of the Alpha’s) who gestured at Anakin inside, glowering like a bristly wet cat, going ‘is this yours?’

I Imagine this ‘reunion’  is weird and awkward from every angle. Like this Obi Wan remembers holding Qui Gon as he died, raising Anakin, Anakin’s Fall, everything of the original timeline. But this Qui Gon held his Padawan as he died (which hold the residual guilt of surviving, plus the guilt of Obi Wan dying to save his life), has added the normal rosy shine to his memories of his padawan (gloss over the bad times to focus on the good times). This Anakin has few actual memories of Obi Wan, but a massive case of hero worship. possibly to the point of Obi Wan being akin to a deity to Anakin, so massively unhealthy(Which Qui Gon also realizes for the first time)  but in a way that is difficult to break. Palaptine inadvertently created the Cult of Obi Wan, with one cult member and brainwashed him so well that he fucked up his own plans.  Now that there is a living Obi Wan, it is everyone's problem. Cody is prickly with both of them, because he remembers the things Obi Wan, his husband, told him about his Padawanship AND remembers both Reckless General Skywalker and Darth Vader. 

I am not sure how much they actually tell the Jedi, but they definitely tell them that Obi Wan and Coy are from a different timeline, and no they can’t go back. Just so that they do not start thinking that Padawan Obi Wan somehow faked his death (they are just a little concerned how Anakin would react).

Eventually Cody gets to kill Palpatine, as a treat.

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ Total Eclipse Of The Heart

➳ Summary: You take Daryl to watch the 2017 solar eclipse (Daryl x GN!Reader)

➳ Setting: Southern Virginia, August 21st, 2017 (in the 6 year timeskip in season 9)

➳ Word count: 1.6k

➳ C/W: Nothing

➳ A/N: Simple thing cuz I hated Leah watching something as special as the eclipse w/ Daryl in the show cuz I DO NOT LIKE her ass so I rewrote it cuz I believe there's few things more bonding than watching an eclipse with someone. Whippin out the dad music reference on this one. (I am working on reqs! I just have training for my job which my boss very reassuringly dubbed “bootcamp” and health shit is beating my ass I need to call like 3 specialty clinics again um 🗿)

“Ya ever gon’ tell me where we goin'?”

“Nope. Almost there,” You replied, a cheeky grin on your face as you swiveled your head back to glance at Daryl who sat behind you on his motorcycle. You'd dragged him out of his guilt-ridden solitude in the forest and demanded he get on, saying you needed to show him something and would not be taking ‘nah’ for an answer. You'd been driving southwest for nearly two hours now, headed towards something specific.

Daryl had little sense of the date, having spent nearly the last 3 ½ years out in the woods, wrapped up in his search for Rick. You stayed with him from time to time, Carol checking in as well, but he was too stubborn to go home with either of you no matter how many times you urged it. Even if he knew the day, you weren't sure he'd even know why it was special.

You, however, had been tracking the calendar and lunar cycles, and kept one specific date and pattern in your mind for the last 7 years; August 21st, 2017. You remembered ages ago, reading on science forums and listening to programs on the television, that today, the paths of the moon and the sun would perfectly align and grace a total solar eclipse across the entirety of the United States.

Your lives were such shit in so many ways: flesh eating, rotting corpses snarling after you at every second, run in after run in with malicious and corrupt people and groups, the lack of food, water, shelter and security, so many people gone – and that didn't include everything from before the dead reawoke. And with Daryl unadmittably depressed after the bridge, you would've done anything to show him there were other things in life to focus on. To live for.

So you left Alexandria early in the morning, found Daryl's camp, and forced him to join you. At first he'd thought something godawful had once again disturbed the communities, so bad you couldn’t tell him. But when you started driving the opposite direction, he grew confused and repeatedly asked what was going on, yet you never gave him an answer. Still, he trusted it was important – trusted you – and let you lead him.

❥-》》—————➣

You pulled off the side of the road, powering down the engine and putting up the kickstand, sliding off and stepping to walk into the forest. You'd gone further down into Virginia, knowing that was closer to totality. It wouldn't be complete, but the distance made a difference. “Alright, c'mon.”

Daryl grabbed your wrist, tugging you back and catching your attention, his eyebrows narrowed. “Really? Tha hell's s’all this? Ya haul me'ah hundred miles away tah walk in tha damn forest?”

“Ya spend all your time in a forest anyway, Dixon.” His expression hardered a little, and you sighed. “Please just follow me. I promise you, it's worth it.”

He looked over the features of your face, judging the sentiment they conveyed, and after a moment let you go. You were already here, no point in going back now. As you spun back around, he begrudgingly trailed after you.

You scanned the environment as you went, stopping near an opening in the canopy of trees that gave view to the sky. You could tell by the slanting of shadows and the slightly abnormal shape of light above you that the process had already begun, all that was left was to observe. So you set your bag down and sat, motioning for Daryl to as well.

“Thi'sa picnic or sum?” He questioned, grunting a little as he unsurely slung his belongings off his shoulder to the ground and did the same, settling beside you.

“Could be, I do have some food.” He didn't seem amused. “But no, not a picnic. You know what the day is? Any idea why it's meaningful?”

“Ts'summer, kno’ tha’. M'ah supposed tah kno’?”

“Maybe, I don't expect you to. Here.” You twisted and opened your bag, reaching for a welding mask you'd brought along and passed it to him. “Look at the sun.”

The archer eyed the facial shield, then you, but listened and held it to his face before shifting his gaze up. He squinted, taking sight of the arc carving that ate into the historically circular form of the burning celestial body. And you explained; “It's August 21st… 2017.”

He had to think for a bit. “Tha eclipse?” He lowered the mask and peered back at you. Memories lodged deep in the layers of his mind sparked; learning about eclipses way back in highschool and hearing his teacher mention it, then the annular one in ‘94 and seeing pictures plastered all over the news where they discussed the future.

“Yeah, thought we should see it. It'll look better down here, not perfect, but still… and the lens on that is dark enough it shouldn't hurt our eyes,” You answered, taking your own look before laying back and using your bag as a pillow. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but that's roughly the last thing you cared about right now.

He couldn't help but just stare for a minute, studying how nonchalant you were about everything. How you'd so easily removed him from his rut when so many other attempts had failed, even with his cluelessness around your intentions – like some larger force took hold and finally willed him to break his destructive routine.

Daryl sprawled out next to you on the forest floor, trading the welding shield back and forth over the course of the next half hour, as well as a piece of paper to see the casted geometry. You both watched as more and more of the sun was etched away, taking mental images each time and comparing the new form to the old. It was mostly quiet, lost in similar awe but varying thoughts. You inched closer every time it was his turn, assuming he noticed but didn't point it out.

“Y'know… total solar eclipses are meant to be when the deities and energies fuse, just as the paths do. A window for opportunities and transformation… time for change,” You commented, recalling all people said about the symbolism of such an event. He gave an ‘Mm’, just so you knew he'd heard you, but paid more attention to the progression in the ethers.

The world around you began to rapidly darken, a sliver of orange glow visible in the makeshift glasses. Knowing it was close, you slid your left palm into his right, weaving fingers together, and he returned the hold, still remaining absorbed in the view.

The moon crossed over the sun – at least as best it would from your vantage point; golden rays illuminating around solid black. As Daryl's eyes locked on the sky, taking it all in, yours locked on him, choosing to watch him over a potentially once in a lifetime occurrence. He lowered the mask to briefly see it fully, now reaching for the sheet.

He looked at peace, maybe for the first time in his life: the constant storm of thoughts that persistently clouded his mind finally parting, even if for just a small moment. You witnessed the glitter of genuine emotion return to his blue's, something you'd feared was so long abandoned it may have been forgotten. Rich browns of his wavy hair glowed iridescent auburns when shimmers of sunlight peeked through the leaves, perfectly complementing everything about his being.

You knew you each needed that change.

“I love you.”

He took a second, making sure the sound of your voice was real and not crafted by his own imagination. His head turned, somewhat staggered to find your eyes already meeting his. It was impossible to rip away, your visions warping together as you seemed to merge, entranced by the little crescents that reflected on each other's irises. His free hand ditched the paper and reached over as he partly rolled to his side.

“For a long time.”

In fluid movements, Daryl's calloused fingers smoothed across the delicate skin on your cheek, leaning in and bringing you to him in a longing kiss. You didn't entirely expect it, although you didn't expect anything in particular at all, too unsure of how he'd react. But you pushed back against him, deepening the kiss and paying no thought to anything beside how it felt to finally overlap with him – till he broke away.

“I love ya too,” He mused, accent thickening in the confession. When you opened your mouth to continue, he shut you up with another peck and angled your face straight above. “Watch. M'not bein’ tha reason ya miss this.”

Words could wait, but the eclipse would not. So you obliged, cuddling closer to him and squeezing his hand as birds and insects sung in a concerned ensemble triggered by the daylight's disappearance.

The tranquility was eerie, a sensation mostly left in the rubble of society and replaced by prevalent chaos. You wondered if the feeling was shared elsewhere; at home with everyone in Alexandria, with survivors across the entire rest of the country. Maybe those who didn't know thought the holy spirit was returning to rescue your raptured souls. Did the walkers pause to look too? Everything so out of the ordinary it caught their attention?

But none of that mattered to you, because you had it here. And you basked in it with the one person you'd always hoped you would've.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[lewmagoo]

I saw you were writing blurbs! I was wondering if you can write one for Bob Floyd from the smut list? Number 4, maybe Bob is injured but desperately needs his partner?

slow sex while one or both are injured (bonus points if it’s after a battle or after they’ve patched up each other’s wounds)

he was fine. really, he was. just a little bruised, and very sore. he and phoenix had a close call during training that day, and it had forced them to eject from a jet that was hurdling at breakneck speed toward the earth. bob felt as if he’d been thrown down multiple flights of stairs. he ached in places he didn’t even know he could ache. but that wasn’t even the worst of it. no, the worst part was the look on your face when you’d come rushing into his room. you looked so frightened, and he hated that he was the cause of that fear and worry.

when you got the call that he’d been injured, your world tilted on its axis. thankfully your boss had allowed you to leave work early so you could be with your husband. you weren’t even aware of his condition. all you knew was that there’d been an accident, and that he was in the med bay, and no other details were able to be provided at that time. you were going in blind, unsure of what you were about to walk in on. would he be unresponsive? barely hanging on to life? these thoughts spiraled in your mind as you rushed down the hall toward the room they’d put him in. the only thing that gave you some sense of ease was the fact that he was in a recovery room, and not a care unit.

when you burst into the room, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed. he was obviously shaken, and there were some visible cuts and bruises, but he was in one piece, and he was alive. your knees almost buckled, but you pushed yourself forward until you reached him. “oh, bobby,” you whimpered. his eyes filled with tears, and you were quick to sit beside him and carefully wrap your arms around him, wary of doing anything that might cause him pain. “i was so scared. i didn’t know if you were okay or not.”

“i’m fine, sweetheart. just a little banged up.” he leaned over to kiss your head, despite the pain that flashed through his ribs. “one of the engines malfunctioned. we had to eject,” he explained.

“how’s nat?” you inquired, hoping she was fine.

“she’s okay. kind of beating herself up over it, even though it wasn’t her fault. she got us both safely out of the jet, that’s what matters.”

relief settled in your chest at the confirmation that your husband’s pilot was safe. you made a mental note to thank her for keeping your bobby out of harm’s way. “what are they saying as far as when you can be released?”

“it’s up to me. either i can stay for observation or i can sign some papers and get released tonight. i think i’m gonna do that. i’d rather spend the night in our bed than in this stuffy old hospital,” came his response.

that was how you found yourselves heading home a few hours later, bobby in the passenger seat as you drove. you held his hand the entire ride home, unwilling to let go. no words were spoken into the silence of the car. nothing could come close to expressing the way you felt. how terrified you’d been that you had lost him. thank god you hadn’t, but what if still lingered in your mind.

it lingered in his, too. long after you pulled into the driveway and guided him into the house. long after you helped him get ready for bed. long after you got him settled beneath the covers. he kept replaying the incident in his mind. the terror, the adrenaline, the realization that this moment could be his last.

“i was thinking of you,” he whispered. so quiet you couldn’t hear him.

“what was that?” you softly asked as you slid into bed beside him.

his mouth quivered. “i was thinking of you, when i was hurdling toward the ground. i thought…i thought for sure i was going to die. that i was never going to see your face again. hear your voice.” he squeezed his eyes shut, although his tears began to slide down his cheeks. “i-i’m glad it didn’t end that way. i’m glad i get another chance to tell you how much i love you.”

your own tears had begun to fall, and a soft sob escaped your throat. gingerly, you kissed him. tears mixing. mouths absorbing the sounds of each other’s weeping. although you were both reeling from this experience, there was an underlying tone of desperation. it manifested in you carefully climbing into his lap, straddling his hips. in your hands resting upon the sides of his neck, and his upon your hips. and when you parted, you could see it in his eyes. an unspoken need. something so strong and impassioned he could not voice it with mere words.

“please, honey, i…” he couldn’t speak. could barely breathe. suddenly it felt as if his skin was on fire.

“i know,” you breathed against his mouth. “are…are you sure? i don’t want to hurt you.”

“i’m sure.” trembling voice. barely able to breathe.

once again, you kissed him. you were frantic, yet gentle, as you rid yourself of your pajamas, and guided his soft sweatpants down his legs. lips finding his again, you reached down to wrap your hand around his soft cock, stroking him to full hardness as your other hand came down to prepare yourself to take him. it wasn’t long before you were aligning him with you, and he looked down to watch you sink down onto him. a guttural whimper escaped his throat, and his chest heaved as he let out a sob.

“oh! oh, sweetheart,” he sighed as you sank down fully, body flush with his. he wrapped his arms around your body, and you wrapped yours around his shoulders, holding him close, his head against your chest.

“i’ve got you,” came your whisper of reassurance. you held each other, bodies joined as one. tears streaming down your cheeks. mouths open and hot against each other’s. crying and moaning, breathing words of love and adoration. words of devotion.

“never let me go,” he pleaded. he wished you could hold him forever. that he could stay here in your arms, protected from the rest of the world, basking in the warmth of your love.

“never,” you sighed, hips rolling against his, trying your best not to hurt him. but you weren’t hurting him. far from it. you made him feel more alive than he’d felt all day.

“i love you,” he confessed into the air. “i need you. i never want to live without you.”

fingers laced through his hair, you let your forehead rest against his. “i love you too. never wanna live without you, either.”

the gravity of the situation weighed heavy on you both, but you took solace in this intimate connection. and if only for a little while, right here, connected to each other, you found peace. your bobby was safe in your arms. and you were thanking the stars that they’d seen fit to let him come back home to you.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

super duper congratulations on 5k, you absolutely deserve each and every one lovely ! i’m sure you’ve got a ton already, but at the suspiciously low number of soap requests, may i ask for an enemies to lovers ? perhaps in a ‘constantly-butting-heads-to-the-point-where-everyone-around-them-is-bashing-their-skull-in-from-annoyance’ to lovers sense. and maybe a dash of forced proximity? i know he’s a literal ball of sunshine, but i will enemies to lovers-fy any character i can get my hands on and you do the trope justice every! time!! of course, only if you would like to, sending love! <3 xx

—A Song of Gnashing Teeth

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was never a day where the two of you weren't butting heads - everyone was at their wit's end. Of course, you would both be forced to cooperate at some point.] ❞

“Stop moving,” the command comes in from your right ear, fizzling in and out as the connection pops. The comms were spotty in the higher altitudes, and even as the sweat stuck to your skin and the bugs buzzed, it still tried its best to come through. 

Just as you were trying your best not to snap.

“I’m not moving, Captain MacTavish,” you ease out. “I’m lined up.” 

Sniping in South America was the mission for the next two months—targets lined up with terrorist connections that needed to be six feet under per Shepherd’s orders ASAP. Two teams had been sent out, but only to work together for this instance. Yours, obviously, and the second belonging to a man you’d not seen in years.

The taste was still bitter in your mouth when you were around him, though.

“Don’t lie to me, Dearie���scope’s shakin’ more than a drunk after his sixth bottle.” Your eyes glare ahead, a sneer building slowly over your lips.

“You’re one to talk?” You scoff, dense foliage swaying as you focus on the head of one of your targets. Your men listen intently over the line as the two Captains bicker—all in the town below waiting to do a snatch-and-grab of one of the individuals you would need to interrogate. “Moscow, Russia, five years ago,” you speak in clipped sentences. “Target in her penthouse. White curtains swaying in the breeze. What do you do, Soap? Oh, that’s right,” you growl, “you shoot the damn marble statue thinking it was her after two bottles of shit wine.”

There’s a click of a tongue over the line. A smirk easily heard that leaves you fuming.“I remember I happened to be a bit distracted that day, Hen. Not as much as you, though, aye?”

“Only thing I was distracted by,” you flick off your sniper rifle’s safety, undisturbed by the blatant insinuation. “Was your ability to not fucking see clearly.” 

A low grumble wafts out, cutting the line a few times. 

Your joined unit all seem to try and stop their hands from slapping their faces in annoyance—the connection heavy with tension and anticipation. Whoever decided it was smart to put the two of you together either thought it would be funny, or they hoped you could both get past your own egos for the sake of the mission. 

As if. 

“I’m taking the shot,” you sigh. “Team One—get ready to intercept the second target on my go.” 

For once, the Scot seems to agree with you, voice coming back to that serious gruff bark. “Two, keep the area locked down; no need to let the others get too excited and pop off shots. Save our arses the trouble.”

You let your finger slip down to the trigger, eye open and stance relaxed—taking into account distance and wind as you level to notch three. 

“On my go,” you say again, the comms lighting up with affirmatives. “Three…two…” Your finger squeezes just as, “Go,” is muttered into the air. 

In the scope, you watch the head of your target explode into a mess of blood in black and white, the spray flying into the air like rain only to fall once more as the body drops. 

The conjoined teams do as they’re told, moving in the middle of chaos to grab at the second mark—one needle to the neck later, and it’s a limp form that they drag into the back of an awaiting van. 

“Mission success. Pack it up and let's get goin’.” John’s voice breaks you out of your focus, letting you blink at the disappearing van before you shift your head away entirely, taking a low breath. “Shepherd’ll have new orders.”

“‘Course he will,” you grunt, moving to push up into your knees and crack your back. 

It’s only after a moderate hike back into the woods that you see him waiting, having trekked back from his perch as well, through bugs and branches. The rifle is slung over your back, just as his is loosely held in front of him. 

“John,” you mutter in greeting, slapping away a mosquito. Blue eyes glance your way, scar moving as a smirk meets your eyes. He never changed—even that mohawk is still the same. A disheveled dog down to the bone in his mouth.

“Dearie,” a firm nod is leveled. “Nice shot, then.”

“Ironic,” your head tilts, slowing as you meet him a few feet separated. A silence settles like steel to the hard floor, the long pause that draws on tension as a tight cord. 

John clears his throat, watching you as your eyes narrow, brow twitching. 

He steps once more towards you with one foot, leaning in.

“I suppose this is where I wait for you to slap me,” he tilts his head, still smirking. 

“I’m thinking about it,” you draw, blinking slowly. “Don’t tempt me, MacTavish. I don’t need disorderly conduct and assault on my record.” 

“Done worse.” You scowl.

“You’re acting like you want me to do it, damn freak.”

“I’m just saying I’d be expecting it, is all.” Smooth chuckles waft out as your hand waves in exasperation, walking forward. It’s only after you’re about to move into the trees and disappear from view that he calls once more to you. 

Your feet slow, but don’t stop.

“I really did miss you.” Eyelids moving just a tiny bit wider, your lips thinned out. Boots shuffle in the grass from behind you. “Thought you’d come back eventually, aye?” 

You stay silent, body still near the sentinels of old tree trunks. 

The parting of the two of you could have gone better—there were some things that couldn’t be fixed. You’d always be at each other’s throats, needless of missions or personal matters. 

You look over your shoulder to lock with digging blues—the structure of John’s face always seared into your mind so much so you could draw it even if years had passed.

“You never gave me a reason to stay.” 

He blinks in surprise, but you’ve already shifted away, heart pinched. 

“Good working with you, Captain,”  you say, already gone. Memories linger in the air, suffocating you. Your eyes close tightly, and you grit your teeth. “Call me if you need me.”

A shout echoes above the yells from the town far into the distance, meeting your ears. 

“I plan on it!”

You huff under your breath, but your skipping heart betrays you.

[deiastormborn]

Arcane Act 3 Theories (and my take on Caitlyn so far)

Just finished watching the Act 2 and, good Lord, this was... something. I've been talking with my friend a lot about it and possible future of the show, so I thought to share it here for people to discuss it with me.

OBVIOUSLY, SPOILER WARNINGS! If you didn't watch the act 2 yet, do NOT read.

A few things I want to focus on here:

Vander

Cait & Vi & Jinx trio

Viktor

Let's start with Vander. Man, this whole thing broke me. I wasn't expecting a good outcome considering we know now that he is Warwick, and the current state of Warwick is no longer human. I assume he is not completely dead, I'm sure Singed had some fucked up idea on how to transfer the mind of Vander to another beast. I do imagine, however, that either Viktor's death, or the blast done by Isha, might have removed anything human that was left of him. Singed has spoken about Vander's strong resilience and will to live, so some part of him was still alive - after that explosion, my theory is, the Vander we know is gone now. I suppose next act we will see Warwick in it's pure beast form.

Next point: have you guys noticed anything about the scene between Silco, Vander and Vi/Jinx's mom?

Silco is an obvious representation of Jinx, it was obvious from the first season, even his hairstyle is somewhat similar to hers.

Vander is Vi, in its purest form, he even ironically gave her name.

Their mother, Felicia, is... oddly so similar to Caitlyn.

We know that Silco and Vander haven't been getting along too much, even before the betrayal we know of in season 1. Felicia even happens to scold them a bit before the scene starts. However, they all seem united together, in peace and harmony, especially with the news that Felicia was pregnant. You can see that Silco came closer when he heard the news, and the whole 'Blisters and Bedrock'... I might start using that one. My theory is, what if Caitlyn somehow plays a part in bringing Jinx and Vi closer? While I know that in League of Legends, Vi and Jinx are not allies at all, however, it's not the first story line that was different in Arcane to the lore of League. They were already getting along in order to help Vander, and you can see how much Vi started to soften up when she saw the interactions between Isha and Jinx. Now that Isha is dead, and I think we don't need to argue that she is most definitely dead, Jinx will need Vi. Question is, of course, whether Caitlyn will be able to get over her grief and hatred towards Jinx due to her mother's death, but she did manage to control herself when she met her (yes, she was angry at first, cut her some slack though, you don't just get over stuff like that).

Something tells me, due to the trailer of Act 3, that Jinx might help protect both Zaun and Piltover from Ambessa and Viktor. What if Caitlyn plays the same role as Felicia played for Silco and Vander before she died? Who knows, if she was still alive, maybe Silco and Vander wouldn't get into the mess they got.

(I also want to take a moment and defend Caitlyn here: while you guys were angry at her, please take a moment and transfer that anger on Ambessa instead. Caitlyn was in a grief, blaming herself for everything that went down with Jinx, because she could have stopped her and she didn't, leading to many deaths, including her mom's. She also was thrown into being a head of her family, having to accept the legacy. AND she didn't have a moment to sit down and work with her grief, due to the whole Enforcer role she is playing. While what she said to Vi, about her being 'just as bad' as Jinx, wasn't good, but it was also justified from her eyes. In her eyes, Vi wasn't defending Isha from being shot, she was defending Jinx, and i'm pretty sure we all saw, including Caitlyn, that Vi hesitated killing Jinx even before Isha jumped in to save her. Ambessa used Caitlyn in an unstable position, but AS SOON as Caitlyn saw Vi, and Caitlyn told her about Vander, she SNAPPED BACK. Caitlyn was never evil. She was broken. And her romance with Maddie - please remember there is an obvious time skip between act 1 and act 2, and act 3 also seems to be happening after some time passed. She was allowed for a new relationship, considering that her relationship with Vi lasted... 1 episode anyway.)

Now for my biggest theory with everything that happened to Viktor. I think we can all agree that Viktor is not dead. And while everyone is hating Jayce now, let me just say this: did you see in what state he was? All of the PTSD flashbacks and hallucinations? He has seen something TERRIBLE. While you like Viktor, so do I, please understand that Jayce wasn't acting like this for nothing. My theory is, since Jayce is either from the future, or some alternative reality he travelled to, and, before he killed Viktor, we heard a flashback of him talking to someone and 'I promise I won't fail this time', I assume that this is all Ekko's doing. Since Ekko and Heimer are not in the picture yet, something tells me that Ekko finally became stronger and learned to craft his trinkets for time travel better than before. I think he sent Jayce back to stop Viktor, either from the future or from that alternative reality. Additionally, I think this is all a big mistake on Ekko's part, too. Viktor talked to Singed about fate, and if we know of fate, Jayce and Ekko did not stop the events they were trying to stop. By killing Viktor, and him coming back to life somehow, this sort of betrayal probably removed his last hope in humanity, which will lead to the 'glorious evolution' and Viktor becoming a full cult leader with machine-like ideology. While Viktor seems to be good, he did still start a cult, and shreded people he healed from actual humanity. They were acting in the way Viktor wanted them to act, he could connect his mind to theirs like puppets. His intentions were pure, but the outcome was already bad. We can only imagine how bad it got in the future or that reality. And with Jayce hurting Viktor's 'human body', Viktor will completely loose his mind and turn to metal as he did in the League of Legends lore. I assume he will be the reason Piltover is getting attacked as well. And, since we all saw Oriana's picture, but not her in her current state, something tells me that Viktor will help Singed create Oriana the way we know her - a full robot with some resemblance to her real self.

Here's a thing though:

I think Jayce saw the future, but not how it happened. I think him, and possibly Ekko, decided that, by killing Viktor, they can stop this future from happening, but I actually think they made it worse. I think the whole reason Viktor went insane is because of this event. It's a Greek Tragedy. While they thought killing Viktor will stop him, they actually created a monster instead.

I'll be sad to see Viktor be evil, but, in a way, it all makes sense. In a very tragic way, but it does.

What if the Hextech is actually something from the Void? It's purple.

Alternative theory would be that, while Jayce and Heimer and Ekko were trapped in the core, and while Viktor was actively messing around with it, Jayce witnessed what it does to people that Viktor has been 'fixing'. He does hallucinate some kind of zombies when he looks at the people that Viktor interracted with. Though, then I would not know how Jayce was the only person who got out. Maybe that rune in Jayce's wrist will explain all of it.

This was all of my theories for now.

[jo-harrington]

Closing Time (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie watches the reader slay a dragon. (Reader works at Claire's in StarCourt and deals with a shitty customer before closing the store.)

Previous Part: Leave of Absence

Warnings/Themes: Semi-established relationship (friendship? Eddie isn’t sure what they are either), fluffy. Reader is not a Hawkins native, but it's kind of just implied. Eddie is a romantic boy and makes everything fantastical in that silly head of his. Also he makes a crude (ish?) joke. Typical teenage boy/young adult stuff. Nothing crazy,

Note: This is my first drabble I'm actually posting. (I haven't written actual fics in a hot minute, only headcanons). I hope it's good, but it really was an opportunity for me to get my frustrations out after work in a store for the first time in 2 years since I moved to corporate. And I kind of liked it so I might write more. (Therapy who?)

(Future Jo here...You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.)

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

___

"Ma'am, I'm sorry that this is confusing, but it's store policy."

"Then I'd like to speak to the store manager."

"I am the store manager," you explained, smile dropping right off your face only to be replaced by a cool mask of indifference.

Eddie stood just outside of the store, leaning against a railing that overlooked the Food Court, and watched you. It was a Sunday, which meant the mall was closed early, and all of the stores were dark except for yours. The gate was halfway down, but he could still see the tenacity--the ferocity--in your eyes as you dealt with an unruly customer and it took everything in him to ignore the little shiver that went up his spine.

When Eddie first gotten a job at Tape World, he had briefly wondered if it was a mistake. He had mostly been given closing shifts to offset gigs at the Hideout on Tuesdays and Hellfire on Fridays. Not to mention school once it was back in session. And seeing how closing shifts meant he was missing out at the opportunity to be dealing at local parties over the summer...well he didn't need to pass algebra to know it was costing him some potentially serious cash.

But the pay at Tape World wasn't awful and it was steady. Wayne seemed to be proud of him for finally having a steady job, despite the assurance that he would always be proud of Eddie. The discount was nice, and his manager let him promote Corroded Coffin shows at the counter.

And then there was you.

At first glance, it didn't make sense to anyone. You with your pastel purple name tag, mega-watt smile, trendy clothes, and stacks of scrunchies. And Eddie with his alleged devil-worshipping, superior taste in music, non-conformity, and hair wild either from too much head banging or the single window AC unit in his trailer. Shit, even he didn't understand it in the beginning; he thought you were everything he said he hated.

But you weren't.

Just like he wasn't everything the entire town said he was either.

Instead he found someone who was just like him, only sort of not at all, with your own flock of lost little bedazzled, pastel and neon sheep that you were protective of. You were a misunderstood soul, a compassionate leader, and one of the most patient people he ever met.

Except for right this minute.

The lights in the mall itself started to dim and the music went silent. Yet, there you still stood in front of one of the local PTA moms as she complained about a return.

She had already been in the store when Eddie arrived to meet you at the end of your shift. (Sunday nights were your...well, Eddie didn't know what to call them. Not date nights; not yet at least.) And you had given him one quick, apologetic glance over her shoulder before you geared up for battle.

But Eddie had been watching as your mood devolved ever since, and you went from understanding, to annoyed, to fuming. And here you were now, looking as though you could singlehandedly manifest a pit to open up beneath Loudmouth Linda to swallow her whole if she carried on with her rant.

And it was kind of hot.

Eddie wouldn't consider himself someone who thought anger was sexy. It was scary. He had seen the way his father would get angry over the most minor things and it stayed with him his entire life. He would freeze, even at the most minor indication that anger was being directed towards him. From his father, from a teacher, from Officer Callahan--although Hopper was usually there to rescue him from that one.

It was different when it came to bullies at school or the townies that spoke in hushed tones when he passed them by. He could stand up to the jocks and the popular kids that pushed him and his friends around. He could ignore the scathing looks from the busybodies at the grocery store. And as much as it hurt to be cast away by almost everyone he met for years, he knew that it wasn't anger--actually he wasn't sure what it was, really--that caused them to do those things.

Just like it wasn't really anger that fueled your fight for the past fifteen minutes. It was purely righteous indignation as you were attacked by this absolute dragon of a woman.

Deep down, he wished he could be your savior, having dealt with the spitting venom of these townies before on numerous occasions. But you were no damsel, and this wasn't your first battle either. You took every insult with grace, every octave of a raised voice was met with an equally raised voice before going back to calm. You verbally jousted, using every trick in your book, and when they didn't work...

"Once again it is against the policy of StarCourt Mall to have customers in the building this late past close and I will have to call Mall Security to come and escort you out regardless of your choice ma'am. So we can either proceed with your return and you get the money back that you paid and not a cent more or I tell my staff and security that you are no longer welcome in this place of business. And security will have to take your picture as they escort you out."

...You simply slayed the beast. With a smile. Although Eddie believed you were actually just baring your teeth in warning.

There was that shiver up his spine again, and were those goosebumps on his arms?

He sort of hoped to be on the receiving end of those teeth sometime soon.

Regardless, your customer was left speechless as you processed her return and called security to escort her to the exit. Eddie smiled smugly as they passed him by.

It didn't take long for the lights of your store to finally shut and for you to duck under the gate before locking it.

He didn't even get a chance to congratulate you on your victory and tell you how absolutely epic you were before you were walking face first into his chest and sighing as your arms went around his waist in a hug.

“Hey,” he chuckled and put his arms around you, one hand instantly rubbing up and down your back.

“Hi.” Your reply was muffled and you squeezed him a bit harder.

"Y'ok there?"

"Yeah," you responded quietly and rubbed your cheek against his t-shirt. “You wanna get DQ?” You looked up at him for a second.

“I could use a blizzard,” he agreed.

“Cool,” you sighed and settled back against him. “People suck.”

“They do.”

The two of you stayed like that in relative silence for a few minutes and as much as Eddie wanted to go on--to tell you that the lady was out of line, that she was entitled, and that he could never handle it as smoothly as you did--he knew that wasn't what you needed right now.

He momentarily wondered that it wasn't all bad, not being your knight, when he could instead be the home you returned to after battle.

And he would happily do it, even if you never asked him to.

"You know," he finally broke the silence. "I've heard people threaten to call security many times. Mostly on the receiving end, sometimes as an innocent bystander."

"Oh yeah?" You finally looked up at him, nose wrinkling with a smile.

"But I think that was the first time it almost gave me a boner," he admitted.

"Eddie!" you pushed away from him and slapped his arms as you laughed, eyes shining with joy. Your worries were not forgotten, he knew, merely smoothed over by, hopefully, your adoration for him. "You fucking perv!"

"I said almost," he defended.

He would be there. Happily.

Next Part: Team Building

[rillils]

do you ever think abt how we couldve seen more of nomad steve

NOMAD STEVE MY BELOVED

ohhh we were robbed, honey, in so many ways! imagine what we could have had!

- more footage of this man, luscious lovechild of hercules and adonis, most glorious chunk of deliciousness, sexy teddy bear man, the mane of a lion and the eyes of a puppy, mr Dirtied Up Good™, holy shield straps of sex, elected man with the sluttiest forearms of 2018 through 2024

- more of this Steve, who ain't playing dancing monkey for anyone anymore, who ain't asking for permission and/or forgiveness from anybody, who isn't taking anybody's shit, he just wants to fight for what he feels is right and he's not going to apologize for that, thank you very much

- his developing friendship with both Sam and Nat! them fighting like a unit! trusting each other, leaning on each other! learning more about each other! actually getting to know Steve, and his fun side, and his darker side, and his brooding side, and his silly side, and nagging him when they know he needs help but he's just too damn stubborn to ask for it

- FOUND FAMILY FOUND FAMILY FOUND FAMILY

- the three of them trying to comfort each other, each in their own (sometimes clumsy/awkward) way when a mission goes wrong, learning random words from random languages from one another (especially swear words they might have picked up in their respective times abroad lol), watching old sitcoms in their downtime, laughing together, hell even crying together, sharing too little space for too long, complaining about each other's unwashed socks, and still falling asleep on top of each other

- the few times Sam got to call his parents from a safe location. can you imagine Steve talking on the phone with Mrs Wilson? scared at first that she'll tear him a new one for putting her son in so much danger and dragging him away from home? but her knowing all too well that nobody's ever been able to make Sam do something he didn't want to do, that this was his own decision? and she's not actually mad at Steve, she just wants to make sure that "all of you kids are alright"? can you imagine Steve holding back tears the first time he hears a mother's voice talking to him, reminding him to be careful, to stay safe, after so long without it? do you think I'm crying???? I AM

- THE SKYPE CALLS WITH BUCKY

- actually EVERY SINGLE KIND OF INTERACTION WITH BUCKY, even when he's not there. Steve gazing longingly at a picture of Bucky, either physical or digital, that he makes sure to keep on him at all times. taking it out when he's lying awake at night, and everything's quiet except for Sam's snoring and the muffled sounds from the streets, and Steve thinks he saw Nat's eyes watching him in the dimness, but neither of them are going to say anything. he's just sitting in the dark, picture in hand, twirling some secret worry around in his head and missing Bucky so much it hurts. and those times (although he tries to keep these to a minimum) when he just can't help himself: he sneaks out of the room and calls Bucky, just to hear his voice. to listen to Bucky speak softly to him, his voice a little rough from sleep, but always so warm, so sweet for him. and Steve just leans his head back against the wall, and closes his eyes, and imagines he's curled up into Bucky's side, his head resting on Bucky's shoulder, with Bucky's fingers carding through his hair, and it's only then that he finds a little peace again

- all the videocalls with Bucky! the playful banter!! them arguing like an old married couple one moment, and exchanging the most besotted looks the next! Nat and Sam having to put up with all of their old-men-in-love shenanigans, and Steve never hearing the end of it lol

- Steve!! literally bounding out of the quinjet like an excited puppy when they visit his husband Bucky in Wakanda!!! overjoyed and not even bothering to hide it anymore after like the second or third time, 'cause everybody knows by now anyway!!

- all of them actually getting to rest for a while, and Steve enjoying his impromptu honeymoon with Bucky, savoring each day like it's both the first and the last of their life together, love sparkling in his eyes, happier than he's ever been before, finally free, ironically, now that he's an outlaw and a fugitive, and finding utmost delight in that knowledge

WE WERE ROBBED BLIND, HONEY

[its-warm-in-here]

Grilled Cheese

In which V and Johnny grill a cheese. 1970 words!

“Grilled cheese.” 

This does not pull V from her feed. She ignores the engram, a practice she was getting pretty good at, and scrolls through the net. Silverhand was getting... a bit too familiar in her skull. Lingering where he wasn’t wanted, interjecting nasty comments about, pretty much, everything. Now, he’s lounged out on her mattress just around the corner, one leg hanging off the bed, fingers tapping to some unheard beat against the plastic frame. V turns the K-Techno song up a notch and clicks to the next page on the feed. Oooh, Panam and Mitch will be in town this weekend, good to know. 

After a moment, he speaks again. “Think you can manage that?” 

Huffing, she pulled away from the net, spinning the chair around, and peered out into the little apartment.  “Manage what?” 

“A grilled cheese,” Johnny asks again, more to the ceiling, than to her. “Even a gonk like you has a hot plate. Bread’s still a thing in NC?”

That makes her short circuit. Who the hell needed a hot plate anymore? She’d just stocked up the vendor in her apartment, there were sandwiches included in her latest package, why the hell would she need a hot plate? And where the hell would she even keep it? The little apartment in Watson wasn’t outfitted with a counter, let alone a kitchen.  “Yeah, it is. But, uh, no. I don’t.” 

Johnny leans around the little wall separating them in disbelief, before glitching in and out of existence to dwell mournfully in the doorway to her computer space. “There’s more use to a hot plate than just cooking V. Its an essential part of any grifter’s apartment. What, next you’ll tell me you don’t have a pan either? Feed me any more of that ‘sashimi’ crap and I’ll puke.” 

Her mouth goes dry. Sure, some folks in Night City knew how to cook. V would kill for a pot of Mama Wells’ pozole, and the jambalaya that River and his sister had served was preem. But cooking was reserved for those in luxury or for those too impoverished to afford the instant foods that Night City had on offer. V was neither. 

Reading her face (and mind), Johnny hung his head, “Sad, V.”

Scowling, she turns back to the screen, “Like you’ve ever cooked a single thing in your fucking life. Probably had your groupies do it. Entitled prick like you probably threw a fit if they got you wheat bread instead of rye.”  V says the words like she knows what they mean. Most of the bread Night City had on offer was the foamy tasting white stuff that either went stale immediately after opening or it lasted wayyy past the expiration date making one wonder if the bread had taken on some form of sentients before it was tossed into the bin. 

“Maybe,” he admits, disappearing from view, then glitching back so he’s partway between V and her screen, “It came with the lifestyle. But even I could handle myself with something this basic. Bread, a smear of butter and slices of pepperjack and sharp cheddar? Cooked over high heat, till the bread’s charred and cheese is molten like a volcano. Hell, mouth’s drooling just thinking about it.” 

And it is. V can't even recall when, if ever, she’d ever had a grilled cheese sandwich, but Johnny sure the hell can. She can almost taste the savory crunch, the stretch of melted cheese on the back of her tongue. Johnny’s mouth turns up at the memory. “You’re not letting this go, are you?” 

He shakes his head, grin taking hold, “It's not like I'm even asking for a smoke this time.” Johnny leans against her desk, getting in close and making her optics fragment. “Come on, V. What do you say?”

---

It's raining in Night City when she finally decides to track this down. The electrically charged sky was grey, blotting out holograms that hung in the air and for once the stench of Dogtown didn't reach her nose. On her way back from a gig from Mr. Hands, V spots a pawn shop sporting a slew of old tech. Most of its junk: tape decks, out of date processing units, instruments that needed to be tuned up, but there's a handful of kitchen gadgets. Finding a glass hot plate with the proper hook up wasn’t too hard and there was even a frying pan for a reasonable price. She hits up Tom’s Diner to bum the rest of the supplies. The ingredients are hardly anything  but he had several types of cheese on hand, so it’ll have to do. 

Shaking the water from her jacket, V shrugs it off, draping it at the entrance of her little apartment, before setting the hot plate up on her coffee table and setting it to medium heat. She then turns to the mirror, stripping off her waterlogged eyeliner before returning to the couch. Johnny was already in his normal spot, one leg crossed over the other, brown eyes hidden behind aviators to hide the judgment in his stare. It didn't work. “Couldn't even spring for the good shit?”

“It's grilled cheese. Not yellowfin tuna,” she fires back, smearing the butter on the almost stale bread. “Now walk me through this.” 

“Never had to cook for yourself?” Johnny muses, leaning forward to observe her amature technique of peeling neon orange cheese from the sleeve of plastic. 

V scowles at him and plops the bread onto the pan with a sizzle. “If I burn this shit, it’ll be your fault.” At that, Johnny scoots closer so he’s leaning over her shoulder. The engram isn't really there, but the hoops her brain jumps through to make sense of another being residing in it certainly makes him feel real. She can feel the air move to make space for the rockerboy, the brush of his chrome shoulder against hers.

“Put three slices on,” he insists, making her unwrap another. “Now the other one.” Following his instructions, she places the other buttered piece atop the cheese.

“Think I'm good to flip it?”

“Don’t rush it,” Johnny says. It shouldn't be this easy to slip into domesticity with the engram, but it feels natural. Like they fit together. He nods at her, she jiggles the pan, freeing the crisped bread from the non-stick surface then uses a wrist flick to knock the sandwich into the air. It hangs there for a moment and for a split second, a burst of panic shoots through her at the thought that it couldn't complete the turn and come crashing back down into a sloppy, burney mess. But the sandwich lands with a satisfying plop. The cooked side is a crispy golden and cheese is starting to melt out the sides. 

“Smells great.” 

There's a swell of pride in her chest at his words. “Don’t say anything till I’m done. Could still burn it.” 

“It’s better burned. Gives it some flavor. Kicks it up a notch.” 

Neither speaks for a moment, she doesn't even bother turning the TV on. Instead opting to observe the bread, just in case it burst into flames. There is a little smoke from the cheese melting but it's not ruined yet. She moved the pan again, making sure it does not stick. V knew very little about cooking, but if this came out alright, maybe it was something she could actually get good at. Using a fork, she lifts to check. 

“Well? Does the curtain match the drapes?” He is always so crass. 

V makes a face. “That does not even make sense. But, yeah, its done.” She slides the bread onto a paper plate before finally relaxing back. The  sandwich is too hot yet and V flicks on the tv. Zoning out. There’s nothing on TV, but it's kind of nice. Just chilling at home, no pressing missions, just waiting on a call from Reed. She curls her legs under her and leans her cheek against the low back of the couch. If Johnny had any real mass to him, she’d be resting against his shoulder. He’s stretched out, one arm slung over the couch, a boot resting on her coffee table as he has a pre-emptive ghost cigarette. There’s no real smoke, but the memory of the nicotine stings her nose. 

After a moment, she slides the paper plate closer, testing the heat with her fingers before biting down into the cheap meal. The bread is crunchy, the char covering any staleness, and the cheese has a salty, funky, melty flavor. Not too bad for her first pass. She hums, satisfied. 

“Any good?” Johnny presses. 

It’ll be a good few minutes before her brain relays the taste to him. She nods, wishing she could just pass him the sandwich. “Not half bad.” She takes another bite, the smell of charred sandwich mixing with the acrid smell of his cigarette. “Ask nicely and maybe I’ll make another some time.” Johnny lets a single laugh resonate in his chest. Damn, she loved that sound. Not that she’d ever tell Johnny that. 

Hell, he probably already knew. 

V is about half way through the meal and Johnny is done with his cigarette, but the smoke smell continues to hang in the air. If anything, it's getting worse. There's a haze. V glances again at the engram, nope, he hadn't lit up another. So where was---?

Above, the holo screens flash red and an alarm blares through the apartment. “FIRE. IMMEDIATELY EXIT THE APARTMENT. FIRE.” The screens show a dramatized version of her little apartment with directions on how to exit with little anime chickens on fire darting around the edges. 

She crushed her palms over her ears, eyes wildly darting around the apartment before landing on the smoldering pan on the still very hot hotplate. The residue of melted cheese and breadcrumbs had transformed into a ball of carbon and smoke, the little plastic fort she’s used in improvised spatula had begun to liquify and seal onto the pan, setting off the oversensitive fire system. “Shit, shit, shit!” Leaping to action, V grabs the pan by the handle, drops it into the bathroom sink and turns on the water. It vaporizes to steam the moment it hits the pan, ruining it, but the water stops it from smoking. If she didn't get this smoke out now, the sprinkler system would trip any second. She punches the button to open the windows and, using the pillow from her bed, she stands on her tiptoes and waves it back and forth, forcing the air to circulate. Johnny’s laughter cuts through the alarms, as he watches her scramble.  Scorn zips through her, but she does not have time to express her contempt. The air is moving through the apartment though, and after minutes of waving her arms like a gonk, the alarm finally turns off and her screens return to their stream of content. She drops back onto the couch, groaning and drapes her forearm over her eyes. V sinks low, catching her breath. 

“Smooth one, V.” 

Before he can add any more to that sentence, she cuts him off with her middle finger. “Not another fucking word, Silverhand.” He keeps his mouth shut and she risks glancing at him. If Johnny didn't look stoic or broody, he was smug. And this is the smuggest she’d ever seen the rockerboy. “What?”

Johnny’s brown eyes go between her and the half eaten grilled cheese on the table. “Gonna finish that?” 

V growles, grabs the sandwich and throws it at him. The bread phases right through, probably making a mess of her couch. He flips her off in turn, laughs then glitches away to some spot at the edge of her brain and out of sight. 

Asshole.  

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Haunted: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Summary: This is Hotch's first case back since being stabbed by Foyet. As much as he says he's fine, he's not and he's letting his emotions affect the case in a negative way.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"One need not be a chamber to be haunted, one need not to be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place." - Emily Dickinson

Spencer isn't used to not being able to do things on his own so helping him get ready for work is a challenge.

"Will you stay still?" you say and grab his pants. 

"I can do it. Give it to me."

"Spencer Walter Reid. Stop moving and let me help you."

He freezes at the mention of his middle name. No one knows it but you, apparently.

"How did you...?"

"I've seen your driver's license. Now sit down and give me your leg."

Spencer sits on the edge of the bed and stretches his bad leg out to you so you can pull his pants on. It's been a month of recovering from both Hotch and Spencer. This is going to be his first day back since getting out of the hospital, and you're not sure how this is gonna go. It could either go horribly wrong and he'll need to take more time off or he'll be back on his feet. Emily wanted to pick Hotch up and drive him to the airport even though he'd been cleared to drive on his own.

With no unit chief in the office, you have a few minutes to yourself so you and Spencer head to Penelope's office to hang with her until Hotch comes in. Spencer hobbles into her office and she pulls up a chair for him.

"Thank you."

"Does it hurt?"

"It really only hurts when I think about it, which is pretty much all the time."

You place your hands on his shoulders from behind and massage his muscles gently.

"Don't worry, I've been very good at distracting him." Penelope laughs as Spencer looks at you with a smile on his face. You lean down and kiss him Spiderman-style. It's becoming one of your favorite positions to kiss him. When you pull away, you rake your fingers through his hair. "When are you gonna let me braid your hair?"

"Never," he says playfully and pushes you off him. Penelope has a box of cookies on the table, and he reaches to grab one but she slaps his hand away and slaps the lid on it. "Hey!"

"These are for Hotch," she says and puts a bucket of lollipops on top of them.

"I get shot in the leg and I don't get any cookies? You know he's gonna hate the attention," Spencer says and grabs a lollipop.

"It's cookies, not cake."

"He's probably gonna pretend like nothing happened," you state.

"Well, it doesn't mean we have to."

"I think maybe we should."

"I don't roll that way."

"I've been thinking about the entire time I've known Hotch, I don't think I've ever seen him blink," Spencer says.

"I know. It's weird."

"It's classic alpha male behavior."

"Do you think he stared down Foyet?" Penelope asks fearfully.

"Yes. I saw it. He didn't go down without a fight, that's for sure."

"Do you think he stared the whole time, like with each stab?"

"Yes."

"Is he okay?"

"I wouldn't be, but I'm a blinker," Spencer says, and you kiss the top of his head.

The door opens and JJ walks in with files in her hands.

"Spence, Y/N, there you two are. Grab your go bag."

"What's going on?"

"Turn on the news."

Penelope turns on one of the news channels that's talking about the most recent crime your team is going to investigate.

"Just after eight this morning, forty-year-old Darrin Call, a lifelong resident of Louisville, assaulted customers at the pharmacy on the corner of Main and Truxton Avenue. Eyewitnesses saw him walking east on Main Street minutes after the attack. He has not been seen since then. He was wearing a blue shirt, jeans, and a light-gray jacket. Within the hour, the Governor has called in all sources for a manhunt. Despite these statewide efforts, the suspect has eluded law enforcement. The body count is rising. Three are confirmed dead including an armed bank guard whose gun was used in the attack. Another two remain in critical condition. The assailant is still out there. We are going back to Eric Jennings who's been talking to residents of Louisville residents."

"We're going to Louisville."

"Alright. Bye, Pen."

You get up and escort Spencer out of her office over to his desk. You grab both yours and his bag since he can't carry his own and use his crutches, and you two head out with the team to the airplane. Spencer takes the couch to rest his leg while you take one of the chairs surrounding the small table.

"Our point person in Louisville is Lieutenant Kevin Mitchell," JJ says.

Just then, Hotch and Emily walk onto the plane, and you immediately feel anger coming off Hotch in waves. He has a stoic look on his face like always but the anger is stewing deep down inside him. It's a calm anger and it's all for Foyet.

"Good morning," Hotch greets.

"You look well, sir," Penelope says over video chat.

"Thank you. How long do you have that?" Hotch asks Spencer about his crutches.

"I'm not really sure. Welcome back."

"Thanks. Any other attacks?"

"No, not yet. Call's proven hard to track. He's never had a driver's license, so he's most likely still on foot or public transportation."

"No, he's not gonna take the bus. His face is everywhere," you shake your head.

"Has anyone found a stressor?"

"He just lost his job," Penelope explains. "He's worked at a factory since 1990 making appliances and not a single promotion."

"That's a long time to be bitter."

"Yeah, he's of the hermit variety. As far as I can tell, he's got no one. No wife, no kids, and no parents."

"Nothing to live for. Why hasn't he killed himself yet? Sprees usually end in suicide. If he's got nothing to live for, why hasn't he ended it?"

"He's not finished yet," Spencer answers Hotch. "We know he has displaced anger. He took it out on the first victim."

"The stock boy represents someone. We need to know who. Is he military?"

"No."

"He's lashing out for a reason. This guy's got anger, endless targets, and a gun. He's just getting started."

When the plane lands, you go off with Derek and Hotch to the crime scene at the pharmacy while Spencer and JJ head to the police station to get set up. Lieutenant Kevin Mitchell is waiting for them as soon as they walk in, and he's eager to get started. Before your team landed in Louisville, he created checkpoints on the state's lines at both the I-64 and I-65 and within a twenty-mile radius downtown. They think he's still on foot.

Take into consideration the average walking speed of two and a half miles per hour, and it's been just under three hours, then that adds up to an approximate eight-mile radius. First responders started a hard-target search of businesses and residences within that eight miles, and you're going to join them.

The lieutenant dug up all he could on Darrin Call but didn't find much. Me and Rossi are at his apartment so they might be able to find something the police couldn't. The strategy in all of this is to determine where he's headed next in order to stop him. Most spree killers are outwardly aggressive, and Darrin isn't that. He's defensive even if the video doesn't immediately show it.

You watch the video of Darrin over and over again until you see it. Darrin isn't aggressive until someone touches him. That's what set him off. It happens before he stabs someone. He hates being touched which is a trigger for him. 

He never meant to hurt these people, and he never went in there with a weapon. JJ is working with the media to inform them as soon as she possibly can. Darrin's apartment is a five-minute walking distance from the pharmacy but there is no sign at his apartment that he came back to wash off the blood, which means he's still bloody and walking around town like that.

Penelope says he doesn't have any family, so where is he going to go looking like that? He might be messy in the head and in his everyday life, but his apartment is really neat or maybe he's military or hospitalized which means he has the same routine every day.

However, today is different. He killed three people. Why did it change?

The energy left at the pharmacy is astounding. The energy is breaking off into different streams as if it's panicking. Darrin isn't right in the head and he is definitely going to hurt himself sooner rather than later. He's going to piss off the wrong person and get hurt.

"Hotch, he's losing his mind. His mind is tearing itself into pieces. This energy is being pulled apart." Hotch stares straight ahead without giving you any indication that he heard you. "Hotch, did you hear me?"

"Yeah," he nods and walks off.

Hotch isn't okay. Who would be after what he went through?

"Mr. Call was always so quiet. He's been coming here for years," a woman talking to Derek says.

She is the pharmacist responsible for giving out medications to people.

"Has he ever had a run-in with the stock boy?"

"I can't see why he would. John was new here. I waved him over. I didn't know what else to do. No one else was helping."

"He didn't turn violent until you gave him his prescription?" you ask.

"It wasn't his. It was somebody else's. I just wanted him to calm down."

"JJ's press conference is in five minutes," Hotch says when he joins the group.

"Hotch, we might have something else here. Why didn't you give him his own medication?" Derek asks the woman.

"He didn't have any refills left."

"For what?"

"Alprazolam, but he used to be on Thiothixene."

"He was on an antipsychotic?" Hotch asks.

"That's why I wanted him to calm down. He's been off his medications for about a month now."

"When were you gonna tell us this? He's armed and delusional. Who's his doctor?" Hotch asks angrily.

"I don't remember. My computer..."

You turn to see her computer had been damaged in the fight.

"Great," Hotch scoffs and walks off.

"I'm sorry."

You and Derek look at each other because Hotch is completely out of line for this.

"He's not listening to us. I've seen this kind of behavior before. He's not going to want to listen. Not until he catches Foyet." You two walk over to Hotch. "Hotch."

"Call JJ and tell her about the meds."

"This is not her fault and you know it."

"Morgan, he's in a psychotic break. It changes everything."

"Do you want to talk about this?"

"No! I want to find him!" Hotch sighs in frustration and pulls out his phone to call Penelope. "Garcia, he's been off his antipsychotic for a month. What else did you miss?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't get his medical records yet, so--"

"Find them. Find everything."

"Yes, sir."

x

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[heavenlyakin]

Atsumu Miya x Fem!Reader

Here's a little late Valentine's Day fic! Minors DNI.

Genre: mild angst, fluff, and smut (the holy trinity!) oh and a little comedy

Warnings: some light couple fighting/bickering, cunnilingus, fem reader.

Word count: 2.6k

Atsumu nearly loses it as you clench around him, body writhing beneath his. Your eyes flutter shut and your mouth parts open to let out another breathless moan. He fights back every urge he has to bust in you now, not wanting to end the pleasure for either of you. 

“Tsumu,” you whine, your eyes opening, glossy with love and lust.

He can’t take it anymore. There’s nothing he can do to stop himself. He cums deep inside you with a final thrust, his breath catching and then a groan escaping. He opens his eyes to look at you, but you start to fade from view. 

Atsumu wakes up abruptly, jerking his arms and sitting up. His forehead drips sweat as he shakes his head. Another wet dream, he realizes. Flipping the covers off him, he sees he’s made a mess of himself again. He flops back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing you’d just come home already. 

Looking over at his alarm clock, he sees it’s 3:34 am, just after lunchtime for you on the east coast of the United States. He never imagined you’d go no contact while visiting family back home, but he also never imagined you’d have such a detrimental fight just hours before your flight. 

–

2 Weeks Prior 

“That’s really close to Valentine’s day, right?”Atsumu asks you, peering over from the couch. You’re surprised to see he’s looked up from the volleyball game he put on half an hour ago. 

“Yeah, I’ll get back here on the 14th, actually.” You tell him, drying the final plate and putting it away in the cabinet. 

When you look back at Atsumu you see he’s frowning. 

“Look, I didn’t buy the ticket. If you have an issue with it, take it up with my dad.” You walk over, sitting down beside him on the sofa. 

He wraps his arm around you and you lean into him, curling up on the sofa beside him. His fingers lazily stroke your arm as you sit with him in silence. He’s watching the Argentinian team again, the one you can never remember the name of. All you do know is that one of the players is from Japan and going to be playing in the upcoming Olympics against Atsumu this summer. You assume he’s keeping tabs on him. 

“What if you didn’t go? I’ll pay to change your flights so you go after Valentine’s day and once practices pick up and I’m not home as often. I-” 

“Atsumu, why don’t you want me to go home?” You snap, sitting up and moving his arm off your shoulder. “I haven’t been home in over a year and missed Christmas with them.” 

“Baby that’s not-” 

“No, it is. You’ve been whining about this trip since my dad booked the flight.” You stand up, storming out of the room and to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. 

Atsumu has never made a big deal about Valentine’s day before, given you’ve spent two previous together you didn’t think it would be bad getting in on that day. Sure, you’ll be jetlagged and exhausted, but you’d still be able to go out if he wanted to, but last year you had takeout in your pajamas after a particularly long practice. Why would it be any different, especially since his prep for the Olympics has already been so intense, and will only begin to pick up more?

Either way, he’s not getting his way this time. It's not like you’re keeping score, but you tend to give in to his wants more now that you’ve moved in together, even sacrificing Christmas with your family to spend it with his family and meet Osamu's baby. How does he not understand that you just need a few weeks to spend with your family as well? 

You grab your suitcase from the closet and begin to fill it, rather haphazardly. You’re more productive when you’re worked up, anyways so you might as well use the energy. Plus you leave tomorrow night, it’s not like you have too much longer to get your stuff together. 

A light rasping knock draws your attention to the bedroom door. “Baby, I’m sorry, I just am going to miss you is all.” He says opening the door and leaning on the frame, looking rather defeated. 

“It’s fine,” you tell him, going back to packing your bag. “I just need some time to pack and then sleep before the trip tomorrow.” Atusumu looks defeated but smiles anyways and leaves the room.

Even though it’s clear he feels terrible about pestering you, it’s too late now for your attitude to shift. It’s not like you enjoy your sudden shift in mood, but once you're feeling foul there isn’t much you or anyone else can do about changing it. Overall, it’s just better to let you ride it out. 

–

Your nails bite into your palm as the plane starts to land. Flying has always been fine, but the landing has always made you nervous, mainly because you hatehow it makes you bounce around. Luckily, you didn’t have anyone beside you for the flight back home to Japan, so you have been comfortable for the long journey. 

You find yourself picturing Atsumu fighting the airport traffic, cursing and threatening to honk at the people in front of him. Usually, he’s the one at fault, but you’ve learned to just let him rant and rave since he never actually makes a fool of himself to others… just threatens it. 

The next half hour goes by in a flash, it’s grabbing carry-ons, waiting in line, and fighting for bags at baggage claim. Next thing you know, your phone is buzzing with Atsumu’s picture as he calls you. 

“Hi baby,” you answer softly, but loud enough to be heard over the airport chaos. 

“I’m right outside your terminal. Are you already off the plane?” He asks, not sounding as excited as you expected him to be. 

“Yeah, I just grabbed my bags.” You tell him. 

“Alright.” He’s in a mood, you assume. He’s rarely this short with you. 

Okay, I’ll be there soon.” You hang up as you head towards the exit doors. 

You see his car before you’re out of the doors. He managed to get a good spot right up front. Dragging your suitcases behind you, you manage to make it to the car without pulling anything. You’d only brought a carry-on home, but your parents had gone overboard to make up for your missing Christmas, you had to pay for two checked bags to bring back. 

Atsumu jogs towards you, taking the bags from you and loading them into the car, silently. He smiled, but that’s the most affection you received from him. You slide into the passenger seat, pulling out your phone, and scrolling to find some pictures to show Atsumu on the drive home and tell him about your trip. He hadn’t texted you much during the time you were away, so you assumed it was because he was so busy with practices so you didn’t bother calling or texting him more either. 

Atsumu gets in the driver’s seat and starts to take off. “Want to see some of the pictures from my trip?” You wave your phone around smiling. “Everyone missed you this time.” 

“Everyone?” He side-eyes you, and you frown. 

“What’s up your ass?” You ask, putting your phone away in your pocket. “I thought you’d be excited to see me.” 

He sighs, gripping the steering wheel harder. “You texted me twice, in two weeks. You never called. You were angry when you left. So, sorry if I’m not the Mr. Sunshine you expected.” 

“You’re seriously mad at me?” you almost laugh but decide it’s better if you don’t. It’ll probably only antagonize him more. “You could have texted or called me, but you didn’t.” 

He looks over, his brows furrowed. Opening his mouth, it looks like he’s about to speak but then he closes it again, deciding against whatever he was going to say. 

“Happy fucking Valentine's Day.” You sigh, leaning against the door of the car, looking out at the city as it passes you by. 

The rest of the car ride home is deadly silent. Neither of you even bothered to put on the radio or Spotify. It’s awkward but you refuse to give an inch and apparently, Atsumu feels the same way. You sneak a glance at him as you pull into the parking garage of your apartment, seeing he looks exhausted. How hadn’t you noticed that before? 

Maybe you should give in, you think to yourself. Before you left you had been snippy with him, even if you felt like he was trying to get you to not visit home. It’s stupid, how high your temper can run without stopping over little things like silly comments. You hadn’t even thought about it while you were gone, only focused on visiting and getting back here; home. 

Atsumu parks the car, and you look over at him again. His knuckles are still white from gripping the steering wheel. 

“Let’s not fight anymore.” You suggest softly, knowing his stubbornness won’t let him give in. This could be worse than the Cold War if you let it continue. 

He sighs, his hand reaching up to his forehead. He runs his fingers through his blonde hair, pushing it back from his face. “It’s been hell. These last two weeks, absolutely agonizing.” He admits, leaning back against the seat and looking over at you. 

“I’m sorry, Tsumu, I didn’t know.” You tell him, reaching out and taking his hand. 

“Wanna know something funny, though?” He smiles, the silly grin you love so much. 

“Sure,” you squeeze his hand softly. 

“I kept dreaming about fucking you, I couldn’t get it out of my head.” He laughs, tilting his head back and looking at the roof of the car. “God, I even came a few times in my sleep. Can you believe it?” 

“Oh god,” you laugh with him, imagining the way he must have been mortified waking up to that not only once, but a few times. “Maybe we can make up for it after dinner tonight.” 

“Dinner?” He looks confused as you nod. 

“It’s still Valentine’s day. It’s not too late for us to get ready and go out. I can be fast,” you open the door and get out of the car. 

Atsume follows, popping the trunk and getting your luggage from the car. You're quiet again as you take the elevator up to the apartment, but not the awkward kind as you rode in during the trip home. You hold his hand, leaning your head on his shoulder when you can until you’re out of the elevator and making your way to the apartment. 

The next bit is a rush, playing out in front of you like it’s not real. Maybe it’s jetlag? You had just traveled for upwards of 18 hours. Or it’s the rush of knowing after weeks you’re finally going to sleep with your boyfriend again? Not even the dirty kind, just the excitement of sharing a bed, your bed, is exciting after weeks of sleeping in the guestroom of your parent's house. 

After your shower, you dress in an emerald green dress that has a golden sheen to the fabric. Underneath, you made sure to pick out Atusmu’s favorite pair of lingerie underneath a honey gold set with thigh straps attached to the thong. 

“Holy shit,” Atsumu leans against the door frame of the bathroom as you’re applying your last coat of mascara. 

You smile sweetly, turning to look at him. He’s dressed in navy blue slacks and a cream button-up shirt. “I’m ready to go.” 

Atsumu pulls you by your hand into him, wrapping his other arm around you. “I’m not.” 

He kisses you, pulling you closer against him so you’re flush with his body. Your dress rides up in his hand, exposing your ass. He smacks it once, making you yelp against his lips. He laughs deeply. 

“There’s no way we’re making it out tonight.” He mumbles, his voice gruff. 

You giggle as he pulls away, pulling you with him and pushing you against the bed. Your dress has now risen above your pelvis, bunched up underneath and around you. Atsumu takes one look and groans, smiling wildly at you. 

“You fucking angel,” he drops to his knees in front of you. He licks you over the fabric of your thong, sending shivers down your spine in anticipation. “Would it be stupid if I told you you taste sweeter than honey?” 

You laugh, sitting up on your elbows. “Yeah, a little. But I like it.” 

He grins at you from between your thighs. His tongue pokes out again, slowly circling the fabric over your clit. The teasing pressure is too much, you want his tongue on you. Whining, you push yourself closer to the edge of the bed and he pulls back. 

“Ah ah ah, no rushing this. I’ve literally been dreaming of it for weeks.” He says after pulling away and lying his face on your thigh. He looks ungodly pretty like this, and you hate him for it. 

“Please, Atsumu I need you.” You whine, pouting your lip out. 

He grins again. He loves seeing you beg, even when it’s as half-assed as that. You can’t be expected to give more though, after all the day is starting to wear on you. 

He pulls the thong aside and drags his finger down your cunt, covering it in your wetness. “Fuck, you’re so needy.” 

You nod, closing your eyes and letting yourself fall back against the bed. As you bounce lightly against the mattress, Atsumu takes advantage, pressing his tongue against your clit. You moan, gripping the sheets and forcing yourself to stay still. 

He sucks lightly, sending waves of pleasure from your spine to your toes. 

“Fuck me,” you whimper, eyes fluttering open to watch him as he eats you out. He doesn't notice, too lost in you to care about what else is going on. His tongue slides down, teasing your entrance when you feel his fingers slip in. 

The stretch overwhelms you. You can't keep your eyes open now, closing them tight as he starts to finger fuck you while sucking your clit again. 

“Tsumu, of god,” you mumble out with moans traced between words and syllables. 

Gripping the bedding harder, you fight back the overwhelming urge to cum now. You hadn’t even masturbated while you were gone, and now it’s so much at once you’re struggling to stay afloat. Atsumu must know, the way he flicks his tongue and twists his fingers in sync sends you over and you cry out. Cumming you can’t help but arch your back and press your cunt further against Atsumu’s pretty face. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant quietly, trying to regain some composure after the waves of pleasure start to roll off you. 

“Oh, Angel, you barely lasted five minutes.” He crawls on top of you, his face shiny from being between your thighs. He kisses you softly on the lips. 

“Who can blame me?” You laugh, taking his face in your hands. You kiss him again, closing your eyes and feeling the exhaustion taking over your body. “I doubt you’ll last much longer.” 

You push him off you, flipping positions. 

You pray he cums quickly as you pull his pants down his thighs. Not for any normal reasons but you’re not sure you can stay awake much longer. The eager look on his face suggests you might not have to.