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mazikeenhyde · 3 months ago

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Less than a minute...

(Ive decided to be brave, I always wanted to try my hand at writing fan fiction so here we go! If i got anything wrong, like warnings for example please let me know so i can fix it! )

WARNING –

A Poly!Judgment-Day fanfiction containing themes and mentions of DEPRESSION, LONLINESS, SOME SMUT, ANGST, SADNESS, ALCOHOL etc

Overall, I’m just trying to make you all cry…

READER X JUDGMENT DAY/POLY! – Rhea, Damien, Finn, Dominik x READER- Written in first person with Y/N (Reader Female)

Italic font – flashback, speech or memories

Less than a minute

The hotel room was quiet, the cheap TV fixed to the wall showing Monday night Raw on a low volume mixed in with the sounds of footsteps in the corridor, each sound filling the hot humid air. Outside the rain lashed down, heavy rainclouds hung low in the night sky blocking out the starlight, yet the full moon powered through, illuminating the streets, reflecting in the puddles that ran along the gutter line.

It was late, most of these anonymous guests rushing around just outside our door would be returning from busy work days to catch up on sleep or be heading out for a fun night on the town. A blissful life for most, a chance to escape their homes and stay in a bed with room service, maids to clean up after you and a reception for any assistance required! I hated it though; it wasn’t my choice but when you are on the road traveling for what felt like 300 days of the year with your partners there isn’t much of an option. A different country every month, a different state every week, Christ a different town every night. I longed for those one-off days where we were all free to do nothing. Something many people take for granted is the ability to do nothing, and I missed it.

Life felt far too chaotic, and despite being in a 5-way Polyamory relationship, I’d never felt so alone. I longed to go home, back to our own little house, we had been away for so long now. I could picture it, the front room shelves filled up high with my collection of books. My own little library I had spent a lifetime building now just collecting dust. The cabinets filled with Dominik’s board games that had bought about so many nights of endless laughter and equally some rather extreme arguments over winners, losers, cheaters and a half empty liquor cabinet that had been drained dry after a game of Scrabble. I still laugh now thinking back to when Rhea would demand the Alexa to define a word, we were sure Dominik had made up. Still, you could always rely on Finn to settle the score with a round of tequila shots and an accidental knock of the board.

“Oh no!” Finn would laugh as he ‘accidently’ kicked the board off and onto the floor.

“The board fell… guess we will have to play something else aye lass” he stated sarcastically, winking at me as he passed over one of the shot glasses.

“I wouldn’t say No to a game of Twister” Damien suggested, raising his eyebrows as he took his shot and ran his fingers down my back. I swear that man would give me goosebumps from the top of my head to the center of my core with just a passing look and that fiendish glint in his eye!

Rhea was quick to move herself over towards us resting her head in my lap, turning her view point to a more favored position. “I’ll second that” she smiled gently kissing the inner of my thigh, my breath was hitched, excited and on edge all at once.

“Well I’m calling it! I won..” Dominik stated with a huff as he began to pick the letter tiles up off the floor. Smirking over at him we each adorned a loveable gleam towards the boy. A little brat at the best and worst of times, but we wouldn’t have changed him for the world.

Moving Rheas head onto Damien’s lap where the two of them began their own little make out session I crawled my way round to Dom, helping collect the remaining tiles off the floor and boxing his board game up.

Smiling into his eye line I whispered ‘Never change who you are Dom Dom, We will always be here and we will always love you”

“What about when they break us up though?” he asked, I could hear the anxiety in his voice, his eyes. “I have to turn on Rhea and…and..”

I held him close, his hands holding tightly to my back and I could hear his gentle muffled cries.

“You’ll never be alone Dom, I love you so much. Even if I’m not always there to hold your hand, ill never be far away” I whispered in his ear.

“Less than a minuite?” he smiled.

-----

I couldn’t deny how much love I felt for each of them, work life had been tough for the four of them after the WWE had stated they would be splitting the group up to start a new storyline involving the likes of Liv Morgan, JD & Carlito. It didn’t stop the love we had for each other, but it certainly made traveling together difficult! I often reminded them that unlike myself none of them exactly blended into a crowd.

Sitting in the middle of this king size bed I pulled my knees up to my chest, I had stolen Damien’s hoodie and a pair of rhea’s gym shorts in the hopes of being comfortable enough to focus while I studied my textbooks, but alas tonight my mind was elsewhere. I had been studying Law for some time, it had always been such a passion of mine and thankfully no matter where we slept I could bring my books and get my head down while my partners entertained the world. It also came in quite handy when certain members of the group had one too many drinks on a night out and needed some help in escaping the police without legal prosecution. Dominik can tell the world he did hard time in jail all he likes, but it was me that got the little brat released early after a dramatic night with Rhea at his parents’ house on thanksgiving.

The WWE had offered me a position on their legal team once I had passed all my exams, yet that was over a year ago. I had deferred my exam date twice already, I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me but I didn’t feel the love, the passion or the joy I had done surrounding myself in plans for my future dream career, I was starting to worry I had wasted all these years for nothing.

Finn was always the voice of reason; he would often sit and help me revise while Rhea and Dom would shower together after the gym and Damien would take a nap. He was the voice of reason in the group, the glue that held us all together when things got tough. It was Finn that supported us all the most when our relationship went public, none of us had wanted to hide how we felt and the WWE were supportive, but that didn’t stop the online hate. The four of them were use to random strangers throwing insults due to the nature of their job, and thankfully I wasn’t of much interest to the fans. We had done our best to keep me away from the public eye, almost everyone just assumed I was part of the WWE teams supporting the group. There were a few fan speculation pages online who loved to play the guessing game but the majority saw me as nothing, as no one.

Finn always knew when something was wrong, he hadn’t wanted to leave me this evening but I had persuaded them all to go on the promise when they returned we could order in and cuddle up to watch a new release on tv if we connected Damien’s laptop.

“Chicken tenders! Ooh and nuggies?” Dom said, looking around the room in minor disbelief as we all looked at him with smiles. “What?” he asked.

“Really Dom? Chicken tenders, I’d never have guessed that bro. There’s me thinking you’d want Sushi!” Damien stated sarcastically with a smirk as he zipped up his duffel bag.

“Ew, raw fish? Bleugh! That’s gross!” Dom was genuinely disgusted at the idea.

“Hey! Don’t knock Sushi you little squinnie! Just because the rest of us have some foodie culture, your mother should have had you expand your pallet better!” I replied as I walked over and flicked Dom on the head. He was quick to wrestle me up and onto his shoulder, spinning me round onto the bed where he climbed on to pin me down.

“Uh Excuse me! I think you’ll find…Mami! has expanded my pallet just fine hermosa!” He stated, daring his lips closer to mine.

“Oh I bet..” I whispered to him closing the gap between us, our lips aching to touch. “Your pallet has had its fair share of tasting sessions aye Dom Dom”

Before he could respond Damien wrapped his arms around Dominik’s waste pulling him off me and planting him back down to earth, ruffling his hair upon release.

“Alright you two, break it off!” Damien patted Dom on the chest as he tossed over his rucksack from the chair. I bought my chest up leaning back on my hands winking at Dom as he scowled at me with a mix of frustration and cheek.

Rhea walked out from the bathroom with Finn following in tow, slapping Dom on the ass and wrapping her arm around his neck.

“Behave yourself Dom Dom” Rhea said before looking over at me on the bed, “You too Bunny, Brats be warned there will always be consequences.” She laughed and pulled Dom towards the hotel door blowing me a kiss as the two of them headed out to work. Damien followed suit leaning down on the bed to kiss my forehead.

“Te amo, Hermosa” he held the back of my neck touching foreheads before following Rhea and Dom.

“Ill catch up with you three downstairs” Finn said and Damien gave him a thumbs up as he headed out the hotel room door and closed it behind them.

Finn took a seat next to me on the bed as I sat up properly and moved to the edge, adorning one of those fake convincing smiles that had worked so many times before.

“A night of studying then? We won’t be back too late I promise, you can pick the film tonight. I dread another of Rheas slasher films aye. We will be up all night watching the door” Finn said with a gentle nudge to my shoulder. I just nodded, unsure of how to respond. It was strange, I could hide myself in the love and laughter I felt for them all, the never ending flirting and sexual frustration that would build when we were in a room. But a reminder of the real world, of the real life we were living was enough to shatter my dreams back to reality. Every day was blending into one, the repetitive endeavors were tearing my soul apart. Tears began to fill the corners of my eyes as I was quick to stand and rub them away taking a sharp breath. I knew inside I was breaking, I was like a ticking time bomb and I needed to protect them all. Finn leapt up to his feet spin me around and face him.

“Y/N, listen to me lass, you know we all love you. No matter what, no matter how hard it all gets, whether you sit the exams and pass or fail.” Finn held his hands to my face cupping my cheeks.

Finn had suspected something was wrong for a while, he and Rhea had sat down with me before to talk. They knew about my past, the scars I had whilst silver and faded now were a window into a past life I had battled for so long to break free from, always terrified it would find me again. I was like a rabbit in headlights when it all got to much, I would freeze in fear of my mind running away with my sanity. Hence the nickname Bunny.

“I don’t know what is wrong with me..” My voice was fragile, broken.

Finn held me in a close hug, his warm embrace relighting the fire inside my chest, a willing to keep going forward. The serenity was quickly broken by a car horn beeping outside followed by a text alert on Finns phone.

BRAT NO.2 -

“Oi! Save some of her for the rest of us Finn >_< get your ass down here! We’re gonna be late!”

Finn shook his head, “That boy tests my patience to its limit at the best of times, ive a good mind to put him over my knee’

I laughed wiping my eyes with my sleeves “Only if you let me watch”

He smiled and held me close, “I can stay, if that’s what you need?”

I shook my head and released him from the hug, “No. its okay, you go kick ass! I’m gonna jump in the shower and try to get in a quick nap before I crack on with those books, can’t defer the exam forever!”

“We will be back before you know it” Finn said softly

“Less than a minute?” I half smiled

“Less than a minute” He returned the all too familiar phrase. Finn kissed my forehead before getting his bag of the chair and reaching into his pocket to get his phone that had started to ring. He answered the call whilst slumping his bag over his shoulder and nodding his head goodbye to me before heading out the door.

“Dominik, I am telling you now! I swear to god if you don’t…” Finns voice faded out as he continued down the hotel hallway, the door closing behind him.

Taking a deep breath I shook off the heavy emotional cloak weighing me down and headed for the shower.

4 HOURS LATER -

Looking around the rather large hotel room we had booked for the night I came to wonder; anyone would have thought we would have been used to this horrendous decor by now. No matter where we stayed every room felt much the same, whether it was the dismal wall art, low pressure shower heads or dull painted walls that felt like they were closing in. Though I knew the others were not fazed by it, they very rarely spent a lot of time in these rooms, aside from catching up on missed sleep or dancing the devils tango with any sparing energy the four of them would be in the gym or at the WWE training centers for live shows or TV.

Sitting here I couldn’t steady my mind, I felt lost, lonely, empty even. It wasn’t their fault, they showered me in affection, I could want for nothing but more time with them. Yet it wasn’t that either, no amount of time in the arms of Rhea could fix the damage, she was the only woman I could love with the entirety of my heart, but as incredible as she was, even Rhea Bloody Ripley couldn’t fight off the demons inside me.

The deeper I looked the more the world felt wrong. It all felt alien, uneasy, I wondered if it was just me, was I the problem? I checked the time, just after 10pm, they would be back soon enough, why did that bring about such panic, an anxiety drowning my heart, my breathe hitched and I felt it. You just know don’t you, it could have been years, weeks, days, hours or minutes that you had been fighting the voices in your head, the devil on your shoulder, but I was so lost in it all I just wanted to be alone.

Slipping off the bed I pulled on my socks and trainers and headed for the door. Pausing in the doorway I felt my heart sink a little, maybe this was it, maybe I wasn’t what I had promised I would be.

A single tear fell down my cheek as I closed the hotel room door behind me, leaving my phone and keys on the nightstand. I needed to break free, only time would tell how long for, but I needed to feel. I needed to escape the War inside my head and the only way I knew how to do that, was to run.

1 HOUR LATER -

Rhea and Dom walked through the carpark with his arm wrapped around her waist as they headed towards the rental car. It had been a hard night for them and all they wanted was to climb into bed with their girl and sleep. Damien followed just behind the both of them carrying the groups bags. Finn bringing up the rear of the group was locked into his phone, his face filled with concern for their girl who hadn’t responded to a single text all evening. They had received a message from the WWE management team that they could leave early to limit fan interaction ahead of SummerSlam.

Climbing into the rental car Dom, Rhea and Damien waited for Finn.

“Maybe she fell asleep studying?” Dom asked as Finn sat in the back passenger seat.

Rhea had her phone up to her ear listening to a never ending ringing on the other end, Voicemail again. “Bunny? please call me back.” She ended the call and looked up to Damien in the drives seat.

“Priest, Floor it!”

--------

Reaching the hotel all four of them raced from the car inside, adrenaline fed through them as they reached the hotel room.

Hands shaking Rhea swiped the card multiple times before holding it still long enough to enter. The realization. The Silence. It was deafening.

Damien rushed in to check the bathroom as Finn scrambled around the room with Dom, looking for something, for someone they knew wasn’t there. Rhea stood frozen in the doorway, in silence, her eyes locked in.

“Rhea?” Dom hastily rushed over, hand on her shoulder as he turned to her eye line. There it was, on the bedside table.

Finn edged his way over to the bedside as Damien came back into the room. Hands shaking nervously Finn reached down and picked up Y/N phone and hotel keycard.

They all shared a look between each other, a look of fear and confusion. What were they meant to do now? Where did Y/N go?

“I shouldn’t of left her…” Finn held the phone tightly pacing the same two steps over. “I could see it, I saw it, I shouldn’t of left her…” Finn repeated again.

“Finn?” Dom hesitantly questioned his actions.

Rheas demeanor quickly turned and she slammed her hand against the doorframe and rushed out followed by Finn and Damien desperate to find their girl.

“Dom stay here! In case she comes back!” Damien yelled, he paused in the hall before rushing back to the room and holding Dominick’s face in his hands. “We will find her, I promise, we will all be back before you know it” Damien kissed his forehead before turning and running back out the door.

Dom was frozen on the spot, he couldn’t move, he looked around the room at abandoned study books, half unpacked suitcases and clothing discarded on the floor. He felt smaller than ever before, his heartbeat felt cold, his chest filled with butterflies and his hands cold to touch.

Walking over to the window that stood from floor to ceiling he held his hand to his chest tearing up at the rain lashing down outside . “Less than a minute?”

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kiwriteswords · 25 days ago

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The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you

Part IV in the Wicked Game Universe (Can be read on its own, though!)

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: Here is another part of the Flirty!Female reader storyline I shared last week. This story can be read solo or as a companion piece in this universe! I am beginning to plan future installments of this story and some possible 'flashback' one-shots--all of which could be read individually.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 10.8k

Tags/Warnings: mention of past abusive relationship, fear of commitment, unresolved trauma, mention of SA, angst, romantic tension, mild violence, emotional vulnerability, workplace relationships, slight language, hurt/comfort, power dynamics, manipulation by an ex, sexual tension, sexual themes. Part of a series but can be read as a standalone.

Sypnosis: After years away from the BAU, you’ve returned, leaving behind a prestigious career as a professor and best-selling author. Once part of the original team, your reunion with Hotch has reignited long-simmering tension. Now, as your relationship begins to unfold, you’re not only confronting your fear of commitment but also the unresolved troubles from your past—including a case tied to your former life as a professor. With emotions and past wounds resurfacing, you’ll have to navigate the dangers of the job and the vulnerability of opening yourself up to Hotch without letting it all unravel.

Aaron Hotchner stood in front of his closet, pulling on a casual jacket, readying himself to head out and pick Jack up from his Aunt Jess’s house. It was a quiet Sunday evening, and the dim light in his apartment cast a warm, relaxed glow. You sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the fabric of your shirt, your mind wandering as you watched him quietly.

“You’re welcome to come with me,” Hotch said, his tone calm but warm, as he looked over at you. “Or you can hang back if you’d rather stay here.”

You forced a small smile, trying to play it cool, but your mind was racing. "Oh, I think I’ll just head home,” you replied, a touch too quickly. “You know… laundry."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. He turned toward you fully, his steady gaze softening as he studied your face. “Laundry?” he asked, the slightest hint of amusement in his tone. “On a Sunday night?”

You let out a nervous laugh, shifting on the bed as you felt the tension between the two of you grow. He could read you like a book—he always could. You’d gotten to know Jack a few times, and honestly, you cared about the kid. He was sweet, and you loved seeing how much Hotch lit up when he talked about him. But now that you and Hotch were officially dating, the reality of being a part of his life—not just Hotch’s, but Jack’s, too—was starting to feel a little overwhelming.

“I just... I don’t want to intrude or anything. It’s your time with Jack, and I don’t want to, you know, mess up the dad-son thing,” you said, waving your hand dismissively, trying to deflect the weight of your own words.

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could tell he wasn’t going to let this slide. “Y/N, you’ve spent time with Jack before. You know you’re not intruding,” he said, his voice gentle but probing. “And Jack’s shared with me that he likes you there,” He stepped closer, leaning against the dresser, his arms folding across his chest. “What’s really going on?”

Your heart rate picked up, and you could feel your defenses rising. You hated how well he could see through you.

“Nothing’s going on,” you lied, forcing a smirk onto your face. “I just don’t want Jack to think I’m moving in or anything. Who knows, maybe he doesn’t want to share his dad’s time with someone who’s, you know, kind of irresistible.”

You tossed the joke out there, hoping the humor would deflect the conversation away from the nagging feeling in your chest. But Hotch didn’t laugh. Instead, his gaze remained steady on you, seeing past the joke, past the deflection. He could always see right through the armor you put up, and it unnerved you.

He didn’t speak for a long moment, just watching you, letting the silence hang between you two. Finally, his voice broke through the tension, low and measured.

“Y/N... do you have issues with commitment?”

The question landed like a punch to the gut, though his tone was gentle, almost too gentle. You blinked, your breath catching slightly as you stared at him, trying to figure out what to say. Your instinct was to deny it, to brush it off like you always did.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head a little too eagerly. “I’m fully committed to you, Aaron. I mean... I just... I don’t have commitment issues. It’s just that... I have to go...you know…”

You trailed off, the lame excuse you were trying to come up with faltering in your mind. You couldn’t think of a single thing that didn’t sound ridiculous. You were backing yourself into a corner, and you both knew it.

Hotch’s expression softened even more, his eyes searching yours as he stepped closer. He didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from you. He never would. But the way he looked at you—the way he could see your fear even when you tried to hide it—made it impossible to lie to him.

“You don’t have to make excuses,” he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not pushing Jack or any of the family stuff onto you. I want you to be comfortable, and I’ll never force you into anything you’re not ready for. But... I need to know what you’re feeling. If there’s something you’re scared of, you can tell me.”

Your throat tightened as his words hit home. The truth was, you were terrified. You were beginning to love him, and the idea of being part of his life—really part of it, including Jack—was more serious than you ever allowed yourself to get before. But you couldn’t admit that to him. You couldn’t admit how scared you were of the possibility of getting hurt. So instead, you plastered on another forced smile, trying to hide the vulnerability bubbling up inside you.

“I’m not scared, Aaron,” you lied again, your voice betraying the uncertainty you were trying so hard to cover. “I’m fine. Really.”

But even as you said it, you knew he didn’t believe you.

Hotch stood quietly in the doorway, watching as you slipped on your coat, preparing to leave his apartment. He could tell by the way you moved—hurried, slightly fidgety—that something was bothering you. He knew you weren’t being entirely honest with him, but he didn’t press further. Not yet, anyway.

As you reached for the door, you glanced back at him with a tight smile, your voice softer now. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

Hotch nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. “Okay,” he said simply, though his mind was far from settled. “Drive safe.”

You gave him a quick wave and hurried out the door, closing it behind you with a soft click. Hotch remained standing in the same spot, staring at the door long after you were gone, the familiar quiet of his apartment settling back around him. His mind, however, was far from quiet.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the wall, his thoughts churning. He and you had agreed long ago not to profile each other, a mutual understanding that was meant to keep things simple. But right now, he couldn’t help himself. The profiler in him was already working, analyzing every piece of the puzzle that you had left behind.

He knew you cared about him. He also knew you were great with Jack—there was no denying the way Jack’s eyes lit up when you were around. You were patient with him, playful, and you always found a way to make him laugh even after a tough day. Hotch wouldn’t be with someone if Jack didn’t like them, and he definitely wouldn’t have let you into his life if he didn’t think you were good for both of them.

So why were you pulling away now? What was it about commitment that made you so uncomfortable?

Hotch crossed the room slowly, his footsteps soft against the floor as his mind pieced together the details. It wasn’t just about Jack—he could see that much. This was about more than his son. The way you deflected, the way you tried to cover your unease with humor... it wasn’t about being around Jack. No, this was deeper than that.

He thought back to the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes when you told him you were fine, the way your laughter was a little too quick, too forced. You were scared, that much was clear, but scared of what? Being in a relationship with him? Or was it the idea of permanence—of letting someone in?

Hotch pressed his lips together, considering. He wasn’t blind to your past. You’d mentioned bits and pieces before, always in passing, never lingering too long on the details. He hadn’t pushed you for more, respecting your boundaries, but now... now he couldn’t help but wonder if those past experiences were what was making you retreat.

Commitment. The word echoed in his mind. It wasn’t just a fear of being with him—it was a fear of what being with him meant. A future. A life. A family.

Hotch’s gaze drifted to the jacket you had left slung over the back of the chair, a small reminder that you weren’t really gone, not in the way his mind feared you might be. You were still here, still in his life. But the hesitation you had around the idea of permanence, of family... it worried him. Because for Hotch, being with someone wasn’t just casual. He was past that. And he knew, deep down, he wouldn’t be with you if he didn’t see something lasting.

He let out another slow breath, his mind running through possible explanations for your discomfort. Was it something from your past? A relationship gone wrong? A family situation that left scars you didn’t want to reopen? He had seen enough in his career to know that fear of commitment usually had roots in something much deeper, something more personal.

And as much as he wanted to respect your boundaries, Hotch knew that if this relationship was going to last, you couldn’t keep running. He wouldn’t push you—not now—but he also couldn’t let this go unresolved.

He made his way to the couch, sitting down and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. He wasn’t the type to force things. He’d always been patient, methodical, both in his work and in his personal life. But with you... he felt that familiar pull. He couldn’t help but want to protect you, even from yourself. He wanted to know what you were afraid of, and more than that, he wanted to help you face it.

Because the truth was, Hotch wasn’t afraid of commitment. Not with you. He wouldn’t have let you into his life—or Jack’s—if he wasn’t serious about the future. And he needed to know if you were ready to face that with him or if you were going to keep running.

Hotch’s eyes flicked back to the door, his mind still working, still piecing together the small details you had left behind. He could wait. He could give you time. But he also knew that at some point, the truth would have to come out.

He wasn’t going to let you slip away that easily.

The next few days passed like any other—business as usual at the BAU. Cases came and went, paperwork piled up, and the team fell into their familiar rhythm. But you? You were doing your best to stay out of Hotch’s orbit. It wasn’t overt—just little things. Sitting a little further away during briefings, excusing yourself before the team headed to lunch together, or leaving the bullpen just a moment earlier than usual to avoid being caught in conversation.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to see him. You did. But that was the problem.

Every time you thought about him—about Hotch, and about Jack—your chest tightened with a mixture of affection and dread. The feelings were overwhelming, and you couldn’t shake the gnawing fear that loving them, both of them, would end in disaster. Because that’s how it always happened, didn’t it? The moment you admitted to yourself that you loved someone, it all fell apart.

You weren’t blind to your own patterns. You’d seen it happen over and over again—every time you let someone in, every time you allowed yourself to love, something went wrong. Past relationships had crumbled the moment you showed vulnerability, the moment you trusted someone enough to share your insecurities. It was as if, once they saw the cracks, they lost interest. They grew tired of you, sick of the very parts of you that you couldn’t hide forever.

And Hotch? He was different. He felt different. You’d built walls for so long, kept people at arm’s length for years because it was easier to be alone than to deal with the heartache of being left behind. But now, with Hotch, the stakes were so much higher. This wasn’t just some casual fling. He had Jack, too, and you’d started to care about him—really care about him. Losing them both would be unbearable.

What if Hotch got sick of you? What if the moment you opened up, told him about the fears that kept you up at night, he realized you weren’t what he wanted? What if he saw all the things that made you unlovable? That thought was like a knife to your chest, and every time it crossed your mind, you could feel yourself retreating, brick by brick, back behind the walls you’d spent so long building.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Hotch. You did, more than anyone. But that didn’t erase the fear—the fear that, if you gave him the chance, he might use your insecurities against you one day. You’d seen it before, how the people closest to you could turn your vulnerabilities into weapons when things got tough. Past lovers, boyfriends... even family had done it. Once they knew where your weak spots were, they treated you differently, and eventually, they all left.

You couldn’t afford to let that happen with Hotch. Losing him... losing Jack? It would break you.

So, you avoided him. Not in any dramatic way, but enough to keep yourself at a distance. Enough to protect yourself. You told yourself it was just temporary, that you needed space to figure things out. But the truth was, you were terrified—terrified of what would happen if you admitted to yourself that you loved him. Because you did. You could feel it, and that terrified you more than anything.

Because loneliness? Loneliness was something you knew how to handle. It was easier to bear than heartache.

You stood in the copy room, staring at the machine as it hummed softly. The bright fluorescent lights overhead felt harsh, too revealing, but you needed the escape. You’d volunteered to make copies—something you never did. It was usually Penelope or JJ’s domain, not yours, but anything was better than sitting at your desk, where you might have to face Hotch.

The door creaked open, and you jumped, nearly knocking over the stack of papers in your hands. You turned around quickly, and there he was—Hotch, leaning in the doorway, his eyes fixed on you with that familiar, steady gaze.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “you’ve been avoiding me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a second, you were sure he could hear it. You scrambled to regain your composure, putting on your usual front as quickly as you could. “Avoiding you?” you echoed, forcing a smile. “No way. I’ve just been... really busy. You know, super swamped with all this copying.”

You gestured awkwardly to the copy machine, as if that would somehow make your excuse more believable. You immediately regretted it. Hotch’s expression didn’t change, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that told you he wasn’t buying a word of it.

He stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. “You don’t make copies,” he said simply, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt the walls closing in, but instead of admitting anything, you did what you always did when things got too uncomfortable—you deflected. “Well, you know me,” you said, tilting your head with a smirk, “I like to shake things up. Keep things... interesting.”

You punctuated the sentence with a playful wink, hoping the flirtation would steer the conversation away from the real issue. But this time, Hotch wasn’t having it. His eyes narrowed slightly, and though you could see the faintest trace of amusement in his gaze, it wasn’t enough to let you off the hook.

He took another step closer, his voice lowering just a touch. “You’re deflecting,” he said softly, his tone a mix of concern and patience. “I’m not going to let you avoid this, Y/N. Not this time.”

Your heart raced as you realized there was no escaping the conversation. You could feel the tension between the two of you, but it wasn’t the usual kind—the playful, teasing tension that you thrived on. This was heavier, more serious. And the way he looked at you, so intent, so knowing, made it impossible to keep pretending.

“I’m not... avoiding anything,” you lied again, though the words felt hollow even as you said them. “I’ve just been busy, that’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

But Hotch didn’t budge. His eyes were locked on yours, and you could tell he was waiting—waiting for you to drop the act. He had always been patient with you, always let you use humor and flirtation to dodge the hard conversations, but this time... this time he wasn’t going to let you.

He stepped even closer, his presence grounding you in the small room, and his voice softened in a way that made your defenses start to crumble. “Y/N,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to hide from me. Whatever it is... you can talk to me.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. You felt the weight of his words settling in the pit of your stomach, the tenderness in his voice catching you off guard. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t pushing. He was just... asking you to let him in.

But letting him in meant tearing down the walls you had built for years. It meant showing him the parts of yourself that you had spent so long hiding—the parts that had driven other people away. And that scared you more than anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Hotch just watched you, quiet and unflinching. He wasn’t going to let you use your usual tactics this time. You could see it in the way he looked at you, in the way his jaw tightened slightly as if he were holding back his own frustration. He wasn’t asking you to be perfect. He wasn’t asking you to have all the answers. He was just asking you to be real with him.

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, and for a moment, all you could hear was the soft hum of the copy machine in the background. You felt your resolve weakening, the familiar comfort of your usual bravado slipping away as you stood there, face to face with him.

“Why are you really avoiding me?” Hotch asked again, his voice so soft now that it felt like a whisper. “What are you afraid of?”

Your throat tightened, and for a moment, you thought about lying again. But the way he looked at you—the way he had always seen through you—made it impossible.

You swallowed hard, your gaze falling to the floor as you tried to find the words. “I’m not afraid,” you started, though the words felt fragile. “It’s just... I’m not... good at this. I don’t know how to be...” You trailed off, your mind racing, trying to figure out how to say the things that had been gnawing at you for days.

“I’m not... good at relationships, okay?” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Every time I’ve let someone in, it’s... it’s backfired. I’m scared that if I show you who I really am, you’ll... you’ll get tired of me. Or worse, you’ll see all the things that make me unlovable and... leave.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and as soon as they did, you felt exposed, raw. Vulnerable in a way that you hadn’t allowed yourself to be in years.

Hotch’s expression softened even more, his gaze filled with understanding rather than judgment. He stepped closer, his voice steady and reassuring. “Y/N, that’s not going to happen,” he said gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Before Hotch could say anything more, the door to the copy room swung open, and JJ appeared, her expression urgent but apologetic.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” JJ began, glancing between the two of you, clearly sensing the tension. “But we’ve got an urgent case. We need to head to the briefing room now.”

Hotch straightened up immediately, the shift in his demeanor instant. He was back in work mode, but before he turned to leave, he glanced at you, his eyes softening for just a moment. “We’ll finish this conversation later,” he said, his voice low but firm, leaving no room for argument.

You, of course, couldn’t help yourself. You leaned back against the copy machine, crossing your arms with a defiant smirk. “I don’t know, Hotchner. I might be busy making copies.”

The corner of his mouth twitched as he fought back a smile, his gaze flicking back to you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Knock it off,” he said lightly, his tone still professional but with that familiar warmth. “Don’t be a brat.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk widening just a little. “No promises.”

Hotch shook his head, clearly not fazed by your antics, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he turned to follow JJ, already shifting back into his role as Unit Chief. You followed behind, the moment lingering in the back of your mind, knowing that this conversation was far from over.

The air in the briefing room felt thicker as the case unfolded. JJ was going through the details, but your mind was already reeling from what you saw. The university. The professor. The past you thought you’d left behind.

The team listened intently, no one yet aware of just how personal this case was about to become for you. You had worked with these people before, years ago, when you were part of the original team with Rossi, Gideon, and Hotch. They knew your reputation—how you’d left the BAU to teach at an Ivy League university, write books, and shape future generations of agents. But they didn’t know the deeper connections, the ones that were resurfacing now.

JJ clicked to the next slide, and that was when you felt the pit in your stomach form. The suspect’s possible protector: a law professor who had once been the person you thought you’d build a life with. The one you left behind when your priorities shifted.

As the details about the professor emerged, Morgan looked over at you, furrowing his brow. “Wait, didn’t you teach at this university for a while?”

You nodded, keeping your voice steady, though your pulse was anything but. “Yeah. I taught there for a few years.”

Prentiss leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued. “And this professor... you know him?”

You hesitated for just a moment, the weight of your words settling in your throat. You hadn’t expected to be forced into revealing this now, in front of the entire team, but there was no avoiding it. You glanced at Hotch, and for a brief second, you saw the flicker of concern in his eyes. But it was Rossi’s calm presence that grounded you, reminding you why you had come back to the BAU in the first place. Because he had called you. Because he had known you belonged here.

With a small sigh, you gave a tight nod. “He’s my ex. I was with him for a while when I was teaching there. We broke up years ago.”

The room went quiet for a beat, the team exchanging glances as they processed the information. Nobody had known. You had always kept that part of your life separate from your professional world, but now it was colliding head-on.

“I’m not surprised he’s involved in this,” you continued, keeping your tone as even as possible. “He’s always been good at covering things up, especially when it comes to protecting his students. I’m guessing he’s helping the suspect in more ways than we realize.”

Hotch’s gaze didn’t leave you. While the rest of the team focused on the new revelation, he was watching your demeanor, analyzing the subtle shifts in your expression. He could see you trying to keep it together, but he knew you too well. He knew there was more to this than you were letting on.

The timing of it all couldn’t have been worse. Just when he had been starting to understand why you’d been so distant, now this—an ex, the kind of connection that could explain more than just your avoidance in recent days. Hotch’s mind was already working through the implications, but now wasn’t the time to push. Not yet.

“We’ll split into teams,” Hotch said, taking control of the situation and pulling the focus back to the case. “Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, and I will meet with campus security. JJ, Reid, and Y/N—you’ll talk to the students and see if anyone’s noticed anything suspicious about the professor or the suspect.”

You nodded, trying to push down the anxiety creeping up inside you. You could feel Hotch’s eyes on you, still watching, still waiting for the conversation you both knew was inevitable. But for now, you needed to focus on the case. You couldn’t afford to let your past get in the way of the job.

But you knew, deep down, this wasn’t over.

The steady hum of the jet’s engines filled the cabin as you sat in your usual seat, staring out the window at the clouds passing by below. The rest of the team was engaged in quiet conversation or reviewing the case files, but you had remained silent, your mind elsewhere. Too calm. Too collected. You knew it. But this was the only way you could handle the situation—by shutting it all down, pushing it far enough away that it didn’t touch you.

Hotch sat across from you, his eyes flicking between his file and you. He was subtle about it, but you could feel his gaze. After everything that had come out in the briefing room, you knew he’d want to check in, and you’d been dreading it.

He cleared his throat softly, leaning forward just enough to speak quietly, so the others wouldn’t hear. “How are you holding up?”

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. “I’m fine,” you said, your voice steady and flat. Too steady. “This is just another case.”

Hotch didn’t miss a beat. “You seem... detached.”

You felt your jaw tighten as you flipped through the file in your lap, though you weren’t actually reading it. “I’m not detached,” you replied, too cold. “I’m focused.”

He was silent for a moment, then tried a different approach. “This professor—your ex—was there anything about him that we should know? Anything that could help us?”

You froze for just a moment before you snapped the file shut and finally looked at him, your eyes hard and unyielding.

“He was an asshole, Aaron. That’s all you need to know.” The words came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t stop there. “He was manipulative, controlling, and he didn’t care about anyone but himself. And I was an idiot for staying with him as long as I did.”

Hotch blinked, clearly taken aback, but not by your anger—by the venom in your voice, the way you talked about yourself. He didn’t respond right away, his mind already processing how someone like that could have hurt you. Why you would have tolerated it for so long. But before he could say anything more, you turned away, ending the conversation with a wall of silence.

The rest of the flight passed in a blur of silence and tense focus. Hotch didn’t push further, but you could feel the weight of his thoughts as he processed what you’d said.

When the jet finally landed, and the team moved into action, there was little time for personal conversations. The team split up into teams, like Hotch requested, but there was little to no developments. You spent the day…tense--radiating off of you.

It was Morgan who broke the tension once things had settled into the routine.

“Hey,” he said with a grin, sidling up next to you as you tossed through the files. “I’m surprised you haven’t given Hotch much hell today. Must be hitting close to home, huh?”

You let out a humorless laugh, nodding slightly. “Yeah. Too close.”

Morgan’s grin faded, and he gave you a knowing look. “You okay?”

You shrugged, shaking your head a little. “Honestly? I don’t know how to express that to him—how to say anything to him.”

Morgan leaned back, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Hotch? The cold drill sergeant?” He raised his eyebrows. “Come on. You’re his one exception. To most things, actually.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” Morgan said, his tone more genuine now. “Look, we trust each other with our lives every day in the field. You’ve got to start trusting him with more than just that. The guy trusts you. I mean, really trusts you—his life, his messy past, all of it. Maybe you should think about trusting him with yours.”

You bit your lip, considering his words, knowing there was more truth in them than you wanted to admit. You hadn’t let Hotch in—really let him in—but not because you didn’t want to. You just didn’t know how. And Morgan was right, it could not be easy for Hotch to let someone in after Haley. Bringing you around Jack, into his life that he once lived with someone who he thought would be there forever? Could not be something easy, yet he was allowing you in anyways.

Before you could respond, Hotch’s voice broke through the moment. “We’ve got a lead on the professor,” he said, his tone all business as he approached. “I want you to stay back.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but quickly stopped yourself. Instead, you quipped, “Come on, Hotch. Don’t tell me you don’t want me to have all the fun.”

Morgan chuckled and shook his head, walking off with a muttered, “Good luck, man.”

But Hotch didn’t laugh. His eyes narrowed slightly, not unkindly, but with that familiar look that told you he wasn’t buying your deflection.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he said quietly. “When we get him into custody, I want you to talk to him. You know him, and that personal connection might be an advantage we can use.”

You hesitated for just a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

Hotch didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on you, his voice lowering just enough so that only you could hear him. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? If you’re not comfortable—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted softly, the seriousness of your voice surprising even yourself. “None of this is comfortable, Hotch. But I’m learning. Learning how to... express that. Trying. And hoping I can share more. Soon.”

Hotch studied your face for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but there was something softer in his eyes. Something that told you he wasn’t just your boss right now—he was someone who cared about you. Someone who wanted you to be okay.

“Okay,” he said, his voice just as soft. “But if you need to step back at any point, I need you to tell me.”

You gave him a small, almost sad smile. “I will.”

He nodded once, his professional mask slipping back into place as he turned to the rest of the team. But you knew this conversation wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

The interrogation room was colder than you remembered, the sterile fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow over the table. You stood by the one-way mirror for a moment, watching as your ex—the professor—sat with his hands clasped in front of him, his expression unreadable. It had been years since you’d seen him, and though you had prepared yourself for this moment, it still felt like a punch to the gut.

Hotch stood beside you, silent but present, his gaze fixed on the man in the room. His anger was palpable—another body had been found on campus, escalating the urgency of the case. You could feel his tension in the air, but as always, he kept it under control. For now.

“You don’t have to do this,” Hotch said quietly, his voice low but steady. “If you’re not ready—”

You cut him off, straightening your shoulders and pulling your gaze away from the glass. “I’ve got this,” you said firmly, though your heart raced in your chest. “I need to do this.”

Hotch’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. He gave a small nod, but before you walked through the door, he spoke again, his voice softer. “If he crosses a line, I’ll be right there.”

You met his gaze, grateful for his support, but you forced a confident smile onto your face. “Don’t worry, I can handle him.”

With that, you stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind you. The professor looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and you could see the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, casually, like he wasn’t sitting in an interrogation room, suspected of covering up for a student who had committed unspeakable crimes.

The interrogation room felt suffocating, the air thick with tension. He sat casually in his chair as if this were a simple chat. His smug demeanor, the arrogance in his eyes—it all brought back memories you’d tried to bury. But you weren’t the same person who had tolerated him back then. You had changed.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice oozing with that familiar arrogance. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

You remained standing, refusing to sit across from him. “I wasn’t expecting to be here either,” you said coldly, your voice sharp. “But here we are.”

He leaned back in his chair, arrogance radiating from him as he crossed his arms. “You always had a way of getting yourself involved in things that didn’t concern you,” he sneered.

You didn’t flinch. “This concerns me,” you said sharply. “You’re covering up for a student who’s responsible for these crimes. Just like you’ve done before.”

He chuckled, low and condescending. “You’re still so self-righteous. Always thinking you could save everyone. But we both know how that turned out, don’t we?”

Your jaw clenched, but you refused to let him get to you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned back again, his smirk returning as his eyes swept over you. “You were always so eager to please. You put up with so much... for so long. I was surprised, actually. Surprised you stayed with me as long as you did. Guess you just couldn’t help yourself.”

Your jaw tightened, the memories of the past pushing forward, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You weren’t going to let him get to you, not this time. “I stayed with you because I didn’t know any better,” you said, your voice low and sharp. “But I see you now. You covered up a sexual assault on campus. A student you treated like one of your ‘bros.’”

For the first time, his expression flickered. You pressed on, your voice cutting through the tension. “I’m not surprised you’re involved in this. You always looked out for the worst kinds of people, because you’re just like them. Terrible. You might not have laid a hand on anyone, but you enabled them. And I’m done letting you hide behind that smug façade.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, the cocky façade slipped. He straightened up, his expression hardening. “I protected my students, just like I always did. If one of them did something stupid, that’s on them.”

“Another body was found,” you snapped, your voice suddenly sharper. “So forgive me if I don’t buy that you’re just an innocent bystander in all this.”

The professor leaned back in his chair, a smug grin curling across his face as he sized you up. His eyes darkened, his tone dripping with disdain. “You know, for someone who spent so much time pretending to be better than everyone else, you weren’t exactly a prize yourself. You were so desperate for approval. Clinging to me, hoping to be part of something important, but you were nothing more than a scared little girl. Pathetic, really.”

Your stomach twisted, his words slicing through the air like a knife. The familiar manipulation was back, but this time it was uglier, more personal, and aimed right at your insecurities. For a moment, you felt that old sense of dread creeping in, but you quickly shoved it down, refusing to let him see how much he affected you.

Before you could respond, the door swung open with a loud bang, and Hotch stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury.

“Enough,” Hotch growled, his voice seething with anger. His usual calm, collected demeanor was gone, replaced by a fury you had rarely seen. He wasn’t just angry—he was livid. His eyes blazed with barely contained rage as he glared at the professor, his fists clenched at his sides.

The professor opened his mouth to say something, but Hotch cut him off, his voice rising. “We just found another body on campus,” he snapped, his tone almost a yell. “So unless you want to be charged as an accessory to murder, you’ll stop playing games and start talking.”

The professor paled, his smug attitude faltering for the first time since you’d entered the room. He glanced between you and Hotch, clearly rattled by the sudden shift in the room’s energy.

“I... I’ll tell you what I know,” he muttered, his bravado slipping.

Hotch didn’t move, his dark gaze fixed on the professor. “If you lie, you’ll regret it,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous, “You have no idea what I’m willing to do to make sure you answer for this.”

The professor nodded quickly, his confidence crumbling under the weight of Hotch’s fury.

Without taking his eyes off the professor, Hotch finally spoke to you, his tone much softer. “You’re done here.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You turned on your heel and left the room, your pulse racing from both the confrontation and the way Hotch had stepped in. Once you were outside, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

The door closed behind you, and Hotch appeared at your side, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. But when he looked at you, there was something else in his eyes—something softer, more protective.

“You didn’t have to do that alone,” he said, his voice low.

You met his gaze, feeling the tension between you ease just a little. “I needed to.”

Hotch studied you for a moment, the weight of everything that had been left unsaid hanging in the air. There was something unspoken between you—something that had been building for a while, and you knew this was far from over.

But for now, you were grateful. Grateful that he had been there, that he’d stepped in when you needed him most. And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to realize that you didn’t have to handle everything on your own anymore.

With the information you’d pulled from the professor, the case came together swiftly. The team tracked down the student responsible for the crimes, arresting him without further incident. It was a victory, but there was a lingering bitterness in the air, especially after the confrontation with your ex.

Back at the precinct, as the local PD prepared to release the professor, you kept your distance, standing with the team as they processed the final details. You had just turned away when you heard his voice behind you.

“Y/N,” he called out, loud enough for everyone to hear, his voice dripping with false charm. “You still look as good as ever.”

You froze, your blood boiling as the comment hit you like a slap. The arrogance in his tone made your skin crawl, and the fact that he had the nerve to say it in front of the entire team? It took everything in you not to react, but you clenched your fists at your sides, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Hotch’s eyes snapped toward the professor, his anger flaring again. That comment—so condescending, so disrespectful—cut deeper than he’d expected it would. It wasn’t just the insult itself, it was the way the professor wielded it, trying to assert power over you even now. Hotch could see the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way you were trying to hide your reaction, but he knew that the words hit a nerve.

As much as Hotch kept his emotions in check, this was different. He felt a flash of protective instinct rise within him. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that—no one did. Especially not you, who had held your own in that interrogation, who had stood firm even when the professor had tried to tear you down. But you hadn’t been forthcoming with your emotions, not with him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was why. If your past with the professor—the manipulation, the control—was part of the reason you kept so much of yourself hidden.

Without missing a beat, he turned to the local PD officers. “Get him out of here,” Hotch ordered, his voice low and dangerous. “Now.”

The officers nodded quickly, rushing to escort the professor out, and as they led him away, Hotch stepped closer to you. He didn’t say anything, but his hand brushed against your back, a subtle gesture of reassurance, letting you know he was there.

Inside, his thoughts were racing. He had seen you deflect before, using humor or bravado to keep people at a distance, but now he could see how much it cost you. You were strong, sharp, confident—even when facing your ex—but there was something deeper beneath that exterior. Something you were still guarding, even now. And Hotch, who prided himself on being able to read people, knew there was so much more you weren’t saying.

Rossi, always quick with a comment, muttered under his breath, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The team burst into quiet laughter, the tension in the room easing just a little. You couldn’t help but smile, though the weight of the professor’s words still lingered.

“I thought Hotch was going to kill the guy,” Morgan chimed in, grinning. “Or at least rip his head off.”

You glanced at Hotch, catching his dry expression. “He’s lucky I didn’t,” Hotch replied, his tone deadpan, though you could see the spark of humor in his eyes.

Feeling the tension lift, you couldn’t resist the chance to tease him. You leaned a little closer to Hotch, your voice low but playful. “Careful, Hotch. I’m starting to think you enjoy playing knight in shining armor.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smile. “Only when it’s necessary.”

The team snickered at the exchange, and you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as Prentiss grinned. “Alright, you two,” she teased, “get a room already.”

Morgan laughed, nudging JJ with his elbow. “Yeah, for real. We don’t need to see all that.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a smile tugging at your lips. “Hey, I don’t make the rules. Just trying to keep things... interesting.”

Hotch shot you a look that was equal parts amusement and exasperation, and for a moment, you could see the corners of his mouth lift in a smirk, but he kept his professional mask intact.

“Interesting isn’t the word I’d use,” Hotch couldn’t help but respond with his own dry sense of humor. “All right,” Hotch said, raising his voice just enough to regain control of the room, though the humor in his eyes remained. “Let’s wrap this up.”

The flight back to Quantico was quiet. The case had been solved, the suspect arrested, and the weight of the entire situation seemed to hang over everyone. Hotch had given you space, knowing that you needed time to process everything that had happened. The rest of the team kept things light, but you remained quiet, lost in your thoughts as you stared out the window of the jet.

Once you landed, the usual bureaucratic routine followed. Paperwork. Debriefs. You went through the motions, wrapping up the final details of the case with the rest of the team. Hotch, always efficient, had finished his reports quickly, but he lingered in his office afterward. He knew you weren’t ready to talk—not yet—and he wasn’t going to push. He had learned over the years that you would come to him when you were ready.

Eventually, the bullpen emptied. The rest of the team had said their goodbyes, eager to head home after the long case. Hotch stayed in his office, reviewing a few last-minute reports when he heard a soft knock on the doorframe. He looked up to see you standing there, peeking into his office.

“Hey,” you said quietly, your tone hesitant. “Can I... go home with you?”

Hotch blinked, surprised by the question, but he kept his expression neutral. “Of course,” he said, his voice softening. “I’d love that.”

He quickly collected his things, and the two of you left the BAU together, walking side by side through the empty hallways. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a heaviness to it. Hotch could feel that you had something on your mind, but he didn’t push. He was happy you were with him, and that was enough for now.

It wasn’t until the two of you reached Hotch’s car, standing alone in the quiet of the parking lot, that you finally spoke. The weight of everything you’d been carrying for so long seemed to press down on you, and you knew this was the moment you needed to say what had been on your mind for days—weeks, even.

You took a deep breath, your voice shaking slightly as you began. “Hotch... Aaron, I know how much you’ve been through. I know how hard it is for you to trust someone after everything. But you still trust me. You’ve been there for me this whole time, and I haven’t been able to show you the same.”

Hotch turned to face you, his eyes soft, patient. He didn’t say anything, just waited, letting you speak at your own pace.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice breaking a little as the words tumbled out. “I’m scared of losing you. Of getting close to Jack and then losing him, too, if something goes wrong between us. I’m afraid I’m not good in relationships because I’m so independent—to a fault. I don’t know how to let people in, and I’m scared that I’m overstepping by being in Jack’s life.”

You paused, trying to steady your breath. Hotch remained silent, listening intently, his gaze never leaving yours.

“And I’m terrified,” you continued, “that one day you’ll resent me for it. That I’ll hurt you, or worse... that you’ll see the real me, and you won’t want me anymore. That you’ll find me... unattractive, or ugly, or just... not enough.”

Hotch took a small step closer, his expression softening even more. He could see how hard this was for you—the vulnerability, the fear that had been weighing on you for so long. Slowly, gently, he reached out and placed his hand on your arm, the touch grounding you.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady and sure, “I’ve already seen the real you. And I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You felt your heart tighten, the words hitting you harder than you’d expected. Hotch’s eyes were filled with a tenderness you rarely saw, but it was there—real, honest.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of losing me or Jack,” Hotch continued. “We’re here because we want to be, because we care about you. You’re not overstepping. And as for your fears about relationships... you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”

You swallowed hard, the tears you had been holding back finally starting to well up. But they weren’t tears of sadness—they were tears of relief. For the first time, you felt like you could breathe.

Hotch’s hand slid from your arm to your back, pulling you into a gentle embrace. He didn’t say anything else—he didn’t need to. The quiet comfort of his presence said everything.

You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, and for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

After the emotional exchange outside Hotch’s car, the two of you quietly climbed inside. The drive began in a comfortable silence, but as the minutes passed, Hotch felt compelled to dig a little deeper. He had seen how much your past with the professor had affected you, and though he wasn’t one to push, he also knew that sometimes the right question could help.

He glanced over at you briefly, his voice soft but steady as he broke the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Depends,” you teased, a playful smirk forming on your lips. “If you’re planning to ask about my ex, I’d be careful. If you want to get laid later, you’re walking a pretty thin line right now.”

Hotch’s lips twitched into a subtle smile, surprising you. His wit wasn’t usually at the forefront, but when it was, it always caught you off guard. “Noted,” he replied dryly, his eyes flicking to the road. “But if that’s the line, I guess I’d better make it worth crossing.”

You blinked, surprised by his response, and then burst into laughter. You didn’t expect him to meet you at your level of humor, but there he was, speaking your language, making the tension in your chest loosen just a little more. Somehow, it was easier to talk to him like this—lighthearted, comfortable.

You exhaled, your amusement fading into something more reflective. The joke had disarmed you, and now, the floodgates felt cracked open. You stared out the window for a moment before speaking again, your voice quieter now, more vulnerable.

“I almost let him ruin everything,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “After we broke up, it wasn’t just the relationship that fell apart. It was me. I lost... everything.”

Hotch glanced over at you, his expression softening as he listened intently. He didn’t interrupt, sensing that this was something you needed to say.

“I had a third book deal,” you continued, your voice tightening as the memories surfaced. “It was one of the biggest opportunities of my career. But when everything fell apart between us, I just... I couldn’t handle it. I had to take a leave of absence from teaching. I lost all sense of who I was, of what I’d worked for. I almost lost everything I’d built for myself.” You paused, swallowing hard. “I let him... I let him make me feel like I wasn’t enough. Like I couldn’t do it on my own. And the worst part is, I believed him.”

Hotch tensed. “You didn’t lose everything,” he said quietly, glancing at you again. “You’re here. You came back. You built yourself up again.”

You nodded, though the heaviness of the memories still lingered. “Yeah, I did. But it took a long time to get back to myself. I almost let him take everything from me, and the idea of... of trusting someone again after all that, it’s terrifying.”

Hotch was silent for a moment, letting your words hang in the air. He knew exactly what it was like to be broken by someone you trusted, to rebuild from the ruins of a relationship. And he understood why you were scared.

“You’re not alone in this,” he said gently. “And you don’t have to do it on your own anymore. You’ve been through hell, but you came out stronger. And whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I feel kind of stupid, you know,” you admitted, your tone laced with self-deprecation. “Here I am, whining about my stupid ex and my lost book deal when you... you’ve been through so much more. Losing Haley, raising Jack... I’m over here complaining about my ‘trivial’ issues, and you’ve survived all that.”

Hotch’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, not out of frustration with you, but with the idea that you would belittle your own pain in comparison to his. He had always hated the notion that suffering was something that could be compared or ranked. The losses and hardships you had faced weren’t trivial, and he could see how much they had affected you. He wanted to tell you that pain was pain, no matter the source. That what you went through mattered.

He glanced at you, catching the guilt in your expression, and a small, dry smile tugged at his lips. “I wouldn’t call them trivial,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “We’ve all been through our own versions of hell.”

In truth, Hotch had never really talked about what happened with Haley in a way that felt... open. Most people treaded lightly around the topic, and he let them because revisiting that part of his life was often too painful. But at this moment, sitting next to you, he realized that maybe you were more similar than he had ever allowed himself to consider. You had both been through losses that had shaped you, and you both carried the weight of those losses in your own ways.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Yeah. Quite the pair, aren’t we?”

Hotch’s smile deepened, a rare lightness settling over him. “We are,” he agreed, glancing at you before turning his attention back to the road. “Quite the pair.”

As he drove, Hotch couldn’t help but feel the subtle shift in the air between the two of you. For so long, he had thought of himself as the one with the heavy burdens—the one whose past dictated his present.

But hearing you open up about your fears, about the way your past had nearly destroyed you, made him realize just how much you had in common. He wasn’t the only one who had been broken and rebuilt.

And it wasn’t about comparing whose pain was worse; it was about understanding that, in each other, you had found someone who could shoulder the weight together.

He hadn’t expected to feel this kind of connection, not after everything he had been through. But now, sitting beside you, he felt a sense of hope, the possibility that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

After the conversation outside the car, the drive to pick up Jack was filled with a sense of quiet contentment. There was still a lot to process, but for now, things felt... lighter between the two of you. When you arrived at Jack’s aunt’s house, Hotch stepped out of the car first, greeting Jess before Jack came bounding out of the house, his energy immediately filling the air.

“Dad!” Jack’s voice was filled with excitement, but when he spotted you stepping out of the car behind Hotch, his smile widened even more. “Hey, Y/N!”

You smiled back, watching as Hotch crouched down to catch Jack in a hug before turning toward you. “Hey, buddy,” you said, your tone softening as you knelt to greet him. “How’s it going?”

Jack launched into a story about what he had been up to, and you listened intently, smiling at his enthusiasm. Hotch watched the interaction from a short distance, his heart swelling as he saw how natural you were with Jack. It hadn’t taken long for Jack to warm up to you, and now, seeing the two of you together, he felt a deep sense of contentment. This was something he hadn’t allowed himself to hope for in a long time—someone who could fit into his life, not just with him, but with Jack too.

The three of you spent the rest of the evening together. Dinner was easy and filled with laughter, and afterward, you and Jack played a game he had excitedly explained to you, while Hotch watched from the sidelines, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He could see how much Jack enjoyed your company, and watching the two of you together, he felt more certain than ever that you belonged in his life.

For your part, you were starting to let yourself enjoy it too. Getting to know Jack, laughing with him, seeing Hotch’s softer side as he interacted with his son—it was more than you had ever expected. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to feel the warmth that came with being part of something bigger than just yourself.

Later that night, after Jack had fallen asleep, you and Hotch found yourselves curled up together in bed, the quiet of the night settling over the house. You had your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in years.

Hotch’s hand gently traced along your arm as he spoke, his voice soft in the stillness. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

You tilted your head slightly to look up at him, your brow furrowing. “For what?”

“For opening up,” he replied, his gaze steady. “Not just to me, but to Jack. He’s... he’s everything to me, you know that. And I wouldn’t bring you into his life if I didn’t think you were someone I saw a long-term future with. Someone I care about. Someone I trust.”

His words settled over you, and though he didn’t say the words outright, you knew what he meant. This was Hotch’s way of saying he loved you, without needing to say it directly. It was in the way he spoke, the way he looked at you, the way he had brought you into the most important part of his life—Jack.

You felt your heart swell, the depth of your feelings for him clear as day. You knew you loved him too. But as the realization hit, so did the familiar fear—the fear that if you said it, if you voiced those words, everything might fall apart. It was an irrational thought, you knew that, but it lingered nonetheless. You didn’t want to lose him or Jack. And sometimes, it felt like admitting how much you cared might make it all disappear.

You shifted slightly, your voice soft but sincere as you responded. “I’m... I’m glad you trust me with that. With him. It means more than I can say.”

Hotch’s hand moved to cup the back of your head, his thumb brushing gently against your hair. “You’re not going to lose us,” he said, his voice firm but filled with warmth. He didn’t need to say more—you both understood what was left unsaid.

You gave him a small smile, resting your head back on his chest. The fear was still there, lingering in the background, but in this moment, wrapped in his arms, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—everything would be okay.

A few days after the case, the BAU was settling into its usual rhythm, and the team was catching up on paperwork. The atmosphere was light, and you glanced over at Hotch, who was going through some files at Reid’s desk.

A familiar mischievous glint sparked in your eyes. It had been a while since you’d stirred the pot, and with the team now fully aware of your relationship with Hotch, there was plenty of fun to be had.

You sauntered over to his desk, leaning against it with an exaggerated sigh. “So, when exactly are you going to give us a break, boss? Or are you planning to work us into the ground?”

Hotch didn’t look up right away, but the corner of his mouth curved slightly. “Are you lobbying for the team or just yourself?” he asked dryly, finally meeting your gaze.

You smirked, tapping your fingers on his desk playfully. “Oh, definitely the team. I’m always thinking of the greater good. Right, guys?”

Morgan chuckled from across the bullpen. “Sure, Y/N. You’re always working so hard... at avoiding paperwork.”

You shot him a mock glare. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know that I’m a very dedicated team member.”

Prentiss chimed in, grinning. “Dedicated to getting Hotch to lighten up, maybe.”

You flashed a flirty smile at Hotch. “Someone’s got to. Imagine how tense you’d all be if I wasn’t here to keep things... engaging.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow at you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Engaging?” he repeated, his tone dripping with skepticism.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice just enough. “Yeah, you know... keeping you on your toes. Wouldn’t want things to get too boring around here, would we?”

Hotch remained unfazed, though you could see the barely concealed smile tugging at his lips. “If by ‘engaging’ you mean ‘relentless,’ then yes. Inappropriate at times? Yes. Mission accomplished.”

Morgan laughed. “Man, Hotch’s got jokes now. You’ve really rubbed off on him.”

Prentiss rolled her eyes, but her grin gave her away. “Honestly, it’s kind of scary how well they balance each other out.”

You crossed your arms, pretending to pout. “Scary? I think you mean inspiring.”

Rossi, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, it’s definitely something.”

You turned back to Hotch, raising an eyebrow. “See? They love me.”

Hotch leaned back, giving you a look that was both challenging and amused. “That’s one word for it.”

You were about to come up with another flirty retort when Morgan, always quick to jump in, added, “Honestly, I’m just impressed Hotch puts up with you.”

Without missing a beat, Hotch deadpanned, “Someone has to.”

The team burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but grin, enjoying the lighthearted teasing. But beneath the banter, there was a warmth between you and Hotch—a mutual understanding that ran deeper than the jokes. Even though he never said it outright, you knew how much he cared for you, how much he valued your presence not just in his life, but in Jack’s, too.

Rossi, sitting across the bullpen, added with a chuckle, “If anyone needs an HR manager around here, it’s definitely for the two of you.”

You laughed, looking back toward Hotch with a wicked grin. “Please, HR wouldn’t stand a chance with me.”

Reid, ever the innocent one, looked between you and Hotch, furrowing his brow. “I mean, technically, you’re not violating any workplace policies... yet.”

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, give it time, Reid. She’ll find a way.”

You threw Morgan a mock glare. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

Before Morgan could respond, JJ, who had been listening from her desk, suddenly chimed in with a sly grin. “Oh, trust me, she will. After overhearing one of your... conversations, I was this close to putting soap in my ears.”

The team burst into laughter, and you glanced at JJ, raising an eyebrow, grinning shamelessly. “What can I say? When I’m passionate about something, it shows.”

Hotch, ever the stoic, kept his expression neutral but gave you a side-eye that conveyed more than words. “I’m sure it does,” he said simply, his tone cool but with that underlying sharpness.

You raised an eyebrow, stepping just a little closer to him, your voice dropping into a teasing tone. “Careful, Hotch. I might have to make it my personal mission to drive you crazy.”

Without missing a beat, Hotch replied, “You’ve been doing that since day one.”

You glanced back at him, leaning in once more, your voice low and teasing. “You know, for someone who pretends to be all serious, you’re pretty good at this.”

Hotch finally allowed a small smile to break through. “Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed softly, brushing your hand lightly against his arm as you straightened up. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Prentiss laughed, sipping her coffee. “HR would probably quit on day one.”

Reid, ever curious, chimed in, “Actually, technically, as long as there’s no misconduct—”

Prentiss interrupted, patting Reid’s shoulder. “Reid, it’s just an expression.”

Morgan, still laughing, added, “Yeah, but with these two, who knows? They might break the system.”

The team exchanged knowing glances, still teasing, but there was no hiding the fact that everyone knew how things had changed between you and Hotch. And as you returned to your paperwork, you caught Hotch’s gaze once more, that subtle connection between the two of you always there—steady, unspoken, but undeniably strong.

Tag List:

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@averyhotchner

@reidfile

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #wicked game #kiwriteswords #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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nihildenial · 19 days ago

Text

Per Aspera Ad Influenza by nihil-denial

Papa Emeritus IV/Dewdrop/Swiss

Warnings: None, For all Ages

Tags: Sickfic, hurt/comfort, sharing a bed, dorks in love

WC: 4,052

It’s not often that human illnesses affect the demonic entities that play in the band Ghost. They are powerful, elemental beings stuffed into carbon-based forms of meat and bones and blood, but even the connections to the Underworld doesn’t save them from the viruses of humanity.

Papa Emeritus IV, a.k.a. Copia to those closest, was only half-infernal and was much more likely to fall ill while Ghost toured the world.

Mountain Ghoul was always ready with herbal teas and salves for whatever caused the singer to feel sick. It bonded Copia and the Earth Ghoul closer together since Mountain was already the heartbeat of the band.

This time, Copia wasn’t the one who needed a caring hand.

“Dewdrop! Stop hogging the bathroom!” Swiss pounds on the tour bus door after the fourth time the Fire Ghoul had slipped out of the living area to lock himself inside the small room. “I gotta piss and if you don’t finish, I’m gonna pee in the kitchen sink!”

Finally, there was a flush and the noise of the sink running. The overhead vent turns off just as the long-haired Ghoul opens the door and slips under Swiss’ arm. “Sorry,” He grumbles.

Swiss watches him unsteadily climb directly into his assigned top bunk and quickly shut the curtain. An uneasy feeling climbs up Swiss’ spine. Unlike the other Ghouls, Dewdrop almost never discloses when he’s feeling under the weather.

He thinks that Dew is scared they’re going to see him as weak.

Swiss momentarily disregards his need to pee. He steps over to the wall of bunks and carefully pulls back one of the panels where Dew puts his head. The Fire Ghoul’s typical Fireball-esque scent is a bit sour, but what’s causing it is immediately apparent.

None of the Ghouls are due for their heats until the next month during the Samhain, and as far as Swiss can tell, none of their pack have noticed Heat symptoms despite them being stuffed together on a bus.

“Fuck off,” Dew immediately turns onto his other side to escape his view. A little cough escapes his tightly-shut lips.

“Hey, I just wanted to see if you were feeling alright,” The Multi-Ghoul moves a strand of pale, blond hair off Dew’s pillow. “Sorry I rushed you.”

Dew’s body curls up tighter under his blanket. “I’m just tired. I’m trying to sleep before the ritual.”

“You sure? It’s okay if you’re sick.”

Dewdrop just nods, pressing more into his pillow.

Swiss knows a dismissal when he sees one. He’s not going to get any more out of the Fire Ghoul without a fight erupting between them. He sighs and closes the black out curtain.

Copia appears in the hallway just then, opening the door to the small bedroom at the back of the bus. “Good morning Swiss,” He says softly. He’s always aware of the possibility of his Ghouls resting in the bunks.

“Good morning, Papa,” Swiss glances at the closed curtain before meeting Copia’s mismatched eyes.

Copia follows and quirks an eyebrow. “Everything alright? Did Dew kick you out of bed again?”

Swiss opens his mouth but closes it when he realizes how Dewdrop could hear them. That would definitely cause an argument. He shakes his head and allows Copia to slide past him in the hallway. “Everything’s fine…I think.”

The last handful of hours before the group’s destination was spent packing their things to transition quickly to the hotel after the night’s ritual. Nobody wanted to pack their bunk after a three-hour performance.

Dewdrop is quiet, staying to himself except for when Papa calls them all to the living room to prep them about the venue. He clears his throat in the way an old lady would, though black tendrils of soot and smoke come from under his fist.

Thankfully, tonight was a stadium most of them had played on while Copia was a Cardinal, so they only had to catch Phantom and Aurora up to speed on the backstage layout.

The tour bus pulls up behind the large venue and the group is ushered off and into the building as cameras and people try to get shots of them.

Copia lets out a steadying breath as they’re guided to the three dressing rooms. ‘Still not used to all the cameras, heh,” He says to Dew quietly walking beside him.

Dewdrop shrugs and flips a chunk of hair over his shoulder. He escapes into the green room before Copia begins his usual spiel of how long they have until curtain.

The singer looks to the Multi-Ghoul for an explanation, but Swiss can only answer with a shrug. “Please make sure everything is alright with him,” Copia says quietly to Swiss as the group disperses.

Swiss takes the words into his heart and ignores the setup area for him to apply his black face paint. He beelines for the locked bathroom door, seeing that Phantom, Rain and Mountain are still filing into the room.

He knocks.

“Just a fuckin’ minute!” Comes the annoyed call from inside.

The Multi-Ghoul sighs. He decides to take the vanity closest to the bathroom and begins the process of tying up his locs to fit under his helmet. He’s able to get dressed, apply makeup, and even put on his tall boots before Dewdrop is stumbling out.

The small Ghoul’s t-shirt and jeans are soaked in sweat. His scent has somehow soured even more than it smelled earlier, resembling a rotten cinnamon plant. He takes the last vanity open, between Swiss and Mountain. He doesn’t say anything and begins his usual routine.

Mountain notices immediately. It would be impossible not to be in this small room. “You usually don’t sweat this much Dew.” He reaches a hand out to press against the Ghoul’s gray forehead when Dew recoils like Mountain is a stranger.

“Hey! Watch where you’re fucking touching!” He snarls, fangs bared.

“I’m just worried—”

“Worry about your own damn self for once, Mountain! I’m not sick, I’m not sweating more than usual, and I’m fucking fine.” A small plume of smoke curls from his mouth as he coughs into his fist. He avoids their concerned gazes in the connected mirrors, mopping his forehead with his t-shirt and changing into his Impera uniform.

Swiss watches uneasily. He can’t watch too much, or the Fire Ghoul’s anger will be directed towards him, but if he doesn’t watch enough, he’s scared he’s going to miss a tiny detail that will explain why Dew is feeling this way.

Kevin sticks his head through the doorway and calls for them to head backstage.

Dewdrop is just finishing putting his hair in tight plaits and pulling his balaclava over his head. He’s the last to leave, his right shoe still untied.

Ashley meets them at the backstage entrance, her checks over Copia’s sparkly outfit already completed. She rakes a keen eye over the eight Ghouls, her gaze landing on Dewdrop’s disheveled appearance. She crouches before he can, tying his shoes with ease. She also tightens the strap under his chin for his helmet, pausing so she can get a look at his eyes.

His mismatched blue and red eyes are bloodshot, teary and he has a miserable expression visible even as his face is covered.

She shakes her head, pulling away. “If you need something, just head backstage where Papa goes,” She says as low as she can. Ashley is that close to them to understand all the strange rules the Ghouls have with each other, but she can tell when one of them isn’t up to snuff (especially a Ghoul that usually holds himself with the utmost confidence). Whatever it is, it’s too late to deal with now.

He nods, gives her a grateful smile, and heads out on stage behind his packmates.

Copia notices something is really wrong right before the encore.

The house and stage lights have gone down so Copia can slip into his red encore jacket, and he takes a quick second to meet the gazes of each Ghoul as they trade instruments for the last three songs.

Everyone is tired but has the usual glow of excitement. Except for Dewdrop.

Kevin exchanges guitars with the Fire Ghoul and Dew immediately goes back to his mark rather than passing by Copia.

Thankfully, Dew is the last Ghoul back on, so he can catch up with him. His mic is back on the stand so there’s no need to worry about if the crowd can hear them over their cheers as Rain holds a bass note over the arena.

“Dew, you don’t look so hot,” Copia has to shout. The Ghoul looks more sweaty than usual and the smoke around his helmet isn’t the usual white of Swiss’ joints. It smells acrid, like a wildfire taking over a vineyard of sour grapes.

He shakes his helmet. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.”

“Swiss looked like there was something bothering you—”

Dewdrop’s eyes are blazingly visible through the goggle lenses. “I’m fine, Papa. Let’s just finish the fucking concert and get to the hotel, okay?!”

Copia’s mouth snaps shut at the angry tone from his most beloved Ghoul. He wants to figure this out, but this is neither the time nor place for it. The crowd is actively getting louder in front of them as their eyes adjust to the lowlighting. “We’re talking about this after,” Copia squeezes Dewdrop’s shoulder before heading to center stage as the lights come back up.

Kiss the Go-Goat is first on set and Copia uses it to his advantage. When he saunters over to the Fire Ghoul to swing a hand between his legs and hug the Ghoul’s thigh, Copia focuses on his gut instinct to feel what’s going on with Dewdrop.

He smells like sweat (of course, they’re performing) and a soured, high smell far off from his typical scent. Copia doesn’t have enough time to ponder it anymore as he releases Dew’s legs and moves back to his position.

They finish the three encore songs and line up together for final bows. Swiss makes sure to press himself on Dew’s left when he puts himself on the end of the row.

They bow once.

They bow twice; and when their heads face downward, Dewdrop sneezes so hard his helmet shakes and the white covering for horn pops off.

An echo of ‘bless you’ and ‘gesundheits’ come from the fans at the barrier. Dewdrop uses his dirty guitar rag to wipe under his mask as the group makes their way backstage. It further smears the sweaty black face paint and rubs on the conditioning oil from the fretboard.

Mountain’s sharp ears detect the latest cough and suddenly there’s a large hand grasping Dew’s shoulder and stopping him from fleeing into the bathroom. “Dewdrop.”

“Let me go, motherfucker,” Dewdrop snaps nasally. It draws the attention of the rest of the Ghouls and even Copia. “I’m fine!”

“No you aren’t. You’ve been coughing, sneezing, and now even your voice sounds stuffy,” Swiss steps forward.

Dewdrop glares at him through his goggles. “Stop prying!”

Rain uses his most gentle voice, one that never fails to tame the Fire Ghoul’s brattiest episodes. Maybe it’s just their connection as Water Ghouls that makes Dewdrop fold so easily to his voice. “Droplet, we just want to make sure you’re okay. You don’t look healthy and I’m concerned you’re neglecting yourself.”

“Neglecting myself? Like a pathetic little kit? No way. Like I told this brute of an Earth Ghoul, I’m perfectly fine and strong.”

“I didn’t say anything about your strength,” Rain says.

Dewdrop’s helmet passes over all eight concerned gazes, even Ashley and Kevin standing a bit away with the rack of guitars. “Fine. I’ve been sick with some pathetic little human cold for the past couple nights and it hasn’t gone away and now I’m going to ruin the tour so thank you very much for exposing this.” His lower lip wobbles and the heartbreaking sound of a sniffle comes from under his mask.

Copia cocks his head, “Why would this ruin the tour?”

“I see those posts from artists that cancel shows because one of the players is sick. I see the disappointed comments from fans, the loss of revenue,” The Fire Ghoul snaps.

“Dew, we don’t have another ritual for three days. That’s plenty of time to use Quintessence and medicine to heal you. Not to say you should’ve worked through this illness without any help, but you’re a Ghoul. There are plenty of ways we could’ve given you rests on stage,” Copia rubs Dewdrop’s back.

Dew makes a noise close to a whimper. “Can we just get to the hotel already?”

Copia guides Dew back to the male Ghoul’s dressing room. Once seated, Dew bats away Copia’s hands. “Go pack up, Papa. I can do this on my own.”

The singer hesitates until Swiss and Mountain give him a nod. He leaves with one final squeeze to Dew’s arm.

Swiss takes a knee in front of the Fire Ghoul’s chair. “Give me your foot.”

“I don’t need to be babied just because I’m sick.”

He shrugs, “Maybe I just wanna suck your toes. Gimme.”

Dew can’t help the small laugh that comes at the tail-end of his smoke-filled cough. He lets Swiss quickly unlace and undo his boots, setting them aside. Socks, then helmet, hood, and wig cap are next. Rain steps up behind him and lets down the blonde braids, undoing them but tying a loose ponytail to keep the hair off Dew’s sweaty forehead. He wipes off the grease and makeup with a cloth while Swiss unbuckles Dew’s waistcoat.

He’s stripped and put in sweats, a shirt, and flip flops then ushered onto the tour bus without lifting a finger. Ashley and the Ghouls clear the dressing room and pack things under the bus.

With everyone packed up, the group settles on the bus for the two hour trip to the hotel. They would’ve gotten one closer, but this one is perfectly between this arena and the next stadium.

Dew accepts a to-go tumbler of tea from Mountain and retreats to the Earth Ghoul’s bunk for snuggles until they arrive.

Hotel rooms are usually split with three Ghouls to a room, with one of them sharing with Copia. This time the schedule was Swiss, Dew, Copia; Cirrus, Cumulus, Rain; and the last room being Mountain, Phantom, Aurora.

Copia doles out the key cards and looks to where Dew is sitting on a lobby couch with Phantom pressed into his side. “Mountain, would you come with me to the store to get some medication?”

“All of us want to come!” Aurora proclaims from her place between Cirrus and Cumulus. “We want to make sure we get the right medicine for Dew.”

The singer sighs, knowing he can’t resist the Ghouls’ puppy dog gazes, even while still helmeted. He waves them towards the elevators, “We need to change first. There’s no need to drag cameras and paparazzi around.” He eyes the waiting crowd by the hotel entrance.

They agree and pile into the mirror-encased elevator. Dew sags against Mountain’s strong grip, falling asleep standing up until he’s wracked with a smoky cough. Thankfully all of their rooms are grouped together on one of the higher levels, so there’s not many other guests that will bother them (or be bothered by a bratty, sick Fire Ghoul).

Everyone splinters off to unpack and change. Copia holds open the door for Swiss and Dewdrop, then wrangles their three suitcases inside. “I think a shower will do you good. That’s what helps me,” He nods to the spacious bathroom.

Dewdrop must be really bad off to not complain and simply walk in and start the shower.

Swiss shoots Copia a worried look.

Copia sighs, stepping into the bathroom, “Dew, what are your illness symptoms? Swiss will stay here with you while we go to the store.”

“You don’t need to risk the paparazzi for me--” He tries.

“Nuh uh, we’re getting you medicine. Symptoms, please.”

He can see the outline of Dew standing under the steamy spray through the frosted curtain. “Cough, sore throat, stuffy nose, body aches.”

Copia types them into the text field to send to Mountain. “Good, good. Do you like a certain flavor of electrolyte drinks?”

“Red.”

He pauses typing the next message. “What the fuck kind of flavor is red?”

“I don’t know the name, it’s just fucking red,” Dew snaps.

Copia sighs, “Okay, I’ll figure out whatever the hell that means. Anything else?”

It takes a moment, but just over the rustle of the shower and the sound of Swiss watching tv comes the timid request, “...Can I have some beef jerky?”

The Anti-Pope’s posture softens. He has to remember that through all the brattiness and backlashing is a scared Ghoul who believes he’ll be sent away if he’s too sick to perform. “Of course. I’ll change and then we’ll get you things to make you feel better, alright?”

Dew pokes his head around the shower curtain. “Thanks, Papa.” He looks like a pathetic, drowned rat.

Copia presses a kiss to his wet forehead. It leaves a smeared gray stain. “Oops. Good thing you’re in the shower,” He grins.

Those mismatched red and blue eyes cross as he looks up to his forehead. An affectionately pissed off frown crosses his lips. “Get out, you old perv. I’m trying to jack off.”

Copia laughs and shuts the bathroom door as he leaves. “I think the shower is helping him.”

Swiss looks over from where he’s sitting on the corner of the large king-sized bed. There’s a documentary about some type of ocean animal playing on the tv. “Snappy?”

“A bit, but less than earlier.” Copia hefts his suitcase onto the stand and pulls out one of his favorite red Adidas track suits. He changes and does his best to ignore the amber eyes hungrily watching him. He wipes off his papal paint with a makeup remover wipe. He pulls on his “Dad” sneakers and holds out his arms for Swiss to look him over.

“Congrats, you look like a douchebag father and not a compassionate Satanic pope,” Swiss snickers. The shower turns off. “Shoo, I want Dewdrop cuddles.”

Copia grabs his wallet and leaves with a smile on his face.

Tiffani has seen a lot of bullshit during her time as a night clerk at the CVS on Azalea Avenue. She isn’t fazed by anything anymore, and the police that would respond to her getting robbed are hanging out in the Bojangles parking lot next door. Tonight is another boring, muggy night at her part-time summer job.

She doesn’t even look up when the doors shuffle apart for a visitor. However, when she hears the large amount of chatter, she looks up just to see that it’s not a full group of gang members coming to hit this CVS like the one on the other side of town last month.

It’s a gang…but not one that’s going to rob her.

Coming through the doors are the weirdest group of people she’s ever seen. There’s a normal looking white dude in a tracksuit, then six people dressed in all black with steampunk-inspired goggle helmets. They vary in body size and height, but all of their helmets are identical.

They shuffle inside, looking around at the signs hung over each aisle.

Suddenly, they’re all looking at her as the normal guy approaches the counter. “Scusi , miss, where do you find illness medicine?”

Well, he looks normal until she sees that he has one normal green eye and one that is devoid of an iris, simply a black pupil in a sea of white. His nervous demeanor makes her a little less freaked out, but the odd name for cold medicine brings that feeling right back. Is this guy human?

“Like for the flu?” She asks dumbly.

The guy looks to the tallest of the cult members, who nods. “The Influenza, yes.”

She points to aisle ten, “It’s down at the far end.”

The guy waves his cult members in that direction. As they walk away, Tiffani can hear them chirp and chatter to each other in the same way cats do when they see birds out a window.

It takes them only a few moments before the group is heading back towards the counter, a pack of Sudafed and Mucinex medication in the tallest cult member’s hands. In two of the shorter, possibly female members’ hands are a total of eight different colors of Gatorade, then three large packs of beef jerky in the skinniest member’s hands.

Tiffani actually gets a bit excited because buying Sudafed means she’ll have to check one of their IDs. Maybe she’ll get a name and can look these guys up to see what weird cult they’re a part of.

The white guy takes the medication from the helmeted guy and sets them on the counter. The others set theirs too.

She scans them both. “Can I see a form of ID?”

His eyebrows furrowed together. “ID? Why does medicine require a driver’s license?”

“People use Sudafed to make meth, so the store requires us to make sure people aren’t buying too much,” She says and takes his offered identification.

STATE OF MASSACHUSETTS

Copia Samael Emeritus, IV

Born June 6, 1970

Height 5’11”

Eye color L BLIND, R GRN

So he’s not wearing contacts, he just has a blind eye. He’s just some dude.

He pays for the medicine with a credit card that has a design of an upside down cross with a semicircle around its intersecting lines.

“Do you want a bag?” She asks. It’s a lot of things for them to carry.

The tall cult member behind him coughs out an immediate, “NO.”

“Yes, it’s better to not use single-use plastics, no thank you, dear,” The human man says. He takes the two boxes of medication and the long receipt from her. The others come forward and grab their respective items, then shuffle off towards the exit.

Tiffani is immediately pulling out her phone texting her best friend as soon as the doors shut behind them.

Dude I think I just saw aliens!!!

“We’re back!” Copia calls as he opens the door to his shared hotel room. The Ghouls shuffle in and place their items at the foot of the bed, acting as if they were special offerings to an altar like they do at the Ministry.

Dew blinks awake from his spot pressed into Swiss’ collarbone. “Hey guys,” He croaks.

Mountain rounds the side of the bed, cracking open a Fruit Punch-flavored Gatorade and one blister pack of Sudafed. “Here, Firelilly. Sip carefully.”

“Shit we forgot tissues!” Aurora cries. “I was supposed to grab them! I’m so sorry, Dew.”

The Fire Ghoul gives her a weak smile after he swallows the pills. “It’s okay, Rory.”

Copia puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We can get them delivered to the front desk. No worries, it’s been a long day for everyone. Please rest. I’ll see all of you at breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant at 9:30am tomorrow morning.”

They all give some sort of comfort touch to the Fire Ghoul and separate to their own hotel rooms. Copia kicks off his shoes and strips down into just his VVLGARI shirt and briefs. He puts all the medicine and drinks on Swiss’ nightstand, then climbs into bed, sandwiching Dewdrop between them.

“Come here, piccolo,” He says softly. “I’m not upset that you’re sick, and you’re most definitely not going to be banished. Soon, we’ll be back at the Ministry and Aether will tell you how brave you are, just like I am right now.”

Dewdrop sniffles (whether from illness or tears, he won’t comment), and carefully nestles into Copia’s chest. Swiss brackets him from the other side.

Swiss’ connection to Quintessence will keep Copia from getting sick and his fireside will help the medication to sink into Dew’s Fire energy.

Tomorrow he should be feeling one step closer to his normal self, but for tonight, Copia enjoys the way Dew clings to him, safe and vulnerable.

“I love you, Papa,” Dew whispers.

A soft purr vibrates through his chest from the mingling contentment of his Ghouls.

“ Ti amo , Dew and Swiss.”

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slashmagpie · 1 year ago

Text

Blood & Snow

Pt. I

Directory: {Pt. II} {Pt. III} {Pt. IV} {Pt. V} {Pt. VI} {Pt. VII} {AO3}

Welcome to my @hermithorrorweek fic! I spent a while trying to figure out seven different fic concepts based on the prompt, and kept coming up blank, up until I decided to combine them all and write a single fic, with each prompt being the theme for a different chapter. Blood & Snow is the result, and at the time of posting it is not quite complete, but I'm excited to share it with you nonetheless. I'm hoping to post a chapter once per day, but later chapters may be delayed depending on how long it takes me to get them written. Some of this builds off concepts I played with in some of my earlier Decked Out 2 ficlets, which you can find in my writing tag. TWs for this chapter include: non-consensual body modification*, unreality*, panic attacks

I. GAME MECHANICS

Game design is simple, really.

Well, no, it’s difficult—but the principles behind it are simple. Make it fun. Make it challenging. Make it rewarding.

Decked Out 2 is a game.

To be more precise, it’s a long-running, deck-building, dungeon-crawling game. It’s competitive. It has rewards—bragging rights, for one. Trophies, for another. If you win, you can get crowns, and buy things to make you more powerful, to make the game more fun. You get frost embers, which are used to build the deck, and—

Clank is Decked Out’s central mechanic. Trigger a shrieker, generate clank. Easy as that. Taking your artefact will also generate clank, because it angers the spirits of the dungeon. That’s another important thing about game design: atmosphere. Design. Having something that feels cohesive. So—no, max clank isn’t quite as dangerous as it should be, but very few mobs would work to replace the vex, because, well, they’re not the spirits of the dungeon, and—

Hazard is generated every thirty-seven seconds, roughly. It used to be thirty, but that lined up with card draws, and the sound cues were hard to keep track of. So. Hazard is generated every thirty-seven seconds, roughly. Hazard makes the dungeon more dangerous to traverse, by closing doors, raising pathways, and otherwise making certain routes more dangerous or downright impossible to cross. People underestimate hazard at first, but quickly find out that hazard kills. When clank maxes out, that turns into hazard too, because max clank wasn’t dangerous enough by itself, because the vexes aren’t doing their damn jobs—

There were two older systems that got replaced. Not a lot of people know that. Focus could be built up, would synergise with other cards, but it was just—it wasn’t working. It got reworked. No one would miss it. Delve was a difficulty setting, but it was dumb, just press a button to choose your difficulty, that works way better, and—

Game design is simple, really.

Decked Out is not a game.

Had it ever been a game? In its first iteration, back in season seven, had it hungered the way it does now? Had it slept, slumbering beneath the earth, soaking in blood that would slowly, slowly bring it to life? When the idea had wormed its way into Tango’s head, a sequel—had that been his own thought? Does it matter if it was?

He’d certainly thought it was. Began drafting up plans, re-evaluating what he’d done in the past and putting better spins on them. Decked Out 2 would be huge, would be the biggest project he’d ever worked on, but it wouldn’t take that long. Surely.

…Thirteen months later, Decked Out 2 opened its doors.

Thirteen months. It had started as a hole, as many things do. A hole, a build, a plan, a citadel—Tango had thrown himself into it like he would with any huge project. And at first it had been—it had been a project. A build, a game. A giant hole filled with promise. A castle built in a week. Just Hermitcraft things. The usual.

When had it started? When he’d dug, and dug, for hours and hours upon end? When he’d carved jagged-looking scars into the landscape and dragged the citadel up from them? When he’d started building level one? When he’d begun assembling the redstone? When the ravagers and wardens began to roam its halls? When did Decked Out come alive?

…Had it always been alive?

Okay, better question: when did—

A frozen shard is placed into the barrel. The door lights up, sounds play. The door opens. The hermit—Joe?—begins to take off their armour and items and set up the game. A difficulty button is pressed. A shulker is placed into its slot. The cards begin to filter through the system. A minecart ride, and a pressure plate—

Decked Out turns on.

The Dungeon watches carefully, hungrily. A shrieker triggers. A hazard door closes. The game is running, the game is alive, the game is always alive—

The Dungeon Master floats, untethered, bodiless, watching, speaking, unheard, unseen. His body stands in the dark, empty, eyes sightless and lungs unbreathing. Why would he need to breathe? Dungeons don’t need to breathe, after all. Games don’t need to breathe. And Decked Out isn’t a game, not really, but it still works on principles of game design, and none of those principles require the game to breathe.

So the Dungeon watches, and the Dungeon Master watches, and Joe runs straight into the blood-stained horns of a ravager, and—

And—

Tango tries to blink. To breathe. A hazard door slams open and closed. The wires are crossed, that’s not—he needs to go—an attempt to step forward dispenses a stack of frost embers into the dungeon. They’re not supposed to do that. That’s a bug, he needs to fix—

He needs his hands—

Stone walls aren’t fingers, but they flex all the same, groaning under the strain—

There’s an itching in his legs. Skulk creeps up the walls. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t—

It’s dark. A warden sniffs. A shrieker howls. Stone becomes sinew becomes skulk becomes shadow becomes smoke becomes a soul. The Dungeon Master wrenches open his sightless eyes, and the Dungeon sees—

(Buildings aren’t meant to have panic attacks. Neither are dungeons. Nor games. But Decked Out is not a game, never really has been, and Tango—)

Joe and Hypno stare in bafflement at the flickering availability metre outside of the dungeon. “Tango, fix your game!” Hypno cries, and—

Ha.

Here’s a better question: when did Tango become Decked Out?

#magpie feather quill #hermitcraft #fanfiction #hermithorrorweek2023 #the *s next to the trigger warnings are because those are the closest words i can think of to describe what is happening #but they're like. not totally right?#i think that if you have issues with ncbm or unreality then you should be careful engaging with this chapter #but i wouldn't say that this chapter necessarily contains ncbm or unreality #idk. it's weird.#also i will update the directory links when i post new chapters lmao

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trainingdummyrabbit · 3 months ago

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oooooooobhhhh...... would it be alright if you talked abt ur ocs......... if it's not a bother.......

stands here like some sort of beast . this took me two days. im so sorry. inhales

i can absolutely talk abt my ocs yeah :D never ever a bother!!

this is rose and wolfe! theyre two of my lobcorp ocs whom i love very dearly :] they (and the rest of their group) have their own lil story going on, but i say that very loosely bc im just having fun honestly ^_^ and they sure do love making decisions that make that Rather Difficult For Me. but alas, anyhow,

this is inevitably going to get Pretty Fucking Long! (post-post edit. ~35 paragraphs.) so if youre prepared for that. 👍 yippy!! anyway hope you like fucked up little lesbians bc here we go

im probably going to be retreading ground here a bit bc im gonna try and take it from the top, but also because i dont remember what ive said and what i havent so ill just say whatever i remember ^_^

the basic gist of th storyline is that its kind of a pseudo-murdermystery but instead of dying u get turned into some sort of beastie ! ^_^ aka 'nobody knows what the distortion phenomenon is yet and are kinda too busy freaking out about it to notice headquarters exploded last week'. dont worry about that.

slaps notes on the table. this is gonna be really messy and maybe kinda incomprehensible but its ok bc this is just how its going to be. hope this helps.

OK LISTEN. they started out as one thing and then slowly kinda turned into something else and theyve been haunting me for months but they make talking about them Literally Impossible because of how much they just. fucking cling to each other, narratively. its impossible. they make everything so fucking difficult.

wolfe is some offshoot of a take on those Edgy Playground Wolf Ocs that you see a lot in middle school-- or well, thats the root of it. she was always going to be played fully seriously, but everyone was kinda written more silly-like towards the beginning anyhow. yknow, one of those 'orphan lab experiment who pretty much had to take care of themself and really hates people, with Cool Mysterious Powers theyre really conflicted about' type characters. and honestly a lot of that still sticks, really.

she presents herself in a kind of over-the-top way to try and get people to take her seriously and leave her alone, but honestly its just kind of . offputting.. in a way, shes kind of a stand-in for what its like to be a teenager (neurodivergence notwithstanding). sometimes the only thing you can do to get people to listen to you is to make a scene and yell really loud! and everyone will always discredit it as just something that happens while growing up, being "disobedient" because you want attention or want to be rebellious and contrary, but everything you feel IS real and it DOES hurt and nobody BELIEVES you so all you can do is yell LOUDER. its all theyll respond to. (and all it does is make people double down on what they think of you.)

wolfe is a character that is honestly kind of genuinely a bit extra, a little bit embarrassing, but very genuine. a lot of her life was spent not being able to decide what happened to her physically; just kinda pulled and prodded around whether she liked it or not; (again, the whole orphan lab experiment thing was never a lie.) and thrashing around is really all she can do about it. be inconvenient, irritating, hard to deal with; any small victory, any little foothold would do. unfortunately, most of what that's ever done is make things harder for herself. (she hates being expected to be something convenient to others, yet in her attempts to cast it away, forms her worldview to the dichotomy they set up around her. curious !)

so you have this fucked up lil thing and drop her into an lcorp facility. great superb fantastic. n then you give her some ego gear and it messes her up Big Time because guess what, her body is all sorts of fucked up and is Not reacting well with this whole thing, causing it to quite literally Stick and all those 'mild' side effects are now 'major' side effects and everyones Fussing over you again because youre an Anomaly and you Dont get any rest and youre still getting used to a body and mind that isnt Quite what it was before and you Cant leave since they need to figure out whats going on here and Oh God Fucking Damn It Its Again.

so its pretty fair that shes being Like That about the whole thing all things considered.

at this point shes just trying to make it through day by day without someone prodding her about something or another, just stop Staring at her already, fuck off. just one foot in front of the other and try not to think about it too hard. thumbsup 👍 more often than not she works alone; not just because of her own decisions, but also did you know cobalt scar gets a boost on low hp for the exchange of activating friendly fire? pretty crazy. shes kinda reckless and bound to get herself hurt anyway, so it doesnt really Change anything to just kinda.. send her out there without backup. not like she works well with others anyway, right? itd be pretty dangerous to pair her up with someone n all. yknow.

it kinda sucks, yknow? at this point shes so fucking tired of The Everything that honestly she just wants to get in and get out as quickly as possible without having to deal with any nonsense. shes still really pissed off about the entire Situation, still trying to keep any small bit of autonomy she gets to have, but like. well. sometimes it really is easier to just Do Your Job And Leave. finish your tasks and not think about it and not bother with anyone and fuck off until you have to do it again. thats how it always wouldve been anyway, right? easy. annoying. so, so annoying. god she fucking hates it here.

so anyway, rose. she sucks. she doesnt, but i have to say it every time i talk about her Or Else. shes the reason i have such a hard time talking about The Everything. and also why i had to rewrite this and take Two Days getting to it. she is just. So Much. shes an idiot. shes too smart for her own good. she would fit right in as a YA novel protagonist. this is all stalling on trying to explain what the hell is wrong with her.

honestly on a surface level shes pretty chill all things considered. mostly stays in her lane, gets along with people pretty easily, just kinda goes here, pretty good at small talk. she loves listening to people. she Loves listening to people. the problem. she isnt lying, per se, about her entire Presentation and general manner of being, but she isnt really honest either. shes disingenuous. kind of.

rose as a character is Very aware of how people act, and why they choose what they do in what situations. as such, she has gotten very good at Acting A Part rather than actually Living It. she loves listening to people because she wants to know who they are. not in a "i want to get to know my coworkers ^_^" type of way but in a "writing down all your character traits and quirks to record your habits" type of way. a weird sort of genre-awareness. she is very Very easily able to track exactly what type of person someone is and adjust the way she acts around them to... any sort of effect she wants to, honestly. mostly its just quelling dumb spats and getting people to stop being stupid like people tend to do, but every so often she isnt exactly averse to just kinda... messing with people. only a little! but she Could, if she Wanted to. which she doesnt. because shes nice.

rose sees interpersonal interaction as a complex 'game'. not by that name, but by that function. everyone always Expects something, in engaging with another, and all it really is at its core is getting what you want without giving too much ground. to figure out who the Other is without them figuring out who You are. its a competition. to understand what another person Is is what gives you the advantage. to know is to win, to be known is to lose. keep your cards as close to your chest as you can, and they cant control you. easy. its something everyone Does, but only a few acknowledge. she was just good enough to learn.

but like, admittedly, shes very chill. shes literally nice? like yeah all that but she is literally nice. shes fine. shes like... fine? shes all right. like Yeah it sounds bad when you put it like that but she is literally nice.

rose plays a lot with the idea of Symbol. shes a fully realized person, yeah, but she was never Expected to be. she exists mostly as a formality, and she knows thats all that was really expected of her. she was there to Fulfill An Ideal and little else; so she reaches for what she can when she can. be Sweet and Simple and Pretty-- that's all. and she isnt, she knows this, but it sure does make things simple when thats all people know of you. (impossible for people to dig for information people dont think exists.)

a flower in a broken vase unsure if its defined by the petals or the holes. shes someone intrinsically frustrated by the rules that define her, but is unable to comprehend a self without it. clinging to it because its the sole point of control she feels she can Have over things, but wishing to cast it aside to self realize and prove that shes worth the time of day to acknowledge. (she doesnt care what her caretakers thought of her, but still she defines her actions based on their idea of her. curious !)

so you have these two in the general vicinity of one another right.

rose initially interacts with wolfe as almost a game. a test, even. just to see if she could get anything out of the weird one that sulks in a corner by themself, refusing to interact with anyone. shes just curious, yknow? and wolfe, obviously, takes this about as well as you think she would. dont you have better things to do?? stop asking about my fucking hobbies. ..rose could always count on her for a reaction.

wolfe was very, Very resistant to playing along much at all. she thought that giving just simple brush-off responses would get her to get the hint that it wasnt worth bothering, but then rose would come back with more questions building off of whatever they'd talked about, just... idly talking at her. a frequent annoyance turning into just. consistent background noise. yeah this might as well be happening. but even still, the amount of things that rose remembered and considered and genuinely seemed to listen to kind of caught her off guard. it was... weird. it was really really weird.

it wasnt really all that hard to read what wolfe was feeling at any given moment. it was kind of funny, honestly, especially with how she tended to present herself. (honestly, how did everyone else just Miss all of this?) but after some time, rose was surprised to find that she started to just... speak to her frankly. it was stark, only every so often, almost as if she didnt realize the shift in her own tone. its around then that rose started piecing things together herself and... oh. ohh. (how did everyone just miss all of this?)

Bad News Motherfuckers! Its Fucking Over For Both Of You! wolfe finds someone who is genuinely willing to listen to her on the sole drive of simply Understanding Her, rather than wanting something in exchange, wanting something From her; and rose. god. she finds a reflection of exactly what she wishes she couldve been, things she couldve done, were she not shaped into what she Is. an understanding of something she'd never acknowledged, never knew was there, but was there with her the entire time. someone with a clear understanding of what they are, willing to fight tooth and nail to keep it, regardless of what anyone or anything else tries to do with them. things that the narrative constantly tries to take from them; things that rose wants so desperately to let wolfe keep.

so yknow, girl things. THIS is where things get really annoying.

rose seemed to enjoy messing with wolfe just for fun, but honestly shes just kinda taken by her honesty. she doesnt ever seem to have any ulterior motives when shes around her, she just… is. and does. because she wants to. rose honestly isnt really sure how to handle someone who isnt just… mildly bluffing at all times, especially about connection. that level of vulnerability is scary to her. so she teases her. she expects her being flustered-- and she is-- but still, she finds herself caught off guard by wolfe's earnestness.

even so, rose catches herself being far more open than she intends to be-- accidentally, at first, against her better judgement, but then tentatively, almost as if to test the waters. just how much could she show of herself and still uphold that trust? how many red flags can she put up before wolfe notices? no, that was unfair. before it becomes unforgivable. before it recontextualizes her. she cares, yes, genuinely and deeply so. (but what does that mean, coming from her?) she wants wolfe to be safe. (im asking you to leave.)

wolfe and rose both trust each other to a degree that they dont trust many others. its the passive understanding that theyre very much alike, and the even more silent knowledge that they want better for each other; in a roundabout way of knowing that they themselves deserved better, no matter how much they insist otherwise.

theyre very genuine with each other in a way that kind of surprises themselves. neither of them quite know what theyre doing, nor do they want to put a name to something so fleeting, but… its there.

wolfe desperately wants to be closer to rose, but hates that she desires that vulnerability. (it was always rather dangerous, showing your hand like that.) its an annoying fondness, constantly prickling at the back of her head any time rose is even remotely relevant. even when she isnt. shes kind of haunted. shes very defensive of her in a way she honestly doesnt realize until someone points it out. it just comes naturally to her. (whats the difference between a guard dog and an attack dog again..? (is she really ready to deal with the implications of this? is this not just having another will enacted on you? how does she really feel about that?))

rose, meanwhile, is… actually also conflicted. she likes wolfe. this is obvious. it wasnt intended, and she can roll with it, but it's… complicated. she handles it a lot more analytically. she notices when wolfe takes a step forward, and matches it in turn. equivalent exchange, and all. show that youve noticed, that you care, that youre paying attention. (i think she may be afraid. despite her presentation, she's afraid.)

she acknowledges the feeling of desire in this bond-- she wants wolfe to be able to live outside of others' influence. desperately. (if she cant, then…) she refuses to acknowledge what this says of Herself, though. but most importantly, she knows how easy it would be to simply take the role of someone who controls her. (isnt that just what she's always done to others?) she hates the idea of becoming that. (it would be so easy.) goes out of her way to avoid influencing her in that way-- but somehow, this just makes her more distant. hesitant to touch.

and with that fear, she tends to react, again, logically. tries to solve it like a puzzle, like she always has. finds the shortest distance to a perceived goal. this makes her rather distant, disconnected-- shes trying to control her own feelings by controlling what is around it.

what this means, most importantly, is that she is unable to trust wolfe the way She trusts her. she isnt strong enough to push back against what she sees of herself, or that which she uses to protect herself. giving in to those well-walked patterns instead of being able to brave uncertainty in something that new. she hides herself because she isnt sure what will become of her-- and is too afraid to risk what may come of losing the person she suddenly deeply cares about. setting herself up to crash harder should the worst happen. because she would simply blame herself. proving herself right.

meanwhile wolfe is dealing with Actually Trusting Someone for the first time in longer than she can remember, whether she likes it or not. maybe she was being stupid. maybe this was just a foolish foray into trusting people like she’d always told herself not to do. but… but. rose just brought this sense of comfort wherever she went, this feeling of certainty.

it was never good to let your guard down, but… but just this once, she so badly wanted to. once you let these things go, it becomes harder to get them back. she knew this. and yet, all the parts of her that protested were overruled by a deep desire to simply lie down and fall asleep in that comforting feeling. how frustrating. how annoying. how dangerous. now she had someone she could not argue against. and yet, she held this advantage as if she did not know it was one she wielded, a dangerous thing held without intent. was this trust? …did she want it to be?

and so, foolishly perhaps, she decided to trust. it was a tenuous thing, unbeknownst to anyone but herself. …probably. rose did have a way of seeing right through people. but even through all that, through the Everything… it felt nice to have someone to look out for. someone to worry about, someone on your mind when there used to be nobody else but you. she’d spent so long worrying about the repercussions of leaving your back to someone, yet she’d never known the comfort of having someone do the same to you. she’d never realized how hard it was to do much of anything with fangs bared the entire way. the ache of worry was dull compared to the weight of silence. (she would give her Everything to her. all or nothing, with her. maybe this was simply part of the inevitable problem.)

hey remember the whole turning-into-creatures thing? yeah thats still happening. crazy right? anyway. The Problem.

so you have people turning into things not quite unlike abnormalities, expressions of deep fears and desires running away with what used to be a human. and youve got some fucked up little guy with a Lot of barely repressed issues thats deceptively easy to mess with and actively averse to anybody really reaching out to them whatsoever.

and then rose is trying her best to figure out whats causing all this bullshit going on, but also her . coworker. is suddenly acting Really snappy and distant and its kinda starting to make her worried and she doesnt want to push her but shes looking really rough lately and fuck. wait. god. wait. shit.

long inhale. so you have two stupid motherfuckers 100% willing to drop everything and kill everyone in this facility and then themselves if anything so much as happens to the other (but theyre super normal about it, its fine, the other doesnt have to know.) theyre so good at this interpersonal interaction thing guys they swear (dont look too close though ok haha.) theyre sooo unknowable guys theyre really pulling a fast one on everyone here. they Definitely know what to do to fix the problem forever its fine they totally get it. dont stop them.

anyway heres a bunch of images for no reason

#i had . to rewrite this like 5 paragraphs in IM SO SORRY THEY GET ME REALLY BAD.. THANKYOU FOR WAITING..#its so funny reading btwn older attempts to explain them and this one bc i am so much meaner to rose in this one jshdbfgjd #this didnt even get their Everything im just trying to get this out of my head theyve been haunting me for months and months and months #if i missed anything: oops! hope this helps ^_^#pikocs #piktalk #asking so so politely Be Niceys To Me Okay. :']👍#they Have more its just i need to pin it down bc they keep making Choices adn im a weenie baby. ok.#WAVES HANDS IN THE AIR. ANYWAY.

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knightzp · 11 months ago

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omg can I hear about your ocs im curious

!!!!! yes of course!!

(im warning you this is gonna be Long bc i cant summarize things aldksk)

okay so first theres zayu. shes actually my dnd character and basically her whole story can be summarized in: shes a demon too good and pure for this world. she is such a lovely person an absolute sweetheart who is always very kind and whose mission in life is just having a humble life trying to help others in need as much as she can. but yeah you read it right. she Is a demon so the people from her homeplace didnt like her personality at all and they ended up kicking her out from hell. however some people thought that was a weak punishment and are now after her to make her pay for her "crimes" (the crime in question being a too good person yeah) so zayu is now travelling around around the world enjoying her life as she had never been able to do before and always moving from place to place to avoid the other demons that are chasing her. also this isnt really relevant to her story but i have to say she is very ourple (light purple skin and dark purple hair 💜)

the other characters i mentioned on that post are from an original story i began writing quite a few years ago and that i never finished..... i havent touched it in soooo long but its the only one og story ive started that i really want to finish some day. it takes place in a medieval royalty fantasy setting where theres a continent with many kingdoms. the main characters are from two of these kingdoms which have quite a close relationship

one of the kingdoms has 3 princes: auron (oldest), crysta (middle) and davel (youngest). given their birth order, auron is the heir of the kingdom so was taught mainly politics and necessary knowledge to rule the kingdom as the next king. crysta was raised to be a leader in the army forces so she is now the captain of the royal knights. and davel being the third child and since his siblings already learnt the main disciplines he was taught how to use magic, which is an ancient power that is quickly disappearing nowadays so there arent many people who can cast magic in this universe

on the other kingdom we have a pair of twins: alrick and lavianna (also shortened as lav or lavi) as the prince and princess. alrick was born first so he has always spent most of his time studying and preparing to be the next king while lavianna has had an easier and less busy life in this aspect

as i said both kingdoms have a very close relationship so both families meet up a lot. davel and lav have been best friends since their early childhood and being both the youngest from their families they had a lot of time to play and spend together. both are easygoing and they have the same age and kinda similar personalities (davel is charismatic and adventurous but also lazy when it comes to his studies and lavi is cheerful active and innovative) so they get along very very well. so well that their parents got the wrong idea and used their good relationship to engage them together in an arranged marriage against their will wanting to strengthen even more the alliance between their kingdoms. none of them like each other romantically but even if theyre shocked at first they let things be bc they arrive to the conclusion they prefer to be married to their best friend than have their parents arrange another marriage with an stranger instead

however! there is someone who isnt quite happy with this announcement and thats alrick. he hasnt had as much time to spend with davel in his life as his sister and he is also much more reserved as a person than her but truth is he is jealous. jealous of davel for all the freedom he has (contrary to him who has many responsibilities) and jealous of lavi for being able to spend so much time with davel and for being now engaged with him. bc alrick has a huge crush in davel but no one knows, not davel (who is very dense to these things (actually arospec coded)) nor lavianna (she is a bit suspicious but doesnt know anything for sure)

as for crysta she has a really close relationship with her brother davel and loves to tease him a lot but she isnt that much close with the others. she is a really cool butch lesbian knight who really worries a lot abt her people and has a soft spot for davel and will do anything to help him in any situation

auron isnt very relevant to the story but well. he is already married and just had a child too and is like the perfect prince son soon to be king

and now to end im gonna just to tell you a bit abt the plot. the thing is that one night alrick wakes up and discovers that everyone in his castle has been petrified. the castle workers his parents even lavianna. all of them except for him. so he does the only thing he can think of and rushes to the neightbour kingdom to ask for help. there, davel crysta and their family talk abt what happened and thought abt a way to reverse what seems to be a magical spell that has petrified the people in the castle and the three of them part on a journey to find more answers and a way to reverse the spell

and well thats more or less it!!!

#ask #mutuals 💜#i also have some long notes for the lore of this universe and a general outline of how the whole story would develop until the end aldksk #but yeah.... i have to come back to writing it some day i really like this idea and these ocs......

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cipherexists · 2 years ago

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Documenting a few other details that ive found in the way back machine SPG dig

The Spine was originally created with a spinal column made up of smokestacks similar to a locomotive, thus he was appropriately named The Spine. In 1955, the US government invested millions of dollars into upgrading The Spine. Therein he received a brand new titanium alloy spine, and a multitude of highly classified weapons.

yeah, highly classified weapons?? what???

Eventually David entered high school. He was working towards his A+ Certification in computers and looking towards becoming an IT Technician. A sudden (but possibly long overdue) divorce between his parents turned David's life upside down during his Junior year. The divorce didn't go well between parents.

This is not included in Bunny's...despite them being twins... i love the 'sudden (but possibly long overdue) divorce'

David met Jerry Hager for the first time when he took his Beginning Acting class at the college. David knew of Jerry's "miming" down at Seaport Village and even visited his professor a few times while he was performing. It wasn't until his [Sister] [Bunny] took Jerry's mime class, and recommend that he take it with [her] again the following year, that David was introduced to the beauty of the art of mime and movement.

Yes you heard the man, The Jon, The Rabbit, The Spine and Upgrade only went through Three (3) mime classes before their first appearances in balboa park. And none more. (see; Steam Powered Giraffe started at the beginning of the second time David took Jerry's mime class.)

More P.A. Walter VI blog shinanigans

*List of images including but not limited to: Giraffes, toothles (HTTYD), fantasy games and GG <3*

wtf dude, 'Eggs of spider infancy within this meek little blog' ???

Back to the website...2014

Rabbit went on to fight against Becile's copper elephants in 1897, outfitted with a prototype blue matter laser lens array, a Gatling Gun attachment, and a collapsible buzz saw. Rabbit's combat history also spans WWI, WWII, and the Vietnam war.

btw they are still canonically fitted with these weapons, they just wont use them...

Hatchworth time >:)

After getting over that pesky omg-I'm-so-nervous-I'm-going-to-poop-out-all-my-guts feeling, he did ok in theater club. Soon there after, he decided anyone can play guitar, so he did

^^ Sam luke on performing <3

For a while after that, they drifted apart (which tends to happen to friends of Sam).

that is so sad, wth

Approximately junior year a tall, gangly fellow (by the name of David) joined the drama club and introduced himself as such. Sam spent many'a afternoon trying to discern the Bennett twins (one wears black and one wears dragons). The only way Sam chooses to explain the early days of "Hangin' With the Bennetts" is as follows:

"it was like being a supporting character on some weird sitcom within a sitcom."

Sam Luke on meeting the Bennet twins :')

Fast forward a bit and it turns out the Bennetts only got weirder with time. They were robots now and apparently they needed a drummer.

That sounds about right..

Somehow I also became a robot apparently.

Do we know how that happened...yes, will i explain that...not yet

When Peter Walter I began constructing an army of robots, he used whatever source of metal he could find. So it wasn't surprising when his own cast iron stove served as the base for a bronze-laden robot.

...that explains the insanity, i too would keep spaghetti in my pocket if i was made of a stove

upon examination Peter Walter II discovered a hairline fracture had been developing for years in the robot's power core. Hatchworth had been leaking a troublesome amount of concentrated blue matter energy[...]Mustache and all, the Walter boys locked Hatchworth in a lead vault deep within Walter Manor until they could find a solution. But months pouring over his original schematics proved fruitless for the boys and soon months turned into years...and then turned into decades.

Thats how hatchworth came about.... yeah no definitely would be insane at that point.

#steam powered giraffe #rabbit spg #spg the spine #spg hatchworth

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darsynia · 2 years ago

Text

Trust Fall | Ch 14b

ARC image by Eury Escodero

Story Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Tony/OC, ‘terrorists made us fall in love;’ IM1 timeline. In this chapter, Tony gets home and starts his campaign to find Emory, and Emory meets Nick Fury.

Length: 2,794

Tags (please don’t hesitate to ask!): @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @starksbf @themaradaniels @chickensarentcheap @tiny-anne

Excerpt:

“Ready and waiting for your instructions, sir.”

“Good. First: Use any and all means, including illegal ones, to lock down the non-essential medical records of a Miss Emory Autumn for the next twenty-four hours. Be obvious. I want them to know it’s me.”

This is a gamble, because there’s a tiny chance she’s actually in some kind of a medical crisis and that’s why there’s been no word. After all, he has no legal right to know anything about her. Tony’s sure that she’s fine except for the abnormal test results which show evidence of her new abilities, however. They were rescued by US forces, and the US forces tested her blood, found out something interesting, and from that point, the woman he loves disappeared. He’s not going to take that lying down, and he wants whoever has her to know it.

“Shall I also inform your lawyer that you may be brought up for charges sometime before the end of the year?”

“If you like, honey buns,” Tony replies.

Chapter Fourteen: [weather redacted in report of unexplained incident in Afghanistan]

No one brings her dinner.

Honestly, that feels like a pathetic power play designed to force her to use her powers. The only thing Emory respects about the decision is that it seems like they actually do believe she won’t try to escape anytime soon, so this is the best they can come up with.

Two hours later, after she’d spent time running the most annoying scales she could think of, knowing that someone is required to listen to them, the lights shut off. Without a window, there’s no way to know whether it’s actually dark, but she’s been tired for hours anyway. The only things keeping her awake are the dual fears that she’ll dream of Tony and generate power in her sleep unless she’s fully exhausted, and the idea that they can manipulate her by exploiting her jet lag from the time difference. This isn’t a military base, she’s sure of it. She’s back in the States.

Pushing away thoughts of Tony is harder when she’s sleepy, but she does her best, and eventually drifts off.

Emory wakes up to a room darker than she’s been in for at least three months. It’s terrifying at first; the cave had always been lit, likely because the terrorists had needed to make sure they could always see the room, even though that hadn’t stopped the escape, in the long run. The good thing about the room being dark now is that it gives her confirmation that there is indeed a hidden window. Across from her bed there’s a ‘closed bedroom door, illuminated hallway’ effect along the whole wall, at the ceiling. The very darkness of the room makes this line of light obvious. It's exactly the sort of detail that is easy to miss. Who would bother checking the room at night, especially if you don’t tell the people modifying the room the reason for its modification?

As she lays in the bed and stares at the evidence of a hidden window in her room, Emory almost feels like she’s absorbed some of Tony’s and Yinsen’s situational intelligence. Again, she asks herself what Tony would do if he were in her place. The answer that comes to her is that he would seek to eliminate weaknesses and amplify strengths.

An obvious weakness is the IV, as is the surveillance. The three of them had never sought to block or destroy the cameras in the cave, because the consequences would have been too risky, with little to no reward. Here, Emory doubts she could reach them even if she could figure out where they were. Here, she’d spent a lot of her singing time changing positions on the bed so she could examine the walls for their location, but the drop ceiling has multiple stains and defects that could all be hiding cameras. In the dark, there are no discernible lights except for the red one over the door, and the green one at the badge scanner. She doesn’t know much about surveillance technology, but assumes that if Tony can build a suit that can do all the things he’d managed in Afghanistan, it’s likely that there are low-light/no-light surveillance cameras.

Then, it hits her. The IV is probably a test, by now, as they haven’t put anything in it in many hours. They’re probably waiting for her to pull it out herself, and noting how much time passes before she does so. If she takes it out now, and no one comes rushing in, that would reveal that her captors can’t see her (or aren’t watching at night, which is unlikely), wouldn’t it? She could kill two birds with one stone, although Emory’s always hated that particular phrase.

She wishes she had any light to go by, or extra tape, because it would be even better if she could pull out the IV and then tape it so it looked like it was still set up, but that’s not feasible. Slowly, carefully, Emory tugs off one pantleg and presses its inside-out hem against the place where the IV goes into her arm. She won’t be able to see if removing it gets really messy, but the scrubs she’s dressed in are dark navy blue, and the hem is a full inch, the fabric doubled. It’s as sneaky as she can be.

When she’s satisfied that her arm isn’t bleeding, Emory lets the tubing drop, puts her pants back on, and lays back in the bed, her heart pounding.

No one comes.

In her mind, she pictures Tony smiling at her. Emory rolls over with her back to the IV pole and gathers up the energy that simple thought has generated, tossing it up so that it ruffles her hair, just like the song she’d sung so many weeks before.

Stane offers to hold a second presser with some rudimentary information, mostly what Rhodey’s commanding officer has okayed about the rescue and Tony’s arm injury. Obie tells him he’ll even add something about Tony’s experience in captivity, how he’s concerned that by continuing Stark Industries’ current path, he’ll be doing what the terrorists wanted-- namely, making more weapons, the use of which will cause more strife in the region.

It’s an ingenious compromise, really. Obie’s powers of persuasion and spin have always been legendary, even if he has acted like a corporate father (with all the selfish, capitalist behavior that naturally entails) rather than a surrogate one, to Tony. He even persuades Tony that any disparity between their messages today about Stark Industries and weapons is just a hint that things are moving so fast that no one should panic yet.

Tony hands off his sling and jacket to a guy in finance who has the same hair and build as he does and sneaks into Happy’s car with Pepper.

The whole car is silent for the first five minutes, though Tony notes that Happy looks in the mirror to check on the two of them a lot, and Pepper’s facial expression seems frozen into deep concern.

“So none of my letters got through?” he asks, feigning confusion to break the ice.

“You mean you got to write--” Pepper starts to say in a squeaky voice, before she realizes and stops talking. Happy chuckles, up front. “That’s not nice. We were really worried, Tony.”

“Yeah, so was I,” he says, tipping his head back and sighing. “So who was the guy talking to you earlier? Looked like a government stiff?”

“Something like that, long department name, wanted to debrief you,” she says, shaking her head. “We’ve gotten a ton of requests from basically every agency.”

“Say yes if it’s Health and Human Services, have you seen the new undersecretary? I think half of the Senate voted yes just so they could get to see her in the news more often,” he teases. “Speaking of which, do you have my phone?” Tony tries to sound casual, but Pepper knows him, so she gives him a look. He wonders if she thinks he’s trying to make up for lost time or if he’s pretending to so he can con the phone out of her and start making changes at the company.

It’s neither. He wants to ask Rhodey about Emory. Tony can’t shake the feeling that the official who spoke to Pepper knows something about her. The phone he had in the Hum-Vee is gone, sure, but even his backups have backups.

“Did any of the other agencies send someone in person?” he asks her.

“No. I assume this guy is so junior that he didn’t get out of the personal visit. You know, haze the new guy by sending him to ask to speak to Tony Stark,” she says, offering him a sweet smile.

“Hmm.” Tony looks out the window to see where they are. Almost home. “He give you his number?”

“Don’t threaten him, okay? He was just doing his job.”

“What, me? Threaten?” Tony feigns utter shock, which is successful, because Pepper starts to laugh. “No, seriously. I get a sense that I ought to talk to at least one out of the multitude. He showed up in person, that takes guts. Gimme.”

Tony takes the way that Pepper allows herself to roll her eyes just a little when handing the business card over as a sign she’s starting to adjust to his return. As Happy pulls up into the driveway, Tony sees the two of them make eye contact in the rearview, and decides to be magnanimous.

He waits till the car stops, and before Happy turns it off, he says, “Hey, so, it turns out I haven’t been alone in about three months, so how about the two of you go expense a fancy dinner to my account tonight, give me a little space?”

Before either of them respond, Tony opens the door and gets out awkwardly, hampered by the arm injury. As usual, the door unlocks as he walks up, because JARVIS is always watching. He considers going up and laying on his bed, but angles toward his basement workshop instead.

He almost gets emotional when he settles into his chair for the first time and sees the three monitors flicker to life.

“Welcome back, sir. It’s really good to see you home safe and sound.”

“Good to hear your voice, JARVIS,” Tony says. It really is. “Not sure about the ‘sound’ part, though.”

“Yes, well. That was always somewhat in doubt, wasn’t it?”

Tony breaks into a grin. “Damn straight.” He grabs the mouse, opens up a search engine, and starts typing. “All right, I have a few directives, all of which are top priority, house on fire stuff.”

“Ready and waiting for your instructions, sir.”

“Shall I also inform your lawyer that you may be brought up for charges sometime before the end of the year?”

“If you like, honey buns,” Tony replies.

“Very well.”

He’s not going to pause for passive-aggressive reckoning from his artificial intelligence. “Second: I want a rolling notification on any and all instances of the name ‘Emory Autumn’ in all media, police band, and available military radio frequencies.”

“Acknowledged. You should also know, sir, that in your absence, you have been upgraded to the latest version of cellular phone. Your previous backup has been copied over. The device is in its box in the drawer on your left.”

“Thanks, J,” Tony says, not reaching for it yet. He’s got a search he’s about to hit enter on, but he needs to collect his thoughts first, because they’ll be scattered as soon as it populates. “Third: I need an intensive search on all airplane manifests, public and private, domestic and international, on the name ‘Emory Autumn’ for the last forty-eight hours. Use our codeword clearance to unlock the military manifests as well.”

“That will ALSO merit attention from the government, do you still wish to proceed?”

“Yes,” Tony says flatly, suppressing a smile. He loves it when JARVIS gets testy.

“Estimate thirty minutes for full access to military flights. I will send the rest of the results as they appear.”

“Thanks,” Tony says. He hits enter.

The three monitors display three different tabs’ worth of search results on the name Emory Autumn. The middle one shows images. It hurts to see Emory and not know where she is. He clicks on one of the images, a candid red carpet photo that is focused on Rory Fall but shows Emory in a modest but stunning gown standing beside her. She looks gorgeous; her friend beside her is wearing something more expensive and flashier, but she looks gaudy and overdressed in comparison. Even Rory’s hair looks dull next to Emory’s, Tony observes.

“Damn,” he says aloud, realizing. He’s pining for this woman, loading up pictures of her like some weird kind of stalker. What he should be doing is finding out where the fuck she is. Tony gestures, and the picture magnifies on the screen. He has to stop himself from reaching out to touch it.

“Ms. Autumn was the person taken alongside you after the ambush in Afghanistan?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t want to know what words might spill out.

“She was listed on a military plane coming into New York yesterday, and an hour later on a flight from New York to Washington, D.C.”

He’d suspected that Emory had been flown out before he was, and this is the confirmation. “D.C.? She lives in California! Get me Rhodes on the phone. Now.”

Rhodey won’t appreciate the pressure, but Tony owes it to his friend to start there before going over his head. And he’s definitely going to go over Rhodey’s head. He’s going to raise hell until he finds out what the fuck is going on.

Emory’s been awake for an hour and a half and her stomach is growling when the light above the door flashes green and it opens. A man walks in. He’s wearing an eye patch and a trenchcoat, and Emory suddenly wishes she had never gone to Afghanistan.

She’s a fraud. A doormat. She can’t see herself being strong enough to stand up to this man, and she never should have pretended like she wanted to.

She’s terrified.

“You asked for the boss. Well, here I am,” the man says. His voice is authoritative and compelling. Emory wishes she could fall through a trapdoor on the floor. She can’t even risk thinking about Tony to make herself feel better, because that’s just what this man wants her to do. “I see you’ve removed your IV.”

“I see you’ve removed--” Emory starts to say, but before she can finish, her visitor holds up a hand.

“Careful.”

“I think you have me mixed up with someone else, someone a lot more brave and ten times more disrespectful,” Emory says, almost laughing. “I was going to say ‘my food privileges,’ for the record.”

“Ah,” the man says, frowning. “That has to do with a stunt your boyfriend pulled on us. He’s figured out how to lock down your medical records, including allergies.”

Emory feels a breeze ruffling her hair, knows its origins, but is nonetheless grateful for the unintentional confidence booster in the word ‘boyfriend.’ Tony’s sabotaging them, in her defense. She could walk on air!

She… actually could. Emory gathers up the excess energy and, carefully, without moving her hands as she ordinarily would, she starts to mentally picture unraveling the ball of energy into a ribbon and tossing it along the floor, hopefully to butt against the fake wall that covers the window and maybe dislodge it a little.

At the same time as she releases the burst of energy, Emory says, “You couldn’t feed me bread and water in the meantime? Or maybe a Dixie cup of water and a vending machine egg salad sandwich would be more situationally appropriate?”

The energetic ball of air strikes the wall with a thump at the same time she says ‘Dixie cup.’ To his credit, the man in the trenchcoat turns his head slowly to look behind him, and then turns back to fix her with a penetrating look.

“Did you do that?”

“If you mean, ‘did I build a fake wall to cover up the fact that the room has a window,’ no, sir, I did not,” Emory says. She’s grateful that she’s sitting in the bed with her hands in her lap, because she’s able to clench her hands tightly around the sheet covering her legs, hopefully without looking like she’s desperately holding onto her sanity.

“I see,” the man says, with gravitas she’ll never be able to accomplish. “Let me start over. My name is Nick Fury. You have information that I need to know. I have information that you need to know. I feel certain we can come to an understanding.”

“What’s in it for me?” she asks, once again channeling Tony.

“Those injections are killing you.”

Next chapter, Emory has a tense stand-off with SHIELD, during which she discovers her new-found confidence thanks to Tony's influence.