#this is very much a time to prepare to fight back in whatever way possible

[federaliszt]

It may not be the end of your world, OP, but the Trump campaign has made it very clear that it will be the end of the world for the people they don't like.

People who think all of the open threats made against minorities was just joking and posturing and electioneering need to wake the fuck up. Even if those threats end up being halted in their tracks, which I hope they will, they were still made openly, and to rounds of cheering and applause. People voted en masse for the person who promised to attack and denigrate the weak. Can you, OP, imagine what it would be like if Kamala had campaigned on an ideology of destroying you and the people you love, to rounds of cheering and applause?

Open your eyes. This isn't about tolerating people whose politics you don't agree with, and it hasn't been for a long time. This is about physical safety and liberty, and what American citizens are willing to do or allow to be done to other Americans.

I myself was raised in a traditional, conservative, Republican household, so I know where you're coming from here, and I can see that your intent is good, and that you're trying to connect and reassure. These are good qualities and I applaud you for sticking your neck out in making this post. But you're talking to the opposite side as though they've all just lost a game of monopoly or baseball and are crying over the loss. That's not what this is. They're not "uncomfortable." They're afraid for their lives. There's a big difference.

TLDR; Your world might not spontaneously combust. But that's a privilege you currently enjoy that many, many others do not.

Political post ahead, and given this is a site that is (I would say) dominantly Democratic/left/"woke," if you don't want to read commentary from a Republican/conservative/"traditionalist," I completely understand, but this is your warning.

Just dropped (albeit somewhat accidentally) into a Tumblr community about Animation, and what should I see than the first several posts being about the US election and about saying Fie upon Donald Trump. And while I genuinely feel for people who have legitimate fear over him taking up the US Presidency, I also find myself a little bit baffled to see people think the world is going to spontaneously combust if he takes office again.

Yes, I will have my own share of concern if Kamala Harris takes office, and while I don't expect things to get any better than they were under the Biden administration, I'm also not screaming-crying-throwing up over the idea. It makes me uncomfortable, but only because her ideology differs from mine, and it's difficult to be comfortable with things we don't agree with.

Long story short, I genuinely wish peace upon anyone, on any part of the political spectrum, who is facing extreme anxiety over the outcome of the election. I also hope you take a breath and realize it's not the end of the world. Please do yourself that service. You're worth the peace, baberino 🙏

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss It Better

Curly (mouthwashing) x reader

AN: No one asked for this but CURLY DESERVED BETTER-!

Sum: You were taking care of Curly, your partner, when you just had to ask him a question that was burning you as much alive as the cockpit burned him. Did he actually crash the ship?

Warnings: 18+, gore, medical situations, Jimmy, violence, just mouthwashing in general, ablism, lots of medical stuff (from someone that knows way to much about medical shit because of being in and out of the hospital all her life)

“Morning honey.” You would force yourself to smile. You had to. You had to for him. To give him hope like he always gave you. To be a little bit of real sunshine through the day. Just wanted to take care of him. Give Anya some kind of break.

A wheeze was your greeting.

Wasn’t like it was his fault. He couldn’t really speak right now. You wondered if he would ever speak again. You would miss his voice but it’s worth it for him to live. He will live, you knew he would. You would make sure of it.

“Let’s have a look at you.” You would grab the clipboard that Anya left for you and took a look over. The small little list to help you understand how to care for his issues. When to wash him, what time his medications were, whatever routine was needed for that day. Was your Bible so to speak. You followed it to the last ink splotch.

“Your bandages don’t look to need to be changed yet, your IV bag needs to be changed, I’ll check your catheter, and yada yada yada. Wanna try and swallow today? Maybe if you can swallow some water I can grind up the pain pills into powder for you. Wanna try?”

He gave two distinct blinks for yes.

“Wonderful. Let me do this routine, so you can mentally prepare.” You would explain, as you went to slip on the latex gloves. Didn’t want to risk transferring some kind of infection. He’s already fighting for his life as it is. No need to make it harder.

You would first change out his IV bag, since he needed to stay as hydrated and fed nutrients as possible, before working on the awkward catheter. Luckily Anya made it very easy to use. She had opted for a condom catheter since she didn’t want to put himself at anymore risk to infections, and pain, as possible. Seemed the trauma made it rather impossible to control his bowls anyway so it worked out. All you had to do was drain the bag, wash it, and reattach it to the side of the table. Wasn’t like he was going to be moving around much anyway.

“So Daisuke was showing me his gameboy. Teaching me about how the lore works and all that. I really had no idea what he was talking about, but it’s better than Swansea snoring.” You laughed, and did your best to keep yourself peppy. To help Curly feel somewhat involved with society. To not just be trapped in the med bay alone. Daisuke and Swansea would visit, and Anya did what she could medically, but sometimes you just need someone to talk to.

“Think it’s a rouge like game. That’s nice. Helps keep you entertained with wanting to break through more and more dungeons in one session.” You rambled, before reattaching the bag. Had you sigh in relief to see you didn’t mess up the chord. Some urine had already started to fill the bag. Must have been triggered by the new IV. Good good. Everything was correct.

“You ready?” You asked, as this was always the hardest part. Getting medication in him. Anya would do her best but you couldn’t blame her for struggling. It’s such a mental tax to try and take care of someone but it results in more pain. You were willing to take that burden. You were his partner after all. You felt it’s only fair you take care of him. Gave Anya some breathing room to actually care for herself. She deserved to take care of herself to.

With two clear blinks you would get to work.

You would slip your hand under his back, and forced him to sit up. He groaned in pain, and tried his best to keep his head upright, as you two tried to work together. To survive this. To try and fight through.

“You are doing so well.” You reassured, as your brought the water bottle up to his open mouth. He was able to let his head hang back, and did what he could to open his throat. Was awkward, but he managed to do it. He took a proper swallow of water. You could hardly hide your excitement.

“You did it! Oh my god you did it!” You couldn’t help but kiss his cheek. It hurt, of course, but he very much felt it was worth it. He had his own pride in being able to do some kind of basic human function again.

You would lay him back down, and was quick to grind up medication to put in the water bottle. You couldn’t wait to tell Anya his progress. You were positive the rest of the crew would be happy to hear the progress.

Well…..Most of the crew.

You used your anger towards Jimmy to help you grind the pain killers into powder. Oh how you hated him. You knew deep down he was responsible for the crash. You knew he was. You weren’t sure why he would be, but you just knew that Curly would never. If he had to, for whatever reason, he would have come on to the intercom to inform everyone to prepare for a crash. He would have done something. Anything.

What purpose would there be in crashing the ship?

Jimmy was his copilot. He would be the only other person to have access to the cockpit. He had to have been involved somehow. There had to have been something going on. You just knew it.

You just wish you had proof.

You sighed, as you would shake up the powder in the bottle. Made sure it was fully dissolved to avoid any issues with it going down his throat.

You just couldn’t understand.

Why would Jimmy crash the ship?

You would return back to curly, and do the same routine again. Slow, and small, drips into his throat. Would take a while, and would make your arm beg for death, but this would make life easier for Curly. That’s all that mattered. A arm cramp is worth it to help Curly survive.

“Curly…..Since you are more lucid now I….I just gotta ask something.”

The way his eye darted towards you said he knew what you were going to ask. Knew that it’ll be asked. He knew, and he couldn’t help but try and look towards the door. As if afraid someone would walk in.

That had you very concerned.

“…..Jimmy crashed the ship, didn’t he?” You whispered. Tried to be as hush as possible, in case someone did overhear. Was just the slow drips of the water into his dry mouth, and you.

One blink.

Two blinks.

“I fucking knew it.” You gritted your teeth, as you felt stupid to ever even have the slightest doubt that any possible reality there would be that Curly would do such a thing.

“I wish I could ask you why. Do…Do you know why?” You had to ask. You just needed to know. Know if Jimmy was as dangerous as you thought.

One blink.

T-

“How’s the captain doing?”

You would turn your head sharply, and saw Jimmy. Just standing there. God you were terrified how long he had been there. Did he hear what you asked? Didn’t seem so. Jimmy was a very aggressive person. He snapped at the slightest tone shift. If he heard you ask a question like that you wouldn’t be talking now.

“He’s….Alive.” You were caught rather off guard. You didn’t know what to say. You were scared of him. You had to be brave, though. You had a better chance at defending yourself. Curly couldn’t.

You would hear his heavy foot steps come closer, and out right feel his body heat against yours. Just looking over your shoulder. Was like this burning shadow over you. Made you feel like you’ll be squashed like a bug.

“Has he been able to talk yet?”

That’s a weird question to ask. Why not ask how he’s feeling, what progress he’s made, how his vitals are. Why is him talking on the front of his mind?

Because Curly knew something he shouldn’t.

“No. I think he’s lost his voice for good. I don’t think he’s ever going to speak again.” You lied, as you finished the test of the bottle. Returned your partner back on the table, and spun around. Nose to chest to the man. Had you terrified, but you must be brave. For Curly.

“Damn. Rough for him. No more barking orders, huh?” Jimmy tried to joke, but you could only give an awkward laugh at. Mostly to keep from pissing him off.

If he’s willing to crash a ship what else is he willing to do?

“Did you need something?” You managed to force out, as you grabbed the clipboard. Just trying to find an excuse to not look directly at Jimmy. To have a motive as to why you would stay in the med bay longer than most. Just anything to get Jimmy to leave you two alone.

“Hey, I give a shit to about him. Is it criminal to care about my friend?” He snapped at you, and it made you grab your clipboard tighter. You swore he seemed to smirk at seeing you so startled. Like he got off to the idea that he got the captains sweetheart scared.

That he’s the new boss.

“Never said that. You are the co pilot and new captain. You-“ “Pilot now. As if he’s ever going to steer a ship again. Not even a wheelchair with those stumps.” He snorted, as you wanted to smack him across the face.

“Yes….As the new Pilot and Captain I would figure you would be swamped in work. Like finding a way for us to contact help. Kinda the biggest priority after Curly. Anya and I are busy with him. You, Daisuke, and Swansea can handle the rest.”

You noticed how he seemed to roll his eyes about Anya. As if he couldn’t care less about the woman. Made you curious on what kind of beef he would have with her. She’s Anya! Who hated her?

“Yeah. Guess you are right there.” He muttered, as if it was never on his mind. Never an option that they could escape. Oh how you were getting chills.

“Keep on trucken then. Take care of our Captain Cripple. His ass needs all the help his stumpy limbs can get.” He would give him a once over, before looking at you. You made sure to keep your eyes to the clipboard instead. All you did was nod in acknowledgment, before he left.

“What are we going to do, Curly?” You sighed, as you would just lay next to him in defeat. What can you do? You had no idea. Curly was always such a good captain. Made you regret never paying more attention to how he worked the cock pit. Maybe if you did you could be more useful.

As you were full of worry and regret, Curly would weakly try and turn his head. Naked teeth were against his cheek. A attempt to kiss your cheek the best he could.

You smiled at the gesture, and made sure to be careful with snuggling your face into his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, and you got me. We can do this. I know it.” You reassured you both, as you closed your eyes. There to wait until his pain medication kicked in, so he could sleep.

As you relaxed, you couldn’t help but swear something was strange about his breathing.

It was like….He was saying words.

You would focus as hard as you could on your ears, as he would drift in and out of his buzzed state. Fighting to stay awake, but sleep coming for him.

“A….a…n…ya…..Kn….ows……”

[cowboybeepboop]

Wild ride

"Damn, Y/N," he murmured, running his hand through your mildly tangled hair. "You're something else."

You smile, feeling utterly sated and content. "And don't you forget it, cowboy," you reply, planting a lazy kiss onto his bare chest.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! Reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 5206

Summary: Tyler comforts you through a panic attack after a storm. He then rescues you from your fight with Javi. You take a drive to a hotel and then things get very heated.

a/n: this is entirely a reader insert to the movie bc I thought it would fit so perfectly. Also this is the longest oneshot I’ve ever wrote lmao 😭 Hopefully you enjoy!

When you moved to New York it wasn’t just to get away from the place where your friends all died. It was because you couldn’t live there without feeling guilt about being the reason everyone was out there to begin with. The shame and guilt was burning you, inside and out. All for what? What did it get you? Nothing. If you couldn’t tame a tornado you were going to do everything in your power to help people prepare and get out before it was too late. So when Javi came to you asking for help with storm par, you wanted to tell him no. You wanted to say that there was no way you could ever possibly go back not after what you did.

But when he was explaining how they would be making a perfect 3D scan of the tornado and how it can be used to help save lives, you knew you had to help. He was right. You could get him close enough to the tornado in order to set up the portable units.

As time passes you find yourself more intrigued by the self proclaimed “Tornado Wrangler”, whatever that’s supposed to mean. At the same time though, he’s frustrating. Like all he cares about is chasing the storm and making money instead of realizing how much damage these things cause.

“Javi, we have to help.” You say sternly as he keeps talking about the stupid sensor. “Javi! It’s a small town, they’re going to need all the help they can get, we need to help.” He sighs.

“Alright, alright. I’ll look for it later, okay?” You press a hand to his arm gently. “You made a good call. They really do need our help.” Javi pulls off to the side of the road, taking the keys out. You quickly leave the truck and go off to help.

We worked through the afternoon, finding lost heirlooms, important documents, and small mementos that people had thought were lost forever. Each time, their faces would light up with relief, and I’d feel a small sense of satisfaction, knowing I could make a difference.

The sun had broken through the clouds, casting long shadows over the town. The cleanup was far from over, but the worst was behind us. People were starting to talk again, making plans to rebuild. There was a sense of hope in the air, fragile but growing stronger with each passing minute.

You’re watching Javi and Scott interacting with an old guy and someone who lost their bar. Your eyebrows furrow as they offer him a card. “Didn’t know storm par was in the business of helping people,” you hear the familiar cowboy’s voice ringing through the air.

”Well, from what I see they’re trying to make a difference.” You turn to look at Tyler, wrapping your arms around your upper body.

”That’s one way of putting it,” he narrows his eyes while looking behind you at Javi.

“What?” you clench your jaw.

“Do you even know who you’re chasing for?”, his voice raises slightly. ”How much more do these people got to lose before y’all are done making a difference?” His face tightens as he grinds his teeth slightly.

”Sorry, says the guy setting up shop selling t-shirts and mugs after a storm’s hit.” You turn around before he can answer. Pulling the keys Javi gave you out of your pocket. Right as you’re reaching for the door, Lily yells your name.

”Hey, take some food,” she hands you a brown takeout box and a water bottle.

”Oh, I don’t have any cash on me,” you give a half smile.

”It’s okay, that’s why we're always selling shirts and mugs, so we can help give people food.” You shake your head as your eyes widen slightly.

”Then you should keep it, in case you run out.” She hands you the water bottle.

“At least take the water, stay hydrated.” You nod and tell her to stay safe.

Once you get back to the motel you quickly take a shower. Sitting down on the bed with your laptop you look up “Marshall Riggs” you bite down on your cheek, your eyes closing after you read up on him. Pinching your nose bridge you let out a sigh, closing the device.

There’s a knock at the door, you get up slowly and open it. “Some of Javi’s crew said you were staying down by the rodeo.” You don’t say anything in return so he offers you a small pizza box. “Thought you might be hungry,” you take it and shut the door in his face.

You reopen the door, “Thank you, Tyler.” He smiles sweetly.

“How are you doin’, after all that?” Your head nods softly. “How about I show you something nice, city girl.” He offers you his arm.

”And what’s that?” Stepping out of your room you close and lock the door before taking his arm. He doesn’t reply but instead leads you to the stadium at the rodeo. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden light over the dusty rodeo grounds. The air buzzed with excitement and the scent of grilled food, mingling with the earthy smell of the arena. Families filled the bleachers, kids waving flags and clutching cotton candy, while seasoned rodeo-goers leaned against the rails, hats tipped low, eyes sharp with anticipation.

As the night wore on, the rodeo continued—steer wrestling, bronc riding, and more, each event bringing its own excitement and challenges. The crowd cheered, laughed, and gasped, caught up in the spectacle. In the arena, cowboys were competing in the team roping event. Dust kicked up as the horses thundered forward, riders expertly casting their lassos around the horns of the steers. The crowd roared with approval when a duo managed to secure a flawless catch, the announcer’s voice booming in congratulations.

“So tell me about yourself city girl,” Tyler’s voice is low and gentle.

“You know you keep calling me that,” you turn to him, “ but this isn’t my first rodeo, I grew up here in Oklahoma.” Turning back to the events in front of you.

“Would you look at that, I finally learned something about you.” His lips curve up as he admires your side profile.

Back behind the scenes, in the holding pens, a few of the seasoned ranch hands started to glance nervously at the sky. They could see it now—a line of dark, swirling clouds on the horizon, moving faster than seemed natural. A wind had picked up, too, sharper and colder than it had been just minutes ago. But the rodeo continued, the excitement and noise drowning out any sense of unease.

A leaf falls onto your head, you reach your hand up into the air as you watch the leaves fall around you. “Tyler, the air feels heavy, this isn’t right.”

In the ring, the next event was starting: the barrel racing. A young girl was about to make her run when a sharp crack of thunder boomed overhead, so loud it momentarily drowned out the announcer. The crowd murmured, looking up at the sky as the first raindrops began to fall. But as she rounded the first barrel, the wind hit, strong and fierce, whipping dust and debris across the arena. The rain intensified, turning into a heavy downpour that sent people in the stands scrambling for cover. The announcer tried to keep up the energy, but his voice was lost in the wind. In the distance, a low, ominous rumble filled the air—not thunder this time, but something far more menacing.

There's barely time to react before the rodeo’s emergency siren began to wail, a long, shrill warning that sent a chill down everyone’s spine. People were running, some heading for their cars, others diving for the nearest ditch or sturdy structure. The craze of people began pushing and trampling one another, Tyler quickly grabs a woman who fell. He helps her up to her feet and guides you toward the hotel you’re staying at.

“There! Let’s check for a basement,” you nod as you both run inside. There’s a couple arguing with the clerk, you’re checking around for a doorway that might lead to a basement. Tyler tries to ask the man working the front desk but to no avail. “Outside, there’s an empty pool.” You yell to Tyler, “we can try there” he nods and you begin leading the young mother and daughter out the door, Owen’s and the man follow close behind. Once you get the mother and girl down you jump in. Directing them toward the open piping. “Hold on there, cover her head.”

You grasp onto the pipes holding on tight as you feel Tyler’s chest pressing against your back. He keeps his hands tight around the bars, he keeps himself tight against you making sure you don’t move.

“You’re gonna be okay, keep holding on. I’ve got you. I’ve got you” he’s whispering into your ear. You tightly squeeze your eyes shut feeling as though you’re being transported back to the day when you lost everything.

It started with a flutter in your chest, like the faint rustling of wings. You tried to ignore it, chalking it up to nerves, but the flutter didn’t go away. Instead, it grew stronger, spreading through your body like wildfire. Your breathing quickened, shallow and rapid, each breath feeling like it wasn’t enough, like there wasn’t enough air.

It started with trembling hands, and then your whole body followed, shaking uncontrollably. Feeling lightheaded, as if the ground beneath you had suddenly disappeared, leaving you suspended in a void. My chest tightened, squeezing tighter and tighter, making it even harder to breathe.

As quickly as the storm had begun, it passed over. Tyler wraps his arms around you. “Y/N? Is everything okay?” Your body continues to shake as you can’t seem to breathe. “It’s okay, just follow my breathing,” he turns you around so your face is in his chest.

”Deep breaths, in and out,” Tyler gives gentle directions as he rubs his palms over your arms.

”I think I’m okay now..” your voice is soft and hoarse as you choke the words out. His cold, rough hand gently brushes the hair from your face.

“You look like you’ve been through hell tonight.” He says, while helping you out of the pool. You stifle a small laugh in response. Boone and the rest of his crew come up to the pair of you, asking if you’re both alright.

“Y/N, baby. Are you okay?” Javi appears behind you, his hands gently pressing into your hips as he pulls you into a tight hug.

Tyler feels a pang of jealousy as he watches Javi slide his hands lovingly around your hips and pull you into the hug. He tries to shake the feeling, reminding himself that it’s not his place to care. Still, he can’t help but feel a sense of protectiveness wash over him.

“I came as soon as I heard,” his eyes filled with worry as you looked up at him. “Where did you hide out? The pool?” You just nod in response, finding comfort in his arms. Javi keeps repeatedly asking if you’re okay, running his fingers through your hair and resting one hand on your waist.

“Yes, I’m okay. It’s okay,” you pull away from him, giving a soft smile. “I was with Tyler the whole time, he made sure I was okay.” He nods but his eyes flicker behind you.

“Javi, your little girlfriend is fine, now let's get to work.” Scott says loudly, catching the attention of Tyler and Lily. “Apparently this place was family owned so I’m gonna start working on numbers. Riggs is gonna want those first thing.” His voice and face are both emotionless and cold, sending a slight shiver down your spine.

“Wait wait,” you hold onto his arm. “What exactly is Riggs getting out of all your data collection?”

“What’s the matter?” He scratches his neck and awkward expression flashing over his features.

“Is profiting off of people’s tragedy part of your business plan? Why are you doing this?” You pull away from his body.

“Riggs is offering these people a way to move on with their lives.” He takes a step back from you, his voice raising slightly.

“Swooping in and taking advantage of people, who have just lost everything” you take a deep breath to steady your shaky voice “You have no idea what that’s like”

“I don’t know what that’s like?” His fist clenches “How about losing three of my best friends while you were trying to land a big fat grant for your science project?”

Your eyes fill with fresh tears as you look up at him, lip quivering. “Take your keys, I’m done.” You toss them at his feet walking off as fast as you can. Finding yourself drawn to Tyler and his wrangler team.

Tyler witnessed the whole exchange, and his protective instinct flares up again. He watches you stomp away from Javi, a mixture of anger and concern etched on his face. He notices the tears in your eyes and the wobble in your lip. He steps forward and places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

“Can you just take me somewhere please?” Your voice trembles while Javi yells after you. Asking you not to leave like this.

Tyler shoots a warning glare over his shoulder at Javi before turning back to you. “Of course, darling. Anywhere you want to go.” Owen’s voice is soft and soothing, a stark contrast to his rough exterior.

He gently takes your elbow, steering you away from Javi, and his crew. Tyler leads you over to his Truck in the parking lot where the motel once was, his hand still on your elbow. Tyler opens the passenger door and guides you onto the seat, shutting the door before making his way around to the driver's side.

A sigh escapes your lips as you relax into the seat. You softly massage your nose bridge keeping your eyes squeezed shut as a tear escapes one of your eyes.

Tyler watches you silently as you try to regain your composure. He can sense the pain and hurt radiating off of you, and he wishes he could take it all away. After a few moments, he breaks the silence. “Hey, look at me for a second.” He puts his hand on your knee rubbing small circles into your skin.

You open up your eyes, turning to look at him. Your lip still quivering slightly. Tyler’s heart aches as he looks into your tearful eyes. He reaches out and gently wipes the tear away with his thumb, his rough hands surprisingly tender against your face.

“Hey, you don’t need to worry about anything right now. You’re gonna stay with me tonight, okay?” His hand travels down your cheek as he leans over and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Before he starts the car he reaches into the backseat pulling out one of his hats, putting it on with his signature smile.

“You know, you deserve way better than that,” he turns the keys in the ignition. “You can do way better than him anyway.” You giggle while brushing your teary eyes.

“Do you think Javi and I are a couple?” Your once sorrow filled eyes light up with your laugh. A small smile tugs at the corner of Tyler's mouth as he watches you laugh. The sight of your smile warms his heart, and the pang of jealousy eases a bit.

“I mean, he seemed pretty possessive of you back there. And the way he was touchin’ up on you…” he lets his voice trail off, his jaw clenching slightly at the memory.

“Don’t tell me that makes you jealous,” a small smirk decorates your lips. You lean closer to his side, turning your body to further face him.

Tyler’s breath hitches as you lean closer to him, a wave of electricity coursing through his veins. He tries to keep his cool, but the hint of possessiveness flickers in his eyes once again.

“Jealous? Me?” he scoffs, trying to convince himself more than you.

Your eyes light up “Oh you’re totally jealous,” you brush your fingers over the skin on his arms, moving your hand to meet his.

A shiver runs down Tyler’s spine as your fingers travel along his skin, his heartbeat quickening at your touch. He tries to maintain a cool demeanor, but the flutter in his chest gives him away.

“Jealous? Of that jackass?”, his voice a little rougher this time. He looks down at your hand in his, noticing how small and delicate it looks against his own, rough and calloused hands. He swallows hard, fighting the urge to interlace his fingers with yours.

“Is that so?” You interlock your fingers with his as you lean over to kiss his temple. “It’s okay to be jealous, just tell me you don’t like seeing other men touching me,” you whisper into his ear, your voice filled with amusement.

Tyler takes a sharp breath as you interlace your fingers with his, his hand clamping tight around yours. “It does make me jealous,” he admits, his voice a gravelly whisper. His free hand squeezes the steering wheel, the muscles in his arm flexing tightly. “Alright, I don’t like seeing other men touchin’ you.” He brushes his thumb over the top of your hand.

A blush quickly rises up your face as you squeeze his hand firmly. Resting your head against his shoulder you bite down on the inside of your cheek. “Are we almost to a hotel?” Your heart races as you feel the muscles in his arm flexing.

Tyler glances out the window at the passing scenery, trying to distract himself from the feeling of you resting against his shoulder. He clears his throat before speaking, his voice still low and rough.

“We’re almost there. Just a few more minutes.” He rubs his thumb over your knuckles, the gentle movement betraying the tension in his body. He can’t help but steal a glance down at you, taking in your blushing face and the way you bite down on your lip. He fights the urge to pull you into his lap and press his lips against yours.

Using your free hand you run your fingers over his thigh, letting your mind wander as you think about your plans for the night. Trailing your hand closer and closer to his hips teasingly.

Tyler’s breath hitches as you run your fingers along his thigh, his body tense as you trail your hand closer to his hips. His mind starts racing with impure thoughts, visions of you pinned beneath him, your skin against his. He swallows hard, his muscles tensing further as he tries to control himself.

“You’re playin’ a dangerous game, you know that?” his voice low and rough, almost coming out as a growl.

“Yeah?” You run your fingers over his golden belt buckle, “I like dangerous games,” your tongue poking out as you lick your bottom lip.

Tyler swallows hard when you touch his golden belt buckle, his body shuddering under your touch. He shifts in his seat, trying to hide the effect you’re having on him while also struggling to keep his eyes on the road.

“Oh yeah? How dangerous are you willing to go?” he asks, his voice thick with desire. He glances down at your tongue on your lip, his eyes darkening as he imagines what it would feel like against his skin.

“That depends, love,” you press soft kisses into his neck, moving your hand from his, resting it on his chest. “How far are you gonna wanna go?” Your eyes flicker to the hotel sign as the truck pulls into the parking lot.

Tyler lets out a shaky breath as you pepper kisses along his neck, his heart stuttering at the feeling of your lips on his skin. He places a hand over yours on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart thundering beneath your touch.

“Damn, darlin’, you’re really testing my limits right now.” he manages to say, his voice a growl. “But if it were up to me I’d go as far as you’d let me.”

He looks out the window as the truck pulls into the hotel parking lot, his mind racing with all the possibilities that the night holds. He leaps out of the truck running to your side to open the door for you.

“Well, you better hurry up and find us a room then,” you shut the door behind you. You pull the hat from his head, placing it on yours.

Tyler watches you stride ahead of him, his eyes drinking in the sight of his hat sitting on your head. He adjusts his jeans, trying to hide the stiffness growing in his groin as he follows you up to the hotel check-in desk.

“You’re a damn tease, you know that?” he mutters to you as he gets the room keys from the attendant. You flash him an innocent smile as you step into the elevator.

“But you’re too cute when you’re flustered.” Looking up at him you press both hands against his well-built abs. You slip your thigh between his legs as he reaches for the buttons on the elevator, pressing into his groin.

Tyler’s breath hitches at the feel of your hands on his stomach, his muscles flexing under your touch. His heart nearly pounds out of his chest as your thigh brushes against his stiffness, a guttural groan escaping his lips at the contact.

“Jesus, darlin'...you’re gonna be the death of me.” he pants, the words thick with lust. He struggles with the elevator buttons, his hands fumbling as his mind becomes increasingly clouded with need.

You stand up on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear “That’s the plan,”. You move one hand up to his jaw, pulling his face to yours. “Are you gonna kiss me yet?” You mumble.

Tyler swallows hard as you tease his ear with your hot breath, his body growing taut with desire. He looks down at your face, his gaze fixated on your lips as you speak. The words send a shiver down his spine, his restraint slipping by the second.

“You want me to kiss you, darlin’?” his lips hover just above your own. He runs a thumb across your lower lip, his eyes darkened by lust.

“Tyler, I want you to do much more than just kiss me.” Your arms wrap around his neck as you press your chest against his. “Please,” you breathe out. The elevator dings as you get to the floor of your room.

Tyler’s control snaps at your words, a low growl escaping his lips as you press against him. He grabs your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you close, the pleading tone of your voice nearly undoing him.

“Don’t gotta ask me twice, darlin’” He mutters, his voice low and gravelly. He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you out of the elevator and towards your room. You giggle into his ear while he unlocks the door.

Tyler grins at the sound of your giggles, his chest rumbling with a satisfied chuckle. He kicks the hotel door open, his eyes locking on the queen-sized bed in the center of the room. He sets you down on the edge of the bed, towering over you as he places his hands on your thighs. You both kick your shoes off really quickly before getting back to it.

Your hand goes to the back of his neck as you pull his face to yours. You kiss him with hunger. Your free hand sliding up his shirt as you feel his smooth abs.

Tyler groans deep in his throat as you pull him towards you, his body responding instantly to your touch. He devours your lips with a primal need, his tongue exploring your mouth as he presses his body up against yours. His muscles twitch under your hand, fire spreading through his veins as you glide your fingers across his abs.

“Goddamn it, Y/N… you're makin' me crazy.” he gasps, his voice thick with desire. He kisses you again, his hands roaming up your thighs, tracing the curves of your body with rough yet tender caresses.

Your hands trail down his abdomen, landing on his belt buckle once again. Your fingers fumble with his belt before successfully pulling it out. Breaking the kiss you quickly remove your shirt, throwing it to the corner of the room.

“Mm Ty…” sucking on your bottom lip as you lean back on your hands while looking up at him seductively.

Tyler sucks in a sharp breath, his body tensing under your touch. Once you remove your shirt, revealing the soft skin beneath, his gaze trails over your body, his eyes darkened by lust. He watches you lean back on the bed, your eyes locking with his in a sultry gaze.

“Mmm darlin’...” you sit up and pull him closer by the loops on his jeans, his strong legs coming between your own, spreading them apart. Lifting up his shirt you press kisses all over his tanned skin.

He reaches his hand out to touch your exposed skin, his fingers gently tracing your collarbone. “Then why don’t you do something about it baby?” You ask in a low tone.

His hands rest on your waist, pulling you closer as you spread your legs even wider for him. “Oh baby, you don't know what you're gettin' yourself into” he whispers, his voice rumbling with need.

He suddenly grips your hips tightly and flips you onto your back, his body hovering over yours as he pins you against the bed. Reaching up you pull his shirt over his head almost moaning at the sight of his toned body.

He smirks as he watches your eyes rake over him, his ego growing at your reaction. “You like what you see, Y/N?” He asks, his voice rough with desire as he looks down at you, his body pressing against yours.

“Most definitely,” you capture his lips in a deep kiss, maneuvering to put him on his back, straddling his hips. Moving back you unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down. Pulling the pants off his hips you smile to yourself as you see how worked up you got him. Your hand slips into his boxers wrapping around his length.

He lets out a guttural moan, body arching into yours at the contact. “Oh God, baby…” he gasps, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a string of curses. Tyler's sharp intake of breath was your reward, and you relish in the feeling of power it gives you. He grips the bed sheets tightly as you pull his dick out, wrapping your lips around the tip.

“Fuck,” he moans as you pull off and sit back on the bed, making sure your teasing antics continue. All you really want is for Tyler to take complete control and you know exactly how to make him. With slow, purposeful movements, you remove your bra, freeing your breasts and running gentle hands over your own body, nipples hardening under your touch. Then you sit back, pulling your panties off, giving him a show.

Tyler's breathing quickens, his desire palpable. "Damn it, Y/N, you know what I want," he said, his voice thick with need. "Stop teasing and give it to me."

A slow, seductive smile spreads across your face. "I'm not teasing, Tyler," you say, reaching for his hand and placing it on your thigh. "I'm just getting started." Guiding his hand, you slowly part your legs, exposing your wet, eager pussy to his touch. Tyler's fingers delve between the folds, his touch both gentle and demanding. You moan, eyebrows furrowing as you squeeze your eyes shut, your head falling back while you relish in the sensation.

"That's it," you whisper, eyes fluttering shut as your eyebrows furrow with pleasure. "Touch me, Tyler. Make me cum." Your voice comes out in a gentle beg.

Tyler's other hand joins the first, exploring your most intimate places, his thumbs circling your clit as he plunged his fingers into the tight hole. Your hips buck as you begin riding his hands with waves of pleasure crashing over you.

"Yes, just like that," you pant, your body trembling. "Oh, God, Tyler, don't stop. I'm so close."

Tyler quickens his pace, his eyes never leaving yours as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. "Cum for me, Y/N," he commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let me feel you fall apart."

With a sharp cry, you climax, your body shaking uncontrollably as pleasure rips through your entire body. Tyler continues working his magic, drawing out your orgasm and prolonging the exquisite sensation.

Finally, as the waves of pleasure subside, you collapse into the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch a breath. Tyler hovers over your frame, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of triumph and desire.

"That," he said, his voice raw, "was just the beginning. Especially after all of that teasing you did,” his voice low and sultry. Tyler's lips curve into a devilish smile as he positions himself between your trembling legs. In one smooth thrust, he enters you, filling you completely. Moaning at the stretch, your body welcomes the invasion.

Tyler begin to move, his hips driving into you with a rhythmic pace. Meeting his thrusts, your nails digging into his back as you urge him on. The bed creaks in time with their passionate dance, the sound of your guys’s passionate gasps and moans filling the room.

"Harder, Tyler," you moan, your body craving much more. "Fuck me harder."

Tyler obliges, his movements becoming more urgent as he plunges into you again and again. The room echos with the sounds of your carnal coupling, the air heavy with the scent of sex.

Your body coils tight once more, climbing towards another orgasm. "I'm gonna cum again," you cry out, voice hoarse. "Don't stop, Tyler, please don't stop."

Tyler grunts his response, his own orgasm building. He reaches between their bodies, his fingers finding your slightly swollen clit and rubbing it in circles. It was all the stimulation you needed, and with a shout of release, you shatter into pieces, juices flooding around Tyler's hard cock.

Feeling you contracting around him, Tyler finally let go, thrusting deeply into you. Moaning into your ear as he spilled his seed, filling you with his warmth. You both cling to each other, breathing coming in ragged gasps as the two of you ride out the waves of your shared ecstasy. Collapsing onto the bed, bodies still joined, Tyler rolls onto his back, bringing your exhausted body with him so laying sprawled on top of him.

"Damn, Y/N," he murmured, running his hand through your mildly tangled hair. "You're something else."

You smile, feeling utterly sated and content. "And don't you forget it, cowboy," you reply, planting a lazy kiss onto his bare chest.

a/n (again): sorry just wanted to say that I’m working on making some more twisters smut, but i also have top gun maverick smut if y’all wanna check that out 😝🙏

[atlabeth]

dance until we're bones

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader

summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.

a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier

wc: 17.2k

warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one

Hotch can barely stay awake. 

He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point. 

It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel. 

He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there. 

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always. 

Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour. 

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.” 

“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?” 

“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”

“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.” 

Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”

“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”

“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.” 

“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says. 

Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”

“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes. 

“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says. 

“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.” 

“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”

“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs. 

JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.” 

Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.” 

-

The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file. 

The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene. 

It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house. 

They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt. 

It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control. 

All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.  

Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics. 

They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it. 

They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.

Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.  

Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything. 

First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect. 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.” 

“What has he been charged for?” 

“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail a little less than a year ago, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”

“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”

“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”

Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”

“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs. 

They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind. 

The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive. 

“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.” 

“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh. 

Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising. 

You.

Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock. 

You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford. 

“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.

He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.” 

Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?” 

Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”

“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?” 

Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.

“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says. 

You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…” 

You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house. 

It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all. 

Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub. 

“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.” 

“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?” 

He nods. “I had a change of heart.” 

You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.” 

Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”

You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.” 

Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Louis area.” 

“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him. 

“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”

“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”

“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”

And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things: 

Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be. 

Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school. 

“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.

“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts. 

“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”

“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says. 

You glower at him, but you stay silent. 

“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.” 

“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”

“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”

He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.” 

“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?” 

You nod. “He lives with me.” 

He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away. 

“Why is that?” Hotch asks. 

You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too. 

“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”  

“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going. 

“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.” 

“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.” 

“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?” 

Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you. 

“Really?” 

He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him. 

He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her. 

And he didn’t even know when she died. 

You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad. 

“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went last year.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says. 

You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb. 

“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.

“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.” 

Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.” 

His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even. 

“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.” 

Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.” 

“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.

“No.” 

“Do you want them to?” 

“…No.” 

You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.” 

You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”

“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”

You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.” 

Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you. 

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.” 

“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says. 

You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.” 

Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.” 

She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door. 

Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again. 

“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up. 

“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?” 

“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.” 

“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.” 

“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.

“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”

Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”

“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”

Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret. 

“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”

Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”

“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”

“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.” 

Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case— 

He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.  

You’ve changed a lot. So has he. 

And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him. 

That’s the only thing that should be on his mind. 

-

“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.” 

“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”

“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”

“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!” 

Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.” 

“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts. 

They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”

You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief. 

“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”

You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe. 

“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused. 

“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”

“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss. 

“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”

Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”

“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”

“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”

“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”

“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”

“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”

He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.” 

“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.” 

“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses. 

You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once. 

“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”

“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”

“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck. 

“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”

“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”

You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve got that right.”

He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on. 

“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”

“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”

“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity. 

“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”

Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs. 

Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world. 

“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”

“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.

“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”

“Looks like it.”

You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air. 

(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)

- 

You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger. 

Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it. 

You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.  

They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing. 

All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people. 

And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong. 

You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you. 

Because god— what are the odds? 

What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother? 

It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years. 

It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time. 

If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”

“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you. 

“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.” 

“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties. 

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. 

“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?” 

“Not one for small talk,” you remark. 

“I never have been.” 

“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.” 

You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now. 

You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face. 

“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”

“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.” 

“Rent or own?”

“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”

“What inspired the move?”

“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.” 

“And home is?” 

“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.” 

“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says. 

“Sources can lie.” 

Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.” 

He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up. 

You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had. 

You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened. 

“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”   

“None of those sound like questions,” you say. 

“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly. 

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

“You don’t know,” he repeats. 

“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I stay out of his business.”

“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it?”

“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.” 

Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?” 

“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.” 

“You didn’t tell him—” 

“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?” 

He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse. 

“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.” 

“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.” 

“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.” 

“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?” 

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.” 

“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply. 

Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly. 

“And you’re wrong, by the way.” 

“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken. 

“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.” 

And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you. 

“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.” 

“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.” 

“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”

“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. You know he already knows it, but it still seems to have some effect on him. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.” 

“…I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least. 

“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.” 

Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.” 

You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.” 

“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.” 

You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron. 

“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“You know th—” 

Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.” 

The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.” 

He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file. 

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”

You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking. 

“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.” 

“The profile—” 

“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.” 

“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.” 

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly. 

He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this. 

For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right. 

You have to be right. 

The room feels even colder. 

Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do. 

You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him. 

-

Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room. 

“She does not like you.” 

“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie. 

“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.” 

“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands. 

Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor. 

“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.” 

“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”

“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.” 

“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him. 

And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him. 

He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things. 

“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”

Morgan frowns. “Explain.”

“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”

“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”

“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.” 

“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again. 

“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.” 

“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.” 

“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”

“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.” 

Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation. 

“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.” 

They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego. 

“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.” 

Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside. 

He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”

You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch… 

Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore. 

Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you. 

“They sent a new one in,” you say. 

“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”

You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual. 

“I can imagine.”

He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off. 

“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.” 

“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.

He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation. 

The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time. 

Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks. 

When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”

He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”

“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks. 

“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says. 

She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”

Hotch isn’t sure yet. 

But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong. 

-

Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier. 

It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once. 

You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron. 

You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s chest as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard. 

You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you. 

It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round. 

You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed. 

Aaron says your name, and you hum. 

“Are you listening?” he asks. 

“Of course,” you say. 

“Your eyes are closed.” 

“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?” 

You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly. 

“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully. 

Your eyes open and you frown. 

You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.

It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate. 

“Yeah? What’d she want?”

“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”

You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.

“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”

“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.” 

“…Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?” 

He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”

“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?” 

“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron. 

You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction. 

But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up. 

“Go for it,” you finally say. 

He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?” 

“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.” 

You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.” 

He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder. 

“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything. 

You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand. 

Sometimes you need reminders. 

“I love you too.” 

-

“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.” 

“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs. 

Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third. 

No one expected this to happen so soon. 

The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt. 

Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work. 

An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation. 

Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved. 

He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it. 

Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press. 

Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount. 

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.” 

He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”

“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.” 

Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.” 

“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on. 

“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.” 

-

The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight. 

JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city. 

The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information. 

“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.” 

“What are they?” Hotch asks. 

“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says. 

“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks. 

“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.” 

“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”

“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.” 

Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.” 

“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests. 

Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.” 

“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?” 

“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.” 

“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully. 

Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.” 

“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.  

“And?” Hotch asks. 

“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.” 

Hotch frowns. You? 

“You’re sure?” he asks. 

“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.” 

“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again. 

“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.” 

“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.” 

“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up. 

“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.” 

“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.” 

Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.” 

Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died a year ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail nine months ago after a six year stint.” 

“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.” 

“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.” 

“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.” 

“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.” 

“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.” 

“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.” 

“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says. 

“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”

“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods. 

Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him. 

“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says. 

“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks. 

“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.” 

And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him. 

“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”

“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him. 

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?” 

“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.” 

“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.  

“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?” 

He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—” 

“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.” 

“What would I do without you?” he asks. 

“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.” 

“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up. 

Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him. 

Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze. 

“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind. 

“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.

“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”  

And he does. 

-

You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear. 

Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale. 

A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame. 

Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner. 

It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff. 

Of course you have to deal with this now. 

Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down. 

“You’re already packed.” 

You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.” 

“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning. 

“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask. 

His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says. 

“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.  

“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks. 

“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?” 

His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.” 

“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.” 

Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit. 

“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”  

“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him. 

“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?” 

“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head. 

You take the box from him and smile thinly. 

“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”

-

You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open. 

You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.

“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, “I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”

His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.” 

“They haven’t been back, have they?” 

You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail. 

Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”

“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests. 

“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.” 

He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops. 

“Did you go to class today?”

“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff. 

“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”

“Yes,” he mocks. “I went to class.”

“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.” 

His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”

You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”

“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit. 

“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.” 

“I agree with you,” he says. 

“That’s it,” you muse. 

Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up. 

“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.” 

“…Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.” 

“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?” 

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”

“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”

“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.” 

You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to. 

“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”

“I think? I was in jail, so.” 

You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.” 

“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says. 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“Then what are you saying?” 

“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”

He frowns. “What’d you say?”

“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.” 

“What have they said about me?” he asks. 

“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…” 

You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.” 

You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.” 

“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.” 

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.” 

“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.” 

You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home. 

“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”

Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up. 

“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”

Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.” 

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before. 

You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard. 

Then, there’s nothing. 

-

Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is. 

The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at. 

It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims. 

If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”

“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters. 

“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”

“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?

You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that. 

It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him. 

It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.  

Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that. 

Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”

“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?” 

“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.” 

“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.” 

“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”

Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching. 

“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”

“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”

“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”

“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up. 

“What?”

“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I… I know how important this is to you.”

Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”

“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”

Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night. 

And now… 

Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not. 

“Thank you, Garcia.”

“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?” 

For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it. 

“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.” 

“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.” 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly. 

Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him. 

“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.” 

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words. 

-

It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why. 

You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes. 

Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs. 

Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?

Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—

“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops. 

For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze. 

“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.” 

“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.” 

Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.

You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body. 

You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life. 

And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.” 

He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.” 

“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?” 

“…You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.” 

“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.” 

“Family’s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.” 

“I’ve always believed in you,” you say. 

He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.” 

“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.” 

You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises. 

“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”

You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother was dead, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided. 

“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?” 

“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!” 

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.” 

“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”

“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.” 

All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to. 

Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly. 

When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget. 

Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out. 

You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw your way back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here. 

You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now. 

“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.” 

“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.” 

He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.” 

He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.

“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”

Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.” 

“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says. 

“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”

“Put the gun down,” he repeats. 

“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.” 

“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.” 

“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?” 

“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.” 

He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you. 

“Put the gun down,” another agent warns. 

“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”

“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think. 

“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?” 

“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.” 

Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave. 

“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.” 

“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.” 

“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”

“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”

“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?” 

“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.” 

Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.” 

“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.” 

“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.” 

“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.” 

“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”  

“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.” 

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you. 

“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.” 

You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you. 

And then it happens so quickly you barely process it. 

There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground. 

You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you. 

Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him. 

Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force. 

Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead. 

The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake. 

Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”

A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms. 

“I know.”

Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment. 

“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.” 

You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers. 

But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron. 

“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!” 

You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours. 

“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.

He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete. 

“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.” 

And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name. 

It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die. 

-

You wake up in the hospital alone.  

You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you. 

The real surprise is that you wake up at all. 

Lucas is dead. 

He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded. 

You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real. 

You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life. 

You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day. 

Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all. 

You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life. 

And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind. 

He was going to kill you. 

Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU. 

Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner. 

The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him. 

“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you. 

But there’s relief there, too.

He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside. 

“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly. 

Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.” 

“And how long have I been here?” 

“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.” 

You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”

“How bad was it?” you ask. 

Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…” 

“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.” 

He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.  

“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”

“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?” 

Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start. 

“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.” 

“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.” 

“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”

“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.” 

You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!” 

“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.” 

“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—” 

You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same. 

“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper. 

You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life. 

“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.” 

“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues. 

“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”

He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number. 

“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.” 

You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner. 

“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.” 

“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…

Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together. 

“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.” 

“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.” 

“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit. 

“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.” 

“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.” 

Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.” 

Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.

“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out. 

“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume. 

“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.

Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.  

“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.” 

Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down. 

“Okay.” 

And he stays. 

This time, he stays.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I really really love your writing and it makes me want to be better at my own writing I really admire your work in writing like so much

But I was just wondering if there's going to be another part to Why ten

I want to watch Clockwork cut years off of Damien's life with a stare

Or the one where Danny and Bruce were dating a long time ago and Danny was the one that got away for Bruce

Damian forced himself to return to Mr. Clockwork's house to expand on his previous invitation. It had been at a time when Daniel had been out of the house running some errands for Mr.Clockwork, so he was left standing in front of the most intimating man he had ever encountered, asking him to join Damian's family at dinner as an apology for the way his father behaved.

Mr. Clockwork agreed after an hour of soul-stealing staring and Damian fumbling for an explanation. He returned home with confirmation that he had completed his mission.

Father was most pleased, scheduling the dinner for Saturday night, while Damian wondered why not Friday night, as Daniel had agreed to that day at seven. His father opened his mouth, but Alfred cut in with a sharp "You can not possibly cancel on the young man now. He expects that dinner," and the conversation ended.

"You look great!" Jon says with a cheerful thumbs up from where he lies on Damian's bed. His friend had flown over two hours ago to help Damian prepare for his dinner with Daniel. He vetoed many of Damian's best formal wear, claiming that the outfit he needed was much more casual.

This outfit was very similar to the one he picked for his sleepover with Daniel, with its multiple silver jewelry, but it was mainly white instead of black. Jon claimed it made his skin glow and, coupled with the dark blue jeans, made him appear "Classy like he wasn't trying to be hot but was just born that way."

Odd.

"Thank you, " he tells his friend, fixing his hair again. He chose not to spike it up today or slick it back. Brown recommended letting it fall naturally; surprisingly, Drake even helped him style it. He had doubts, but Drake somehow made it look stylishly messy. "I wonder if this is enough for Daniel."

"I'm sure it is! Are you picking him up?"

"I arrange a ride for him to take him to the restaurant. I was going to escort him personally, but Mr. Clockwork warned me about entering his property without permission." Damian shivers. "I did not want to risk his ire."

Jon nods his head as though he knows the horrors of odd guardians. "I remember how I felt meeting Mr. Nakamura. I felt like my stomach was eating itself."

Domain snaps his fingers, pointing at Jon with wild eyes. "That. That was the feeling."

Jon snaps back, eyes sparkling. "Fight on, soldier."

A knock on his door stops Damian from reminding his friend that this was just a dinner with his first school friend. Despite Daniel's unpredictable personality, his friend was not dangerous. Damian was hard-pressed to find anyone in Gotham further away from the cape scene than Daniel.

The other day, Damian had witnessed him be confused by their classmates talking about Rouge insurance their parents had bought. It was almost like Mr. Clockwork didn't have any plans in case his property or workplace were damaged by whatever supervillain of the week went on a rampage.

It's a strange concept since other cities did the same. Damian would even argue that the Supers had more property damage in their fights than the Bats. Clark, alone, tended to take out a whole street with his fast-paced flying.

It was another odd thing about the Fenton-Clockwork household, but it also made Damian more appreciative than Daniel. Damian enjoyed a good battle, but he adored protecting those who could not defend themselves, and being able to use his skills to keep Daniel safe made him feel giggly.

Nothing would ever get him to admit it.

His father opens the door, nodding Jon as the young boy shouts a greeting. "Damian, I expect you home by ten."

"Ten?" Damian parrots, confused by the odd curfew. "I was planning on returning around eleven or so."

Jon winces as Father's face clouds over. The super floats up from the bed, gesturing towards the door. "This looks like a conversation you need to have alone. I'm going to go see if Tim and Dick need a player three for that game they were talking about."

He zips out, not bothering to wait for a reply. Not that he would get one, seeing as father and son were having an intense stare-off, both crossing their arms and unyielding in their determination.

"You will be home by ten. Any later would be dangerous," Father tells him, and Damian scoffs.

"I walked the streets of Gotham far later than that, Father."

"By yourself and as Robin. Not when you're walking around with a civilian boy." Father counters, then the man narrows his eyes "Mr. Clockwork would also be very unhappy if Daniel stayed out too late."

Damian flinched before he straightened his back. "And how would you know what Mr. Clockwork-"

"He texted me," Father flashes his phone screen, showing the conversation he had been having with Daniel's guardian. Mr. Clockwork's messages contain a very short but obvious threat, specifically about Damian treating his nephew right and getting him home early.

Damian deflates in defeat. The young teen can only mutter with the wind knocked out of his sails. "I'll have Daniel home by nine-forty and return here by ten."

Father nods, an air of satisfaction surrounding him. "Good."

Damian is close to pointing out that it was Mr. Clockwork he feared letting down just to knock Father off his high horse, but to do so would be admitting that he was scared of the man. It would hurt his pride a little too much to admit that.

____________________________________________________________

Later that evening, Damian waits at the restaurant where the two had agreed to meet. He wanted to take the other boy somewhere more in his wealth range, but Todd had informed him that it would only make Daniel uncomfortable.

Damian was unsure how he could possibly make Daniel feel unwelcome in a five-star establishment, but Todd insisted that anywhere that required formal wear to be seated was not the kind of place to take Daniel to dine.

Alfred had refused to cook for the two despite the fact that the man would be doing so for the following night. Damian had been a bit offended by that until the aged butler had gleefully informed him of the reservation he had gotten for a private room at a well-known Teppanyaki restaurant in the middle of Gotham.

Todd agreed that Alfred's reservation was a perfect location, as it was still classy but not overwhelmingly "rich people shit." Damian didn't understand the difference, but the menu had plenty of vegetarian options, and Daniel was rather fond of the Japanese cruise, so he let it slide.

After dinner, Damian planned to ask Daniel to join him on a walk through the Gotham Planetarium. The last showing of the night was at eight-thirty, which he was sure Daniel would enjoy.

They had to finish their food and make it to the building on time, but hopefully, it would be a smooth process. The show was an hour long, giving Damian plenty of time to escort Daniel home.

He had booked their ride home hours ago, and the driver would wait for them just as the show finished.

It would be better if I did not have that ridiculous curfew, Damian thought bitterly, picking up his water to take a long sip. Honestly, what's the worst that could happen?

"Hi, Dami!" Daniel's voice cuts through the air like a bullet. Damian had heard the door to their private room open, but he had not been prepared for the sight of Daniel Fenton in such appealing attire.

For once, his jeans were new, and he wore a comfortable white button-up with a lovely green checker flannel thrown on top. His hair was styled similarly to Damian's, but on Daniel, it appeared more playful.

Damian had only a few seconds to process what he was seeing before he choked. Why, you may ask? Simple.

The water he had previously been drinking had come rushing out of his nose, leaving a burning sensation in his nostrils. The shock of Daniel being well put together for the first time had ruined him.

If that wasn't bad enough, as Damian hacked and wheezed, Daniel became frantic, patting him on his back and asking if he was alright.

Damian couldn't even play it off, no matter how he tried to assure Daniel he was fine. The employee who had brought his friend to the room rushed forward to wipe away the disgusting tabletop, and Damian wanted to die.

"I'm fine. There's nothing to see here," Damian wheezed as Daniel's warm hand pressed into his back. "Everything is fine!"

Daniel leaned closer, causing Damian to gasp just a little bit more, but primarily due to the very confusing flips his stomach made. "Are you sure, dude?"

"Yes! I-I require the restroom!" Damian blurts, springing from his seat, and sprints out of the room. He isn't running away because Damian Wayne does not flee, so it's a tactical retreat as he races through the regular dining area, hyper-aware of the mess his front shirt must be in.

He almost trips over his feet when he spots Mr.Clockwork among the faces of the crowd that watches him run by. A hiccup builds up in Damian's chest, and he ignores his very obviously poorly disguised family in the corner. Of course, Father's brood would be here.

Could this night not get any worse?

"Dami, wait, it's okay! That can happen to anyone!" Daniel's voice echoes behind him. Damian accidentally slams into the bathroom door, knocking on his back, when he glances behind.

He can hear Brown wince and Richard stand on his feet.

He half wonders if he should remain on the ground before Daniel's laughing face appears in his eyesight. The restaurant's lights make him glow as his friend grins down at him. "Dami, you're a riot. This is the best date I've ever been on, and it just started. Come back to our room, yeah?"

Daniel helps him to his feet, clinging to his arm, and leads a dazed Damian back to the table.

Cain, Brown, and Thomas each raise their drinks at him with proud grins as the boys walk by, Daniel unaware of them. Todd, Drake, and Brown throw him smirks while Richard gives him two thumbs up.

Mr. Clockwork cuts his thumb over his throat, but Damian is barely aware of any of it because one thought races through his mind.

This is a date?! A romatic outing!? A chance for courtship?!

[tangyangie]

karma general dating headcanons!

— first of all.. he definitely teases you. way more than anyone else. like, if him teasing the class was a 10 on the scale, you'd be a 26.

— he likes to poke you. there's no specific reason, you're just so.. pokeable. he likes to see your skin smush beneath his finger as you face slowly gets more annoyed. he will stop eventually, if you ask him to.

— he likes to buy you things. he will get you gifts that you've only mentioned once before, as a general thought. it's honestly baffling how closely he listens to what you say.

— he learns as much as possible about your tastes. you like a certain music artist? he's memorized the discography in one day. if he sees you browsing a site on how to make a certain dish? he learns how to cook it on the way to the grocery store to get the ingredients.

— he gives you massages. he notices how tense you may get, and wants to relieve this pressure. but, if you make any noise at all, he'll tease the shit out of you. be prepared.

— he does your schoolwork for you. if you forgot to do an assignment right before class, he'll write down the answers as fast as he possibly can. although korosensei probably wouldn't get too angry, you'd rather not deal with the speech.

— he loves to kiss you. a lot. he will completely engulf your face with his lips, all leading up to a final kiss on the lips and a tap on your nose. he constantly amuses you with this predictable pattern. -- one time, you decided to dodge the final kiss, and he acted so offended. he got back at you, though. you didn't escape him that time.

— he's a very light sleeper. if you move at all, he's waking up. just getting up to get a glass of water will make him jerk awake like the earth is destroying itself underneath his feet. you apologize every time, but no amount of sleeping aids helps.

— he initiates a lot of pillow fights. you say something with a little too much of a teasing smile, and he'll get you back by smothering you with a fluffy pillow. you laugh from underneath, but he'll only grab more to destroy you (with love) until you surrender.

— he makes fun of the characters in movies. you watch a horror movie, and he'll be yelling at the screen for the character not to go back to the door, how stupid they're being, and how he'd totally be able to survive whatever the phenomenon is.

— he's the least clumsy person you'll ever meet. he could probably carry ten gallons of water in paint buckets all stacked over each other on his head for 3 miles, and there would be absolutely no drop spilled.

— he likes to take you on fun dates. you'll both find an old park with a tire swing, and you'll hang out there every day eating oranges while hanging upside down on the monkey bars.

— he's a drama queen. he'll fall backwards theatrically with the back of his hand on his forehead and gracefully land on the grass. all of this because you refused to skip class with him.

— he's extremely protective. i don't think i need to mention this, but if he hears that anyone even laid a finger on you, he'll go pay them a friendly visit. they won't be coming to school for at least a week.

— he steals blankets. although it's mostly when he sleeps, he does it when he's awake, too. you're freezing your ass off? not his problem. (part of him wants you to cuddle up to him and beg him to wrap his arm around you.)

notes: this was so much fun to make!! i need to make more headcanons of random people who i'm thinking of atm..

[picklypickle]

- The only one -

a/n: hiii everyone!! this is my first little story, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it, if you want to see more of my writing feel free to send me a request!! Enjoy! ;) words: 1.9k

warnings: tiny bit of swearing, I wrote this with a fem reader, kinda jealous Melissa

When you walk into the staff room in the morning, the first person you notice is your beautiful girlfriend, sitting at her usual table, sipping her coffee with her work wife, Barb, right next to her. At first, she doesn’t notice you, being way too preoccupied by whatever story Barbara is telling. But when she does turn to you, with a frown still on her face from the conversation that was happening prior, her gaze softens and she gives you a soft smile only you can recognize as an “I love you”.

“There she is!” you hear Jacob saying from across the room “Where were you? How come you didn’t get here at the same time as Melissa? Oh no, did you guys fight?” He nervously says as he quickly makes his way over to you.

“Nooo!! No no, I was just running a little bit late so I told Mel to leave without me, thank you for your concern tho!” you laugh.

Everyone at Abbott knew you and Melissa were together, infact, they were the ones who had gotten you two together in the first place, six months ago and they were the biggest fans too. If anything ever happened between you two, your colleagues would probably be more crushed than you and your own girlfriend.

You hear the teacher’s lounge door open and turn around to see who it might be. Suddenly, one of your very close friends and fellow teacher at Abbott, Lauryn, bursts into the room with her usual smile plastered on her face. When she sees you waving, she makes her way over to you.

“Hey girl!! Such a nice day today huh?” she says.

“It is! Oh my god I love your dress!!” you exclaim as you look up and down at her outfit. She is wearing the most beautiful flower patterned dress. You make a mental note to look online for a similar one when you get home tonight.

“Thank you so much!! You know, I bet it would make that perfect ass of yours stand out, you should get one.” She says and proceeds to lick her lips.

You blush out of embarrassment. Did she forget you are with someone? Even worse, that Melissa is literally sitting not even 2 meters from where this very awkward interaction just took place and heard it? You quickly try and look at Jacob, trying to see if he heard the same thing, but unfortunately, he has already left and is talking to Gregory. You quickly glance over at your girlfriend who you can tell very well, has her fists clenched so hard and is fuming right now.

“Uh, thanks!” you try to say as normally as possible, trying to hide the confusion in your face.  “Um anyways, I really have to go, the kids are going to get here soon.” You quickly say and wave goodbye, smiling at her. You rush out of the room, wanting to get away from this whole situation as fast as possible. However, Melissa notices this weird behavior, as she is getting up to come check on you Barb sits her back down. 

“Melissa, you heard what she said, the kids will be getting here soon, she probably just wants to prepare everything.” she says “And besides i'm not done with my story yet, so sit back down.” she adds, while tugging at her sleeve to bring her back down.

When you get to your classroom, you start writing everything you need down on the board, such as the date and the kids schedule that they can rely on during the day. While you’re writing with your favouite purple dry erase marker, your mind starts to wander off. You start to think about how everyone has been telling you for weeks now that Lauryn might be in love with you, but you’ve just been denying it and shrugging it off. But now, you’re starting to wonder if it’s actually true. It’s not like you’re into Lauryn or anything, you have the best girlfriend in the world! Infact, Lauryn’s flirty comments are starting to make you feel uncomfortable, you thought she knew that you were dating Melissa…maybe she forgot?

Before you know it, the bell rings and your little kiddos are running in and hugging you like they normally do every morning. You snap out of your thoughts and start your lesson, you’ll deal with the issue eventually, but for now, all that matters is your students.

★

After lunch was your free period while your students were in gym class. Today, you preferred to avoid everyone and stay in your classroom to do some grading on the most recent test.

Just as you put a sticker on the last copy, you hear a soft knock at the door, you turn arround expecting to see Melissa but you’re met with Lauryn’s grin, holding her cellphone.

“Hey! Am I bothering you?” She asks, peeking into your classroom to see if anyone else is there.

“Nope, I just finished grading these papers.” You reply, gesturing to the stack of documents on the corner of your desk.

“Ahhh alright well, I need to show you this video, it’s so us!” She says excitedly and comes to stand next to where you’re sitting down.

You start to watch the video but quickly realise it’s dedicated to couples… you stop paying attention and focus more on the reflection of the glass of the phone, when you see Lauryn, she’s not.. looking at the video? You try to see what she’s looking at and realize that she is staring directly at your cleavage, practically drooling too. You get red. You get uncomfortable. You start to pray for her to leave or someone to wal-

Someone knocks at the door, again.

“Am I interrupting something?” You look up, recognizing the voice. 

Melissa is standing at the door, hands on her hips.

“Oh hey Melissa!” says Lauryn “You aren’t interrupting anything, I was just showing Y/N this video.” She goes to show Mel the clip.

Your girlfriend clearly also realizes the video is meant for couples and clears her throat, crossing her arms. This makes you look up at her. You can see that she’s jealous, she is part of the group of people that think Lauryn is in love with you and she is also not having it right now.

“Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it!” Says Lauryn, she waves goodbye at the two of you and walks out of your classroom. Clearly she knows that you and Mel are together, so what is this all about?

You and your girlfriend stare at eachother for what feels like forever, until you decide to speak up first.

“Look I d-” You start.

“What the hell was that?” Your girlfriend cuts you off.

“Listen Melissa, I have no idea she just, ugh!” You say, being exhausted from this whole situation “Please don’t be mad, I don’t feel like fighting, I’ll talk to her later.” You finish.

“Hon,I'm not mad, heck if anything I'm jealous!” she says, uncrossing her arms and slowly walking towards you “She’s always making these comments and remarks about your body and undressing you with her eyes! I’m the only one who gets to do that here. And the worst part is, I can tell you hate it, it makes you extremely uncomfortable.” She continues, bending down infront of you and resting her hands on the armrests of your chair. You blush, she knows you perfectly.

“It does.” You say, getting more and more red. You quickly look down at her lips, unknowingly licking your own. The redhead in front of you notices.

“I know it does” she answers, bending her face down to yours, your mouths are inches away from each other “And no, i’ll be the one to do something about it.” 

You smile before kissing her softly, she kisses you back with just as much softness. After a moment, the kiss starts to turn more and more hungry. She places her hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You smile into the kiss. The school bell suddenly rings, signaling that you have to go get your kids from the gym. 

You groan as you pull away from her mouth

“Fuck, I have to go get my kids at the gym! I’m so sorry Mel, I'll talk to you later!” You quickly peck her lips before exiting your class.

Melissa stays there for a moment, smiling to herself, thinking about how much she loves you. 

★

It’s the end of the day, you students have alrea dy gone home and all that’s left to do is go down to the teacher’s lounge to collect your things that you had left there. 

When you get there, you’re greeted by all your friends who are also gathering their things.

“Hey girl, did you have a good day? I didn’t see you around much?” Asks Janine, with a small frown, her face slightly coated in worry.

“Yes I had a good day, I just had a lot of grading to do and preferred to do it in my own space.” You reply reassuringly.

“Oh okay!” She smiles at you.

“Hey, uh, Y/N?” You recognize the voice, it’s Lauryn “Do you think maybe.. you’d wanna um, get drinks or something tonight?” She asks nervously.

“Uh, um” you have no idea what to say “I uh..”

Melissa, who was talking to Barb as per usual, notices you and Lauryn right away and decides that this is her time to shine, this is where this little Lauryn thing stops. 

“Hey, Lauryn?” Melissa says while approaching you from behind “Have you ever noticed in the last six months that, I don’t know, me and Y/N are dating? Or did you just think we were joking?”

“Oh! Well..” The girl in front of you says 

“Save it glasses, and save up that money for a new pair because this one isn’t working” Mel says “Now back the fuck off before I throw you down the stairs and the only drinks you’ll be getting are jello cups from the hospital” She finishes, before quickly turning around to grab her things and you by the arm and dragging you out the door.

“Oh, bye guys!!” She loudly says to everyone else in the room to make sure everyone heard.

“Bye Melissa!” Janine awkwardly says and makes her way towards Lauryn to check on her, not to comfort her, just to make sure no one ends up hating her in the future.

★

When you get to Melissa’s car, you can’t help but smile at her, and then well, laugh. You had no idea she was going to do this right then and there but she did. She joins the laughing fit after a few seconds.

“Oh how I love you!” You kiss her passionately before turning to your own car “I’ll see you at home sweetheart!” You yell at her before shutting your car door and starting your engine.

“I love you more hon, i’ll cook you your favorite pasta for dinner!” She yells back before shutting her car door as well.

With that, you both drive away to where was originally only Melissa’s house, but is now yours too, and you plan on it being for a very long time. Plus, you get to look for that new dress you want! 

[dark-konohagakure2]

Could you possibly write about pain having his way with a ninja from whatever village that was following/tracking him (also I love your writing soo much congrats on 1k!!)

tw: noncon, power imbalance, semi-public sex, improvised gags, pierced cocks, degradation, God complex, hate sex, kidnapping, Konoha sucks

All characters depicted are 18+

Pain has very keen senses, and not just his sight, his ability to sense a hostile presence has been nearly perfected after a lifetime of conflict and fighting for survival, so if he's being followed, he will find out sooner rather than later, especially since the ninja that the Hidden Leaf Village sent to track the leader of the Akatsuki is a barely adult chunin with hardly any combat experiencine, in other words; they sent cannon fodder after a God. Pain can plainly see that the damned Leaf Village hasn't changed a bit.

The orange haired man will remain as stoic as ever when he cooly demands that she show herself, but when she refuses to come out of hiding, he decides to take matters into his own hands. Pain will approach her hiding spot, where she is scared out of her mind and paralyzed in terror, Pain takes no pity on her when he snatches her out of her safe hiding place, having no sympathy for any Konoha shinobi attempting to harm him. He'll never allow that to happen ever again.

Pain won't bother with such niceties such as asking her why she's there, he already knows, just one glance at her Konohagakure forehead protector tells him absolutely everything he needs to know. Instead of interrogating or even killing her, Pain is going to use her for his most cherished pastime: making others understand the true meaning of pain.

There are countless ways he can make her experience true pain. He could crush her within an inch of her life with his Almighty Push, or he could stab through her non vital body parts with his black chakra rods, bit he eventually comes to a conclusion; instead of stabbing her with a rod, he'll impale her on his rod. Her village violated his in a irreparable way, so it's only fair that he return the favor.

"Did you truly think you could hide in the shadows without my noticing? Foolish girl, I see the Leaf didn't send their best... and they won't mind me taking a pawn like you off their hands..."

Pain is cold, in every sense of the word, his rigid body pressed flush against her's as he begins to remove her pants, as he's stripping her he'll remove every article or her clothing except one; her forehead protector, but that's because he's going to use it in a different way, wrapping the headband around her mouth so she can't cry out for help. An innocent soul being silenced with the symbol of the Hidden Leaf Village, it's almost poetic really.

Pain's cock isn't huge, but it's still intimidating with all the piercings lining the shaft, it will most certainly hurt when he forces it into her, a cock befitting someone with his name. Causing pain is the main goal here, so he won't prepare her or even warn her before shoving his cock into her untouched cunt, the rough piercings rubbing against her walls in a way that feels both agonizing, and almost pleasurable despite herself.

He won't rut into her like a mutt in heat, such base behavior is too far beneath him, instead he'll go at a torturously slow pace, forcing to feel every single ridge and stud on his cock as he rocks his hips against her's, slowly pulling nearly all the way out before slowly forcing every agonizing inch back into her, the pierced head of his cock nuzzled against her sensitive womb.

Pain's goal isn't even to get off, so whether he reaches climax or not is of little consequence. After a while he believes that his judgment of her is finished and that she's learned her lesson, but just as he's about to pull out, he feels her pussy spasming around his cock in an unwilling orgasm, that's when Pain decides it's time for a change of plans.

"Really? You just can't seem to control yourself can you..? Pitiful harlot, but you've captured my interest. You came here seeking out the Akatsuki, so I'll introduce you to them personally."

Pain is sure his beloved subordinates will enjoy the new toy, they've all been in dire need of some stress relief after all the searching they've been doing for the tailed beasts, and her goal was to get up close and personal with the Akatsuki, so this seems mutually beneficial for all parties involved, Pain just hopes she isn't an ingrate.

[freakyfrye]

ᝰ. coworkers. friends? lovers ♡

requested: vox x fem! reader, what if the reader got shot during the extermination and vox found them (but I tweaked it), injured prompt: “Steady, steady. That’s it. Just hold on to me. Good girl.”

type: headcanon/scenario

content: friends w/ benefits or situationship (up to interpretation, could go either way), soft/protective vox, blood, wound treating, vulnerable vox

note: this is not edited or proof read, so typos expected

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Heaven has the biggest balls to shorten a once a year of getting fucking hacked down into two giant fucks yous. Screw hell, right?

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Everyone had six months to prepare for this shit show of an excuse to massacre sinners, orchestrated by literal serial killer angels because let’s call them what they are sera, please. But you, of course, are running a little behind to get outta dodge.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Just because a large percentage of its habitants were literally dying by angels does not mean business just stops. Power doesn’t stop for no one, not even this.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི If you don't show up and do your job, you’ll never hear the end of it—especially not from Vox. Given he was your boss, that was what he was entitled to do. But that didn’t make it any better knowing that he gets to sit with the vees in one of their fancy penthouses while this all goes down and you're stuck finishing up some quotas.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Even as you complete your duties, Vox is texting you nonstop. It’s a little all over the place for someone like him: calling you good girl for your job well done, telling you to get to cover real soon, that you better not stop texting him, text him back when you get somewhere safe, yada yada yada.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Serves you right for fucking him one time…six times. Alright, you lost count. It was a complete accident—the first time. You were having a really stressful day. The day was starting to blur together after hearing some bad news. Before you knew it, your sucking faces with your boss after something he said made you frustrated, but in the best way. Now he thinks he’s entitled to your time even outside of work.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི After that, you’ve kinda been doing it whenever stress overwhelmed you, which was often. Sometimes you’re convinced in thinking Vox piles a crap load of work onto you just to have you ride him silly during your break in his office.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི You scoff at his behavior with an eye roll, darting into an alleyway, a shortcut to your hiding space before shooting him a curt text back. Mainly outta respect for yourself and your sanity, you try to keep it as close to professional as possible but it was hard when he pulls dumb crap like this.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Pausing briefly in the shadows, you spot an angel causing havoc in the area before flying away. You quickly slip across the street, through the main entrance of the building and up to one apartment you call your own. Only when you lock all possible locks and shut your blinds, do you feel relaxed enough to lean back against the kitchen window seat to text Vox, letting him know you're safe.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Never did you expect to find your window to shatter seconds later, an angel spear stabbed into your thigh. The pain was instantaneous, you want to cry out but you slam your hand over your mouth to muffle your screams as your eyes darts out the window, petrified to see that angel from earlier fighting someone right outside.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི You drop to the floor, losing your phone in the process as you crawl yourself away from the window, whimpering pathetically to the bathroom to lock yourself inside and hide there until the extermination ends. There was so much blood already lost, you could feel yourself grow weaker as you lean against the tube. Sleep consumed you a few minutes in.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི While unconscious, your phone was pinging back to back, texts from a very unhappy Vox. He told you to not stop texting him. To text him when you’re safe—he knows damn sure he did, for fuck, he was staring right at his words but for whatever fucking reason you didn’t listen. Why were you like this?

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི He couldn’t even pay attention to Alastor getting his ass handed to him, a historical moment, for his eyes were glued to his phone, waiting for those three dots to appear. When it didn’t show, he left the area for the security room, ignoring the Vees' questions.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Vox zaps his phone to a bigger screen, patience wearing thin when you still haven’t replied back during his short walk over. It was strumming the line of worry, something he hasn’t felt since he was alive, and it makes him sick. His stomach turns further when he can’t find you on any of the many cameras he has through the city.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི You're forcing his hand as he opens a spyware app. He normally doesn’t have to do this, never had a reason until now. But you weren’t responding, and never had he known you not to respond to him. May it be one worded or a full rant reply, you always did.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Your location says home. That’s a little relief shaved off the top of his worries. You're safe; the part of town you live barely gets touched during any extermination. But there was always a chance, giving him enough cause to zap himself into your living room via tv.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Thank God he did show up when he did. He could see the shattered window inside your kitchen from his position, phone abandoned on the floor. Eyes noticing a trail of blood leading off into a direction. He follows it to the bathroom, where he bangs rapidly, calling out your name. Like the text messages, he receives no response.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི He knocks the hinges off your flimsy door with one shoulder slam, eyes widen in shock at seeing you there unconscious, spar still in your thigh. Cursing, he reaches down and checks your pulse, exhaling sharply when there is one and slaps your face to wake you up.

“Hey… wake up… open your eyes for me.” Vox slaps a little harder after the light taps weren’t working, pleased to see your (color) eyes peel open to lock with his, “Yeah. Keep them open for me, sweetheart.”

He shifts his weight to glance down at your thigh, contemplating his next move. He wasn’t a fucking doctor, he didn’t know how to tend to injuries this size—especially one from an angel—but it was either help you or let you bleed out and he couldn’t bring himself to do the latter. Not when he went out of his way to check on you. It’ll be a waste of his time.

He leans down further, grabbing your arm to wrap around his shoulders, “Steady, Steady.” he whispers, reaching under your legs to pick you up, another arm supporting your lower back. He nods when you fist his shirt, “That’s it. Just hold on to me.” he murmurs against your head when it rolls heavily to rest on his chest, “Good girl.”

Hoisting you both up so he’s standing at full height, he maneuvers his way around your place with trial and error until he finds your bedroom. Placing you gently on the bed, he rushes back to the bathroom, yanking open drawers and cabinets until he finds an unused first aid kit. He peels it open as he returns back to your room, swiping the half empty bottle of alcohol on your kitchen table on the way.

Your eyes practically pop out your head when he grabs the spear, Vox looking at with a gentle expectant expression, “Might wanna bite on to something?” is all he says before slowly pulling the spar out.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི The pain was worse than when it got forced in your thigh that you were shaking your head with pleas for him to stop, lip quivering as you held his wrist tightly. It hurt so much you weren’t thinking straight, couldn’t wrap your head around why he was doing this.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི You were pissing him off, with your stupid tears and pleading for him to stop and then actually grabbing onto him to stop him. Can’t you see he was trying to help you? That he cares enough to want to make you feel better? That it will get better if you just stop all your wailing.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི With a growl he slams his mouth into yours, eating up all the screams you release once he yanks out the spar in one pull. He moves his mouth against yours, only to distract you, only until your screams turn to whimpers. Then he’s pulling away, undoing his belt to wrap it around your thigh to stop the bleeding.

The alcohol doesn’t hurt as much when he pours it over your wound. By then you are already all cried out, reduced to sniffling as he wraps you in gauze and bandages. “I need a hospital..” you mutter, voice hoarse from the screaming. “I don’t want to die again.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” Vox curses, finishing his wrapping before moving to lie beside you, wrapping a protective arm around you, face serious as he says, “You don’t get one. Not right now, not until the extermination is over. I’m all you got. Okay?” his gaze softens a large degree at the worried expression on your face. He reaches up, guiding you to look at him by your chin, “Hey… you got me… I won’t let you die.” he says, pecking you on your lips as if to seal the deal.

rules, masterlist

[maritotoy]

MAUGA X Support/Medic Reader ((Part. 1))

NOTE: Believe it or not, I never realize how long I've written this one.

This narrative tracks Mauga's obsession with Y/N as it grows to the point where he is prepared to kill everyone who stands in his way. With this in mind, Mauga's commitment would gradually grow. He would start out softly and then this need on you would get stronger.

It all began when your talents were initially utilised for recruitment. You were a terrific help, willing to assist your teammates in whatever way they needed.

Your main issue was that you could never truly let them handle things on their own. As a result, it became increasingly difficult to care for yourself.

They promised you riches if you helped them fight back against their threat. There were only so many ways to profit from rival worlds, after all. You were aware that you were going into a whole new universe when you agreed, but you also felt that you had no choice but to accept them.

Ultimately, you didn't wish to pass away, did you?

It was stated to you when you first joined TALON Organization, that you should concentrate only on the battlefield. Up until you met Baptiste, an exceptional combat medic, it was great with you. Your shared enthusiasm for curing illness is what unites the two of you. It turned into a shared passion. As you try to acquire experience in several areas, like medical supplies, you both hope to discover some more useful abilities, like healing or even a unique kind of combat capability.

But you can hardly ever get to Baptiste, he's constantly at the top. Both a combat mercenary and medic. You're always looking for ways to sharpen your skills.

Even after meeting him again at your base and on missions, you are still determined to improve your ability to deal with any possible emergencies. Not until later do you find out what happens when a member of your unit gets injured.

Baptiste surged in, carrying an imposing stature and a solid, muscular frame. His voice sounded desperate, asking, "I'm sorry if I came to you! I know you are busy, but I need help with my friend, please, Y/N!" The urgency was so obvious that there wasn't much resistance. Even if he was a doctor himself, it must have seemed urgent enough.

Besides... You were in the right place to help.

You rushed over to his side and helped him stabilize his huge friend. "What happened, Bap? Are you hurt?" He didn't reply, but his eyes told you all you needed to know.

You fix your sight on his pal. He does not appear to be hurt or seriously damage. However, the man's body is completely soaked, which looks very suspicious to you. "Is he alright, Bap? I don't see anything wrong." He shook his head and gave a sigh.

"We were attacked. Mauga and I found the source of the enemy attack and got separated."

"How long has it been since then?"

"Four hours, maybe five."

"Do you have any idea of what may have caused the damage?"

"I'm not sure. However, I had already discovered him unconscious but unharmed on the ground. It should not take long for him to awaken.." You glance at the unconscious man again before you say, "Let me take a look at him." He nodded and stepped aside.

"Mauga could never be wounded by shots like that. Despite his size, he could easily absorb one hit thanks to his physique." He explains.

You crouch down and check on his comrade. He seems fine to you. There's nothing unusual about him, other than the fact that he's a bit too heavy.

You knew Mauga.

And with such.

You just don't know how to engage with him.

On a conversation? Yes. Your profession is your duty.

You don’t really get along with those who rely solely on themselves as an advantage, even though you respect their abilities.

The feeling is mutual. Every time someone gets hurt because of something beyond their control, you are there to help them.

Because that's your job as a medic.

You both have quite a difference in interests, though. You can't stand the fact that he’s so reckless, you can't understand why he doesn't think more carefully before he acts. As soon as he sees blood, it's always the most important thing.

Mauga stands tall, towering over his opponents with an impressive height of 7'5 ft tall. (My headcanon)

Mauga is a formidable opponent on the front lines thanks to his strong, muscular physique. His broad shoulders and thick neck gives off an air of strength and power, and his body is well-built, demonstrating his strength and capacity to deal severe damage to rivals.

Did I mention he has two hearts?

Unlike you, Mauga is a ruthless and cunning individual, driven by his own motivations. He never lets anyone interfere with his goals, whether or not they involve you. While he might act with reckless disregard sometimes, he is also able to calculate the best course of action.

Not anyone knows this. But you knew nontheless with Baptiste.

You may be underestimating him in some way, or you may have witnessed the genuine thing, up close and personal, but he always brags about his achievements without hesitation or shame. His fighting style turns wild and unpredictable when he fights. If Mauga doesn't want to win, he will take his time, before using ChaCha and Gunny, his chainguns, to grab the victory, and he won't give up until he achieves his objective.

He definitely is careless, isn't he?

"He's breathing just fine, Baptiste. I would say he is in perfect health, aside from the injuries, I can't detect any signs of any damage injuries either." You said as you stood up. Baptiste sighs relief. "I'll leave him to you doctor. Don't worry, I trust that you have everything under control." He says this to you while nodding in satisfaction.

This gesture of his is a way of gratitude towards the medic's work.

"I will be back later," he says as he leaves to make a round to prepare for battle.

While Baptiste was gone, you sat next to the downed mercenary soldier and begin to observe him. In the midst of his unconsciousness, he seems to be in a good state. There was no sign of discomfort or pain. His pulses are fast but steady, knowing that Mauga have two hearts, one that allowed him to replace his damaged, organic heart with a cybernetic one. That way, his heart will beat twice as fast. You can easily tell that Mauga is in his natural state.

Your eyes began to feel heavy after observing him for some time. You weren't sure if it's due to fatigue from watching him, or simply exhaustion from your duties as a medic.

Before you knew it, you fell asleep.

When you awoke, you find yourself staring back into the face of Maugaloa Malosi, whose lips formed into those flashing, same pasted smile as usual. “Ah, Doctor. How nice to see you again.”

You quickly wake up, sitting straight up on the chair. “M-Mauga!" You exclaimed, alarmed. "H-How is you- I mean are you feeling alright?”

He grinned at you. “I am feeling rather fine.” You let out a long, sigh of relief. However, you didn't anticipate that this would happen frequently. “I see..." You replied.

Silence takes over for a while. Mauga stared at you intensely before taking a step forward. “Your Y/N, correct? Baptiste little assistant. I've heard much about you, but never expect that I would get to get treated from you.”

You flinched slightly at his words 'assistant' and the word 'little', but you remained calm. “I'm glad that you feel better now. You should rest and recover. If you still need them..."

“I appreciate the concern,” he says as he reaches towards your shoulder. You instinctively raise your hands in preparation of blocking. This caught him off guard, causing him to pause in his movements, then booms laughing.

“My apologies, Teuila. I thought that you might have forgotten what I do here,” he said in that familiar, friendly tone.

“If I recall correctly, I haven't given you permission to touch me.” This comment caught him off guard as he chuckles deeply.

He stares at your hand for a while longer. You're beginning to become worried. After a brief silence, he reaches forward and lightly holds onto your wrist.

“That’s a very sensitive spot…” He whispers gently. Your heartbeat begins to accelerate. “And your pulse is fast. Is this normal?” he asks. “Yes,” you respond in a soft voice.

“Then why are you afraid? You know I'm not going to hurt you...” He grinned. His sharp teeth glinted menacingly in the dim light. "Surely you've already made a friend? You also gave him a lot of attention than you do with me. Or have you grown to dislike me?"

"...I... I beg your pardon-" your speech is interrupted by Baptiste with a tired expression.

"Hey... Sorry that I took so long. I went to gather supplies. Mission was a success." He sighed in relief as he approached you.

"Mauga, I'm glad your awake bud." Baptiste sighs in relief and smiles at Mauga. Mauga returned the gesture before looking back at you.

He still has that huge grin plastered across his features while his eyes darted towards yours. "You're crazy out there Mauga. Do you really think that you can defeat the enemies single handedly?" Baptiste says with a chuckle. “You know me Baptiste, I never do things without planning them out.” He grinned, revealing that row of dazzlingly white teeth. “I still don't understand how you've been knocked down so easily. It's hard to believe that you can be beaten like that.” Baptiste gives a half smirk, half frown.

You listen to their conversation, and you try to make sense of it. Mauga laughs at the situation, as if it's all so obvious. "C'mon, Baptiste, we have bigger problems than me right now. The mission is a success because we finally found the enemy camp. But it was a close call, and we needed your medical expertise to treat the wounded," Mauga explains to Baptiste while looking directly into his eyes with a sly smile. "I carried your massive ass in this camp with support of your weight alone. You ought to be pleased to have a subordinate with such skill." Baptiste smirks. He was referring to you. Mauga laughs at his friend's criticism, displaying his amusement at the circumstances.

"So yeah. It was pretty rough, but we managed to secure the objective! Isn't that great news?"

It's not really a surprise to you.

Mauga does tend to put himself in danger, especially when he's in an unfamiliar place.

This guy is completely reckless, which is why you can't believe that he managed to survive so many battles without falling apart or breaking down.

"Your a loose-canon, but I hope ended well..." you say calmly, hoping that you sound convincing enough.

"I can assure that I have the highest respect and admiration for your abilities as a medic. I would never doubt your skills, even if I hadn't personally experience how skilled you are in dealing with wounds." Mauga comments, he sounds sincere as ever.

Baptiste grins again. "That's a big ego of yours, my friend. You should consider giving a few compliments to the people who did more than you."

"I would love to, my friend, but there's nothing wrong with being modest about our accomplishments."

"Alright," Baptiste said, sounding annoyed.

--------

After several hours, days, months of treating your patients at base. You cannot help but wonder seeing Mauga quite often, whether that is purely because of duty or something else. Although it is difficult to tell what he's thinking, there are moments where you notice the way that he is constantly staring at you. Like he's trying to figure out something about you:

studying your appearance, facial expressions, mannerisms. Sometimes he gets lost in his thoughts, sometimes he appears to be lost in his own world, occasionally, you could catch him smirking knowingly, or even smiling to himself. These small gestures usually only occur during times when it's with you with him. Sometimes, the man is just too cheerful, or too energetic in general.

You could hardly handle the stress of handling all these patients in the infirmary on your own. You're starting to miss having Baptiste around to keep him occupied while you go through patients. You sighed loudly not until Mauga appears behind you

You found him with wounds on his chest and torso. You turn to look at him, "What happened?"

"Nothing serious..." He grins, showing his sharpened teeth.

"Just a minor injury, eh?" You raise an eyebrow at the mercenary, crossing your arms over your chest. Mauga simply shrugs as he sits on a table.

There was another period of silence between you two, and the atmosphere seemed to tense up considerably. This time, it's you who breaks the silence. "I'm sorry that you got injured. I don't know how I should react seeing someone else getting hurt so casually. You could have died out there. And that's not the worst thing that can happen," you said sarcastically and sternly.

He chuckles. "Oh really? Tell me more." He leans closer to your face, gazing deeply into your eyes. "Ah. So that's how it is."

You glare at him angrily, but he ignores you as you continue working. "Are you seriously going to mock me for worrying about you?"

"Not at all," he replied, with a hint of sarcasm. "But there is one thing that concerns me."

"What? You're going to insult me too, aren't you?" Mauga laughs while Y/N tends his injury.

The felt of your touch sends shivers throughout his entire body. He tries hard to suppress the sudden urge to grab her hand and hold on tightly. It's becoming harder to control these urges though. He shakes his head rapidly as he pulls away from you. He looks at you with narrowed eyes. "I'm not mocking you, you know?"

Your gaze flicks briefly to his. "Hm."

There was a short silence between you two, until you began to clean a cut on one of his legs. You noticed his gaze follow every movement of your fingers. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'd prefer that you didn't ask questions so frequently, Teuila."

"Teuila?" You face him. "You know, I never asked you of this... But why do you call me that?" He lets out a deep chuckle and replies. "Because you look like Teuila. It fits well, doesn't it?" He flashes you a warm smile before turning his head away again.

You shrugged of his answer, continuing your work without saying anything further, although you were extremely curious. "Teuila... What does that word mean?" There's a brief moment of silence in between the two of you once you finished cleaning up the blood staining his leg. A faint smile plays across his lips again. "I thought you were better than that."

"And you think that you're better than me?"

"Yeah," he replies smugly.

"Then... You've obviously underestimated me, don't you?" You give him a challenging smirk. He returns the smile with a smirk of his own, but he then turns serious again. His eyes narrow. "Let me enlighten you. That name means 'flower'. Do you understand what kind of flower it means?"

You gave him a blank stare. He continues to smirk, waiting for you to understand his meaning. Eventually, you sigh, putting your hands on your hips. "Do I look like I care to know?" You scoff, rolling your eyes lightly.

Mauga laughs. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter what you think of it..."

There was silence between you two for a few seconds, and you looked away with furrowed brows.

You finish patching up the mercenary, placing some bandages around him and securing them securely. "Now that I finished helping you, you're dismissed." You professionaly said after you made sure that everything was covered properly. Mauga laughs at this. "Really? Now? Just like that?" He asks mockingly.

"Yes Mauga, I don't have any other duties besides tending to your wounds. I've been doing that for quite some time now," you responded coldly.

Mauga raises an eyebrow at this. "You know, if you start beginning to care about those wounds, you might find yourself losing them. If you want me to leave your clinic quickly, then you'll have to earn my trust first, which requires some work."

You sigh heavily. Of course Mauga will insist on making things difficult for you. "I am no doctor Mauga, I cannot cure your injuries." You sarcasticly said.

"Oh I know that. But you're still willing to take the risk." He chuckled.

"You wouldn't had to waste precious time coming here in order to talk shit."

Mauga laughs at you again, grinning like a cat that ate the canary. "I wouldn't waste too much time coming here either, but I also wouldn't be able to enjoy it quite as much because you'll be gone by then," he says confidently. "Besides, you're not exactly known for your patience." You roll your eyes, turning back to the table in front of you.

"You know I've always wondered what it feels like to be your patient," Mauga mused. "To be the one receiving the attention of the most skilled medic in your battalion."

"You must be joking," you replied, you know what he meant, not wanting to think that you would ever become his patient.

"No. You know me... " He grins. You groaned. "Don't' make such assumptions, we don't know each other all that well yet."

"Yet..."

You glared at him as he laughed. "Whatever. It seems like there's no stopping you, is there? We haven't even officially met yet, and already you're acting as if you have a good relationship with me." You sighed exasperatedly, massaging the area of your forehead in irritation.

"Listen, Mauga. My job is simple, I care for my patients and treat them well. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Oh yeah? Well, maybe I'm different," he said cockily.

"How? Are you not afraid of dying?"

"No... No I'm not... I've done so much more reckless things than death." His expression suddenly shifted to an emotionless one. For a moment, it felt almost as if he wasn't looking at you anymore. Then he chuckled softly, giving you a playful wink. "But I'm no saint."

"It must be hard to admit being human." You shook your head slightly.

"Sometimes." His grin returned to his features.

You couldn't help but stare directly into his eyes for a little longer, taking in how dark they actually are.

Mauga shows a huge plastered face. His still wearing his dumb smile.

You blinked at him.

He blinked back.

You rolled your eyes. "Stop smiling so much." He continued to laugh, as you turned away from him again. Mauga stood up and stretched lazily, "I have something to attend to, I'll be seeing you later," Mauga teasingly said as he made his way towards the door. He opens it, but he glances back.

A small smirk forms on his lips.

You watch him disappear outside the door, closing it behind him with a click. Once the door closes you let out a heavy sigh, resting your back against the wall behind you. Your heart is racing a mile, a minute, both at the prospect of having finally been alone with Mauga again, and the strange feeling within you after you spent several hours alone with him.

This feeling...

It's definitely not normal.

End of part 1

Part 2- ???

[astarioffsimpmain]

Sunday Snippet

Thank you for the tag, @nerdallwritey !! 😁

I have a snippet of something possibly a little different(?) in the works. I haven't decided what this thing will be yet, but it tumbled out of me pretty quick when I started it, so we'll see how it goes!

♡♡♡

You knew why you were here. You knew why Mephistopheles had taken interest in you; why he had summoned you to his home in the 8th layer. You were in bed with his son - both literally and figuratively. You had agreed to work with Raphael to defeat the Netherbrain, and in turn, you would retrieve the Crown of Karus for him - the very same crown that sat in his father’s archives for centuries, out of his reach. Raphael had been cordial and more than helpful, but something had happened along the way. He paid you far more personal visits than were necessary for the fulfillment of your contract, and frequently appeared in your camp with apothecary jars filled to the brim with water from the healing pools in his House of Hope after you were downed in battle. In return, you visited him often with “updates” on your progress, the visits usually devolving into long discussions over mulled cherry wine. And over time, the exploration of his many stores of liquor was not enough; you much preferred your shared exploration of each other once the conversation stilled, and you were almost certain Raphael would agree were he asked. 

But your budding relationship with the cambion had its price, and you were paying it today. Raphael had given you advice for your summons with his father. He was none too pleased with the visit but had little control in the matter. So he did his best to prepare you instead. “Do not lie to Mephistopheles.” he said. “He will see the lie and identify the truth as a weakness. In turn, he will do whatever he can to pry it from you. It is best to answer only the questions he asks you. Do not elaborate. Elaboration reveals secrets; reveals inconsistencies; reveals you. Answer modestly amidst your truth, but do not go so far as to grovel. He despises blubbering fools. If he is impressed with you, the best outcome is that he chooses to sit back and watch you for now. This meeting is not for you, nor is it regarding you. This meeting is a warning to me. Do not turn his attention toward you, Little Mouse. The cat can only keep you in its claws if it is not too busy fighting the fox.”

♡♡♡

Tagging, Darlings: @brabblesblog @thechaoticdruid @senualothbrok and anyone else who wants to join in!

[lockedbehindtheambereye]

Eizan, the runaway rabbit.

(s.n. i wanna redo eizans sprites because i went back to it not too long ago and flipped the canvas.... yeah his face is rlly wonky so i might do that in the future 😭)

Trivia:

- Ais Route

- All clothes were made by him, he is a master of textiles. This is because he had to find a way to be innovative while saving up for a cure.

- Very light on his feet and a fast runner, hence the name runaway rabbit.

- Very strong/fit and can handle himself in a fight

- Has ADHD and gets caught off guard very easily. This is usually his downfall as he needs time to strategize and process something before he utilizes his strength and dexterity.

- Loves humor and making people laugh and smile. He finds self worth in making others happy and makes it his mission to get a laugh out of someone as much as possible.

- Really good perception and understanding of the human mind bc of this.

- Rabbit symbolism

- Likes riding horses because it makes him even faster

- Generally a likeable person and isn't very hateful. He doesn't get mad very often, but when he does, he gets pissed.

- Has really good street smarts and is able to wield any weapon with decent efficiency. His preferred weapon is a dagger or a double-edged claymore.

- The only grudge he holds is against Roseus.

- Love language is touch

- Voice claim: Matt Shipman

Backstory:

Eizan was very popular in his home village. There was people who side eyed him because of his curse, but it was overshadowed by his bright personality and kindness. He was always a silly kid.

Whenever he was around 9 years old, he was playing tag with the village's children when his hand got caught on a protruding branch and tore his glove, exposing his hands. When he tagged another kid, the curse affected them. The child went mad and ended up stabbing Eizan with a stake. It was nearly fatal but both the child and Eizan survived. The child was subdued and the curse wore off without having to kill them. Eizan was scarred physically and mentally and lost his spark after that. He stayed inside, even if his parents tried to encourage him to go back outside and that the people forgave him. He couldn't do it until his best friend, Roseus (ro-shus), had made a promise to help him find a cure. From that point on, he slowly regained his spark and while recovering, he learned how to make clothing.

It was when they were both 19 that they had made enough money to get themselves to Eridia for a cure. They had packed their things and told their village goodbye. Eizan was a warrior to the village that protected them from fogfall, and he knew this, everyone did. Roseus was his partner in arms and they were leaving the village unguarded. They set up lethal traps and fencing all around the village, but they knew it wouldn't be enough. They knew what would happen to their people.

They wouldn't be able to come back, ever.

Their journey was incredibly long. They survived with very minimal damage to themselves until 2 years into their travels, they split. They were caught off guard by a soulless attack that wasn't prompted by a fogfall. It had injured Eizan's leg and left him immobile without the adrenaline to keep him on his feet. Roseus, driven by fear, prepared to run away.

Eizan yelled for his best friend, "Rose! Help me damnit! Kill the fucking thing!!"

The man in question looked at him, petrified. He shook his head in fear as the soulless turned to him, letting out a screech. Roseus yelped and turned heel, running away.

"ROSEUS!! ROSEUS YOU BASTARD YOU HAVE THE MONEY!! COME BACK!"

The soulless left Eizan as it ran in the direction of Roseus, and all Eizan knew was that he hoped Roseus was killed.

Without the money for the cure and only having pocket change left, he stood on wobbily feet. He winced at the pain in his leg. He took out his medkit and wrapped the injury the same way he would his hands. He swore to whatever god out there, that if he ever saw Roseus again, he'd kill him.

After hobbling for a while, he managed to find a caravan that accepted him onto their journey to Eridia.

More art and stat sheets below!!!

some of the stat sheets might need to be updated... its been a few months LMAO, same with my watermark

[antianakin]

Didn’t get a picture but I saw someone on the internet claiming that

a. Ahsoka, unlike Obi-Wan, was actually good enough at combat to defeat Anakin properly at Mustafar and should have gone instead. (and just that she’s the best at combat out of all the Jedi or something along those lines) b. because of her training and goddess-ness it means she’s the Most Powerful Jedi now. I feel like your blog is a good safe space to express my complete annoyance with everything going on here. why. Why. I am so tired of this (and all the anti-Jedi people in the fandom as well.)

and also, I love all your analyses on Star Wars and they always brighten my day! Thank you!

Lollllll this is a VERY safe space to express annoyance at these takes.

For one, Ahsoka literally DOES go up against Anakin and she FAILS. Anakin punts her off the side of a cliff (it's technically a battlestation but they're very high up so whatever, I'm calling it a cliff) and she only manages to snag off a piece of his mask because she runs up behind him while he's distracted with Kanan and Ezra rather than because she's genuinely able to overpower him through skill alone. She gets LUCKY.

People seem to forget that Ahsoka does NOT recognize that he's Anakin for the beginning part of that fight on Malachor. Like technically, deep down, she probably DOES know, but she's convinced herself it isn't true and Anakin confirms that at the beginning by saying he's the one who destroyed Anakin, so Ahsoka can just... go at him with everything she's got with zero conflict at all. There is literally NOTHING holding her back here, this is Ahsoka at FULL FORCE and she fails pretty epically.

She doesn't really do any better once she DOES know it's Anakin because she's immediately refusing to go on the offensive at all, she's JUST defensive because she doesn't WANT to kill Anakin. And more than that, she REFUSES to kill Anakin. She feels guilty for what's happened to him because she's decided that it's her fault for having left him behind. That's the whole arc she's gone on in Rebels, it's why her line to him once she can't deny that it's Anakin anymore is "I won't leave you. Not this time." That's not the kind of thing you say to someone you're prepared to defeat and/or kill. Ahsoka is prepared to DIE here because she'd rather die than abandon Anakin a second time and killing him would ABSOLUTELY be counted in that category for Ahsoka.

So not only is she just not competent enough to have beaten Anakin, I don't think it's reasonable to argue she would've even WANTED to. If Ahsoka had been on Mustafar, Anakin probably would've killed her, and then he would've been able to capture Padme and the twins and who knows what he would've done if he'd been able to do that.

And even within the Ahsoka show, she goes up against Baylan more than once and loses EACH TIME. Baylan literally tells her that she CAN'T beat him. She just isn't good enough. And this is a FILONI-RUN SHOW, there are zero other writers on this show, so if Baylan is telling Ahsoka that she isn't good enough to beat him, then presumably Filoni himself believes that that's true, at least for now. I imagine that she WILL beat him eventually, but it may end up similar to her win in season 1 where she's relying on distractions from other people or assistance or something. Who knows. But either way, she can't even beat a regular Jedi like Baylan, so how the fuck is she supposed to have beaten a major powerhouse like ANAKIN when he would've been hell bent on her death and destruction?

Obi-Wan DOES defeat Anakin properly on Mustafar, he just can't full-on kill him because the narrative sort-of requires Anakin to survive. He does LEAVE Anakin to die, though, and if Yoda had succeeded against Palpatine, Anakin WOULD'VE died. Obi-Wan CHOPS OFF THREE OF ANAKIN'S LIMBS AND LEAVES ANAKIN TO BURN ALIVE, I'm not sure how much more properly defeated it is possible to get.

Also, the reason Obi-Wan defeats Anakin is almost never due to power levels. It's a combination of being centered/balanced in the Force and knowing Anakin so well that he can predict his moves extremely well. His win in ROTS on Mustafar isn't because Obi-Wan happened to be more powerful than Anakin, he's not. He just is aware enough of his surroundings to take advantage of an opportunity when he sees it and lasts long enough to be able to find it. The stunt choreographers also have explicitly stated that they intentionally choreographed this fight sequence with Obi-Wan consistently GIVING GROUND to Anakin in an attempt to give Anakin time to calm down and come to his senses. So not only is he just good enough to take advantage of an opportunity when he sees it, he's good enough to hold BACK for a while and still live through the fight. And if he's explicitly holding back in the fight, it means that there's even more power he could've been exerting and it's entirely possible that he might've been able to end the entire fight much earlier had he chosen to do so. There's never any kind of indication that that's true for Ahsoka during her one fight against him. She doesn't let herself get tossed off a cliff on purpose lol.

And of course in the Kenobi show, Obi-Wan wins in the flashback scene due to being SMARTER, not more powerful. In the final confrontation he wins because he's more BALANCED and is more willing to put everything he's got into his attacks and changes up his fighting style so he can take Anakin by surprise, so when he slashes off a piece of his helmet, it's not just because Anakin was distracted, it's because Obi-Wan genuinely fought Anakin down enough to make that hit.

Obi-Wan might genuinely be the ONLY person who could go up against Anakin and WIN by the time you get to the Rebellion era. And it isn't because he's more powerful than anybody else, he just happens to have an advantage against this particular opponent which means that the disparity in power-levels is canceled out by Obi-Wan's knowledge of Anakin and the fact that he is just straight up smarter in a fight than Anakin is.

Ahsoka, by contrast, was taught by a dude who tends to rely on brute force to win his fights, and so that's often ALSO how we see her win her own fights. Most of the fights we see her winning are against opponents who are far weaker than she is, like Inquisitors or Mandalorians. Occasionally she fights someone like Maul and has to be a little smarter about it, but most of her major victories are against weaker opponents. She's a brute force fighter, not a smart fighter most of the time, because she CAN be. But she's not more powerful than ANAKIN, and she'll never be able to brute force her way through a fight with him, and she's not smart enough to outwit him, even if she WAS willing to hurt/kill him.

I'm not sure what "training" this person might've been referring to, either, because Ahsoka gets 1.5-2 years of official Padawan training MAXIMUM and some of that would've been Anakin's bullshit blaster blocking training which isn't exactly going to help Ahsoka against ANAKIN HIMSELF. As for the goddess thing, while it's definitely sort-of in there and implied, it's not technically confirmed and so far nothing has really been shown about it that makes her exponentially more powerful than anyone else. She has to flee a fight against Baylan, she'd have died fighting Morgan and the zombies if Sabine hadn't stayed behind to help her, she'd have died on Malachor if Ezra hadn't jumped in to help her, etc. She doesn't seem to have any super special goddess powers that we've seen so far, so it seems a little early to be counting that in her power levels.

Not to mention that in the "Most Powerful Jedi Alive During the Mandoverse" competition, she doesn't have a shit load of competitors she's up against here. The only other options to compare her against that are currently confirmed to be alive post-ROTJ are Luke, Leia, and Grogu. All three of them are shown to be pretty powerful in the Force, but Leia likely isn't super well-trained and Grogu is still a child, and therefore it doesn't seem fair to compare them to Ahsoka at this point. But Luke? I have a hard time believing Ahsoka is MORE powerful than Luke. Close, perhaps, we know she IS supposed to be fairly powerful in general, it's why she was able to be a Padawan so early, but possibly not MORE powerful.

And power alone does not actually guarantee a victory. She could be more powerful than Baylan, but if he's a better fighter, he'll still beat her. As shown with Obi-Wan and Anakin, power alone won't win a battle if your opponent is smart enough to simply outwit you. Obi-Wan can beat Anakin, and Baylan can beat Ahsoka. Ahsoka can be an extremely powerful Force user and still not be able to beat someone with better training than her.

I'll also note at the end here that Ahsoka isn't even canonically a Jedi at this point. She's never once claimed to be in the Ahsoka show and she explicitly says she isn't one in Rebels. She makes comments about how there's more to being a Jedi than using a lightsaber, but that isn't confirmation that she CONSIDERS herself a Jedi or that she'd call herself a Jedi. So she can't be the most powerful Jedi if she's not a Jedi at all. Same goes for Baylan, Grogu, and Leia.

Which leaves us back at Luke as the most powerful Jedi in existence within the timeline of the Ahsoka show because out of all of our options, Luke is the single person alive willing to actually identify as a fucking Jedi.

[creedslove]

HEARTLESS 💔 - PART NINETEEN

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: Jack needs to go on a mission and leave you and Wyatt at home; it hurts him but he needs to get the job done, at the same time you and your son prepare yourselves for Halloween 🎃

(This is the nineteenth chapter of my HEARTLESS 💔 series)

• PART ONE TO EIGHTEEN ON MY MASTERLIST

Warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst and overall no other warnings to avoid spoilers so you are on your own here besties

A/N: I missed our cowboy so much, my besties! As this is almost the end of our lovely story, we need to let him and sugar go with their happy ending, but of course there's still some Halloween treats going on. Also, kind of obvious but this chapter takes place on Halloween

5.8k words

If someone asked Wyatt exactly what a marriage was, he wouldn't be able to explain it properly, he didn't understand much about grown up stuff, it was boring and his little life of playing with animals and with his toys and eating his mommy's delicious food while being a cowboy with his daddy was way more important to him; however, Wyatt had watched enough cartoons to know that mommies and daddies lived together with their babies and his dad had told him that if his mommy accepted his surprise, then that would happen to them and he was excited about that.

Wyatt was so willing to have you and his daddy together for good, he took all the instructions Jack had given him seriously, because he wanted everything to be perfect for you, he wanted his mommy to be happy with his daddy after all, and for that, he would help Jack do whatever he needed, but luckily, his daddy's first instruction, apart from being completely silent about the beautiful, glowing ring, Wyatt was asked to act as normal as possible, so he could surprise you when the moment was right, and so was it that the next few days went by completely normal, you and Jack were going strong in your recent relationship as Wyatt was enjoying farm life more and more, and the very few times you actually had to go back to the city in order to pick up more clothes, check on your apartment and make sure everything was in order, your son was each time sadder and sadder to leave the ranch. He had everything he ever loved in there, a life with his mommy and daddy, animals, Silver Pony and Silver Star and the mere prospect of having to go back to the city scared him to death. He loved his home and his family and he had made up his little mind he wouldn't leave without a fight. Luckily to him, you also had no plans of returning to the city, as the weeks passed and your relationship progressed with Jack, you didn't see the need of returning permanently to the city. Of course it was still necessary to do so, eventually for some doctor appointments, shopping for new clothes and stuff like that, but if you were going to be honest with yourself, you also didn't see you and your son going back to a small, cramped apartment once you got used to that gorgeous ranch. It was beautiful, spacious and it had everything you needed; not to mention you had re-encountered love once more. Saying you weren't madly in love with that stupid cowboy would be a huge lie, it's not that you had ever fallen out of love with him, you hadn't, even during the worst time of your life and how cruel he'd been to you; you should have done it though, however, you simply couldn't. Even during the hard moments in which you burned with anger at the mere thought of what he'd done to you, that intense love was just there, underneath all. You had both dreamed and dreaded the moment Whiskey would walk back into your life not knowing what to do, and even if it was hard at first, then you were thankful it happened in a way you are able to see Jack really meant his feelings and you both couldn't fight the passion any longer, even if you still felt a paralyzing fear of being hurt, you decided to trust your man in your own terms: he had a chance, the only and final one, and in case he did anything to ruin that, then you and him would be history.

Luckily to you and Wyatt, Jack was nothing but the best and most caring boyfriend and father; all he wanted was to make sure you and your son were happy and well. He would spoil the two of you and do anything in his power so you would be next to him. He loved you more than anything in the world and his son was the most precious little thing he could ever ask for. He was taking care of his family like he should have from the beginning and there was no stopping him this time. That's why he went over his plan with Wyatt for several days, talking to his son and using his help to form an alliance in order to make you the best proposal he could think of. Yeah, you two had been engaged before your son's birth, but you didn't want it to be like that, especially because you both had come to an agreement of having a new beginning. So Jack kept your former engagement in a box and locked it in his closet, it was a pretty ring, but he still remembers coming home still feeling hot headed after the argument you two had over the revelation of your pregnancy. One of, if not the biggest regret he'd ever had in his life was definitely his reaction towards the news that changed both of your lives. He didn't know what to say or what to do after you broke the news to him, it was in fact, as if he had stopped processing facts for a while. However, when he finally realized what had happened it was as if something had broken inside of him, he felt as if he had lost the ground under his feet and above all, he felt betrayed, as if it didn't matter to you the family he had previously lost. Of course Jack knew that wasn't it, he knew he was severely mentally ill at the time and that was a reflection of it, and yet, he also knew he should have been a decent man for you and your son. But instead, he'd told you unspeakable things, he'd made you the vilest proposition someone could ever think of - for you to choose between him and your son - and he left you crying, on your own and went to a bar to get wasted.

When he came back home, all he found was the silence and emptiness he felt surrounded him and also around him. Your clothes, belongings, accessories, everything that made that home a little more yours than just his were gone, and the only proof you'd ever been there was the engagement ring you left on his pillow. You'd made your choice; you'd chosen your son.

So that was the whole reason why he thought it would be a nice idea to get you a new engagement ring, he had a feeling the previous ring carried a lot more negative meaning than the two of you would like to admit. Besides, he got to choose a brand new jewelry for you, not sparing any money - one of the greatest advantages of being a high profile Statesman employee after all. After gathering his son's help, Jack waited for the perfect moment, he was anxious and nervous, as he hadn't really planned on a specific scenario, instead, he tried to find a suitable time and place, feel in his heart when it should happen, preferably when Wyatt was also around, as your son showed great interest in it, being a supporter of the idea since the beginning.

It happened in the late afternoon, just a regular day of the week that ended up becoming one of the most special days of your life. You and your family had gone for a horse ride, Jack deciding - with your agreement - that Wyatt was already old enough to learn how to ride a horse, you three stopped by at the stables but the little boy went with Silver Star, which didn't stop her from trying to running and that lead your cowboy to use his lasso to stop her and your son from going too fast. On one hand you were a little scared, your heart racing from seeing your baby boy looking so big and independent from his parents, but also a huge wave of pride to see him becoming a cowboy just like his dad.

You'd made a basket with treats and sandwiches in order to have a picnic and the moment you three settled by the willow trees - one of your favorite places at his ranch - and Jack realized the sun was setting, creating the perfect atmosphere of laughter, happiness and a beautiful landscape. He winked and nodded at his son showing him it was time to propose to his mommy. Wyatt clapped his small hands in excitement and watched intently while the cowboy got on his knees in front of you, taking your hand and professing you love words. You knew what was happening, but at the same time it felt like you didn't, as your heart was racing so much and the tears simply couldn't stop clouding your vision. You held your breath the moment he showed you a brand new engagement ring, it was one of the most beautiful jewelry you'd ever seen in your life and there was no way you could ever say no to that.

The moment Jack finally asked you the question, proposing to you and you said yes, it was as if time had stopped and there were only the three of you in the world, your happy little family, you, your son and your future husband. You had said yes and that was how you were officially engaged to Jack Daniels once more.

•••

"Sugar, listen to me…" Jack placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer "it will be a short mission, in a few days I'll be back home, I ain't even looking towards any women, you know they don't compare to you. I've never been unfaithful to you and I ain't starting now sugar…"

You could see the honesty and pleading in his eyes and even if it was recomforting to be assured like that by him and acknowledge how dedicated he was to you, however, you would be over the moon if your concern was reduced to only a bunch of whores throwing themselves onto your man.

"Cowboy, it's not it, I mean, I know you're faithful and I'm also faithful to you, and I will always be… but I'm scared and worried. You remember what happened on your last mission… I don't want that to happen again, I mean, I don't even want to think of the slightest possibility of it, please. You have a family now, me and Wyatt, you are leaving us home, but we want you here with us" You used just about the same pleading eyes in order to convince your cowboy to stay, you couldn't place your finger exactly on why you were so anxious and needy, but if it were up to you, you'd use his lasso to keep him tied down to your bed, not letting him leave at all. You felt so vulnerable without even understanding why, but your biggest desire was to be held by him and assured he wouldn't move an inch away from you. He placed his hands on the side of your face and stroked your cheek so gently, affection and love pouring from him as he saw you looking so helpless at that moment. He leaned in for a kiss and smiled

"It will be fine, sugar. It will be just a few days as I said, I'll be alright, keep my ass safe… you know it's an emergency, that's why Champ called me, I will call you every day, and I'll make sure to keep you updated, I have a gorgeous family to come home to, and I ain't never let that go, now please, help me out because I can't have two sad puppy faces staring at me like that without breaking my heart" he pointed at Wyatt who pouted and looked at his daddy's bag. You felt emotional and didn't know exactly what to do, but you nodded, as your future husband needed help. He was the best damn agent that place had ever seen, of course he would come back home safely.

You wiped your tears and lowered yourself, picking up your son and snuggling him.

"Don't be upset my angel, daddy will be gone just for a little while, right daddy?!" You looked at him, who picked up the cue and nodded

"Yeah buddy, daddy will be away for a couple of days to work, but I need you to be a strong cowboy and take care of mama, can you do that for me?" Wyatt nodded reluctantly, his red eyes almost making the cowboy turn around and give up the idea of going to work. He couldn't though, otherwise he would've done it once for all. The cowboy couldn't resist the urge of wrapping his arms around his son, pulling him for a tight embrace.

"You know daddy loves you and mama more than anything in the world, right? It will be for a short while, and soon enough I'll be here for you, remember you wanted to go out trick or treating? Daddy promises he will be back before Halloween, okay?"

After Wyatt nodded, sighing but snuggling him and you also pulled him into a real needy and long hug, leaving home to go on a mission was definitely the hardest task that cowboy had done; he questioned himself if he was doing the right thing, after all, when he got suspended from Statesman, all he wanted to do was get back on the field and show them all he was still a top notch agent, the best they'd ever had and that he could handle any kind of situation, but once he saw how his family felt anxious and upset about him leaving, he felt tortured to go to work, he didn't have to, he had plenty of money and wouldn't need to work violent and dangerous job now he was settling down once more. Still, he felt like he owed that to Champ, even if he disappointed the older man with his bad conduct during the last mission, they still shared a very special bond - Jack was like the son Champ never had, and the younger cowboy envisioned the older one as a fatherly figure. No wonder why Jack ended up only in therapy after nearly sabotaging such a serious mission instead of going to prison. He hopped on his Bronco and drove to the headquarters, trying not to think much of his broken heart to be gone.

The first night was rough without your cowboy, even if Whiskey had called, and then he had video chatted and talked to both you and Wyatt, it was still so sad and lonely without him. Worse than the years you spent alone with your son, the absence of Jack now was depressing, after staying with him, living almost an endless honeymoon it was upsetting to say the least. That night, your sweet Wyatt snuggled closer to you in bed and you only fell asleep with your face buried deep into his curls.

What really changed your routine happened the morning after Jack left; it was as if you knew something was up but you couldn't actually get a hold of it, instead, you simply woke up with the worst wave of nausea you'd ever witnessed. It was odd, you hadn't had dinner the night before nor eaten anything suspicious, so the first thought that crossed your mind was immediately dismissed. You couldn't and you wouldn't.

As much as you tried to push aside those thoughts, they insisted on coming back whenever you got distracted, you tried your best keeping your mind busy, focusing on the son you actually had. So you and Wyatt spent most days together, playing, cooking and baking, even if the slightest food smell made you feel sick to your stomach and riding and petting the horses. You knew Halloween was approaching and Wyatt was excited to go trick-or-treating, as it was going to be the first ever Halloween his daddy would be a part of it and even if you two had actually to drive downtown to do it, as the ranches were too apart from each other, you still promised him you would carve the pumpkins with your son, and you sort of kept your promise, if it weren't for the fact the moment you began cutting open the pumpkins, the smell was enough to make your stomach twist and you had to rush to the bathroom, however, this time wasn't possible to hide it from your son, which caused Wyatt to run to you worriedly

"Are you okay mommy?" He asked you while placing his small hands on your back "can we call daddy please?"

You shook your head and smiled weakly at him

"No baby, mommy is fine, I just got a tummy bug, that's all" you assured him, even though you knew there was more to it and you simply just didn't want to admit it. You asked your son for a bottle of water from the fridge as you grabbed your phone and checked the app you used to keep your cycle in check and even if you knew the answer, a part of you was still so stubborn you couldn't bring yourself to believe it. Taking turns between checking your app and the calendar, you sighed and closed your eyes, letting yourself digest the information that your period was late.

There was a huge chance you were pregnant again.

You couldn't sleep at all that night, tossing and turning in bed and playing the most different scenarios in your head. Jack would be happy, wouldn't he? He was the one who was insisting on having a baby, but you also terrified yourself at the possibility that maybe, he was just trying to convince you to marry him. What if he changed his mind and panicked? What if he never came back from the mission? No, you shook your head and squinted your eyes, trying to physically keep your anxiety away from you. The very little you managed to doze off were filled with dreams about you and the cowboy getting into a huge fight and breaking up. That was something that couldn't happen, you knew your heart wouldn't take that kind of disappointment for a second time, and if he even threatened to walk away from you both, well, from you three, you would never see him again.

But a part of you desperately begged you to calm down and relax a little, maybe you weren't even pregnant, you couldn't say for sure without a test, and all of that could've been just a mind trick after panicking so much at the idea your body actually began reproducing that kind of symptoms. It wasn't the first time your period was that late and it could have been a stomach bug, after all you hadn't been eating well since your cowboy left you a week ago. There was still at least another one to come and the idea of actually buying yourself a pregnancy test was horrifying. However, since Wyatt started asking you to dress up as a zombie cowboy, you knew you would have to buy him some things such as fake bruises stickers and a costume hat, as you wouldn't risk ruining the beautiful and expensive stetson Jack had gifted your son. It would be the perfect excuse, you would do some Halloween shopping and also get yourself a test, everything would be just fine, you assured yourself, after all, you still had a small hope in your heart things were nothing but your mind playing tricks on you.

The next morning, while Wyatt went to get dressed as fast as he could so you both could go out and get him his costume, you watched yourself in the mirror. We're your breasts larger? You didn't know if they actually were or if you were under the wrong impression, if Whiskey had been there, he would be able to tell it immediately. In fact, he would probably be the first one to even notice it. Then you stared at your stomach, was it a little swollen or you were just getting paranoid? As you were lost in your thoughts with your blouse lifted you felt tiny hands on your tummy and looked down at Wyatt's smiley face staring at you

"You look so pretty, mommy!" He said happily and smiled big at you, his small arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his head against your womb and sighed deeply. He was an affectionate boy, but he had never done that before… Why start it now?

You stroked his curls very gently and lowered yourself to his level

"Do you think mommy looks different?" You asked

"No, just pretty" he shrugged happily and ran outside the bedroom.

•••

Another week had passed without any confirmation nor denial; you simply didn't have the guts to take that test and see for yourself if you were indeed pregnant or not. You talked to your cowboy every single night, and even if he thought it was odd you weren't up for some web sex with him, he didn't push it, as you simply lied by saying you were on your period. Whiskey could tell something was off, but he assumed it was just a combination of his absence and your tiredness. Besides, Wyatt was staying up later each night, so he could talk to his daddy which caused you both to behave yourselves.

You had taken Wyatt out for shopping, he'd bought as many Halloween things he wanted, you also bought some extra candy just in case some trick or treaters passes by the ranch, which you thought it wouldn't happen, but you didn't want to risk not having any and while your son was too distracted by the shampoo aisle - you'd asked him to pick the best shampoo to wash his hair - you grabbed your pregnancy tests. Tests. Because you wouldn't trust just one, so you decided three would be a decent enough number. It broke your heart to see how sweet Wyatt was the moment he spotted a mother shopping with her baby girl. The moment he saw her, he giggled and rushed to them "look mommy! A cute baby!!!" Wyatt had squealed just as you hid the tests under a bunch of other stuff you followed him, smiling at how sensitive your son was. You nodded and agreed with him, playing with his soft curls.

Not only that, after the episode, Wyatt spent the whole week asking you about babies. If you thought they were cute, if he was a nice baby, if you and his daddy had a baby would it be a normal baby or would it be a cowboy baby. In other circumstances, you would be very amused by his questions, but given what was going on, you felt extremely anxious about it. Perhaps that was the whole reason why you kept postponing the test for days; however, you knew Jack was about to come home any day now, and you needed to have an answer, it wasn't fair to you or him, not to mention he would see right through you and figure something was definitely wrong. So the day before Halloween, you made your son dinner - chicken nuggets, mashed potatoes and peas, his favorite - and played with him until he fell asleep. When you were sure you wouldn't be interrupted, you finally took courage, grabbed your tests and followed the instructions.

And the wait began.

And it felt like forever, until the whole three of them showed the lines indicating that indeed, you were pregnant.

You didn't react for several minutes, perhaps it was the shock, even if you deep down inside already knew you were expecting a baby. You were going to be a mom, again. You got pregnant by the man who abandoned you and your son once, would it go wrong this time? You didn't want to believe it, at the same time you were flooding with all kinds of anxious thoughts and feelings. You wish you could just curl up on the couch and fall asleep until you could come up with a solution to that situation, but Wyatt's fast steps drew your attention "mommy!!! Help me get dressed!!!" He giggled as he barged in his cowboy outfit, holding his fake blood and wound stickers. His excitement was so adorable, it made your heart warm at how cute he really was. You wrapped your arms tight around him, pulling him closer and snuggling your son. He was a little confused at your affection but giggled "help me mommy!" He asked as he couldn't wait to go out.

The moment you saw your son, your heart warmed and filled with love, he was so precious, the most important little thing in your life, and you'd just learned you were growing a new life inside of your womb, his baby brother or sister, you didn't know, but at that moment, only Wyatt mattered, the way he looked so excited, his little chocolate eyes glimmering you decided you would stop feeling sorry for yourself, you were a grown woman, you had been through a pregnancy once and you could do it a second time. No matter if your cowboy was going to step up or not, though you hoped really hard he would, you would focus on your son, making sure he had the Halloween he had waited for all along.

•••

Wyatt jumped excitedly, although he still held your hand and smiled big

"I got a lot of candies, mommy!!!" He giggled as you carried his bag which was indeed way heavier than what it could be considered healthy. His costume was adorable, a mix of zombie and a cowboy as he fit in perfectly with the other kids. You had driven downtown where all the people gathered and enjoyed the festive day, seeing how your life would be like for the following years. You knew Jack had no intentions of moving away, definitely not going to the city, which you also agreed. You liked that atmosphere, the small town kind of warmth, it was nice and you also remembered you would need to start looking for a new school for Wyatt. And not only that, you would need to care for a whole new baby, and Jack wasn't even there to calm you down. And that was when it hit you: he hadn't called you that night, even worse, he had promised you and Wyatt he would spend Halloween with you both, as a family, but instead, he had established no communication and a wave of anxiety and worry rushed through you as you began picturing the worst possible scenarios. The story of Jack nearly dying his last mission, the cruelty of the death he nearly faced still haunted you and you would be lying if you didn't wake up quite a few times at night after having a nightmare about losing your cowboy. You couldn't give into those horrible thoughts, not at that moment, your son was happy, you were spending a very nice time together and if it weren't for the fact a lasso wrapped around you and Wyatt, making you both stop dead in your tracks…

And a lasso?!

You and Wyatt exchanged confused looks before turning around and facing Whiskey's shit eating grin as he was in his fight position, lasso in hands and looking every bit of devilish handsome he always did. Damn, stupid pregnancy hormones.

"DADDY!!!" Wyatt's deafening squeal was enough for Whiskey to loosen the rope around you both as he opened his arms to receive his son's sweet hug. They had missed each other so much, he couldn't even believe he had actually had the guts to leave his family to go on a mission, but the important thing was that he was back, in time to spend one of his son's favorite holidays. He wrapped his arms around Wyatt and snuggled him, kissing the top of his head and ruffing his hair gently, loving his costume, and chuckling at the enthusiasm in which your son told his daddy every single little thing that happened the days he spent away. And then it was your turn to rush to your cowboy, being too emotional after everything that happened, including the mini internal meltdown you had at the mere fear he had died during the mission, you rushed to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. Your cowboy was finally back home, to you and your family, and you couldn't be happier as you needed him more than anything now.

Jack was so happy at the warm welcome he received from his family and he knew that was exactly what he wanted all along; he wanted to have a good reason to come back home to, and now he had it. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you for another kiss, he saw how beautiful you were, you were almost glowing and there was something different about you even if he couldn't actually tell what it was.

"I missed you sugar" he whispered against your lips and looked down as Wyatt kept tugging at his sleeve, wanting to spend some time with his daddy, after missing him desperately

"Come on daddy, let's trick or treat!" Wyatt begged with his cute puppy face, his energy restored to the fullest now he was surprised by the wave of excitement at the fact his father was there, for him and for his mommy.

•••

Jack had returned from his mission just about an hour before meeting his family, he thought of calling you and let you both know, but instead, he decided to surprise you and it couldn't have been better. He knew you two would be downtown, so it wasn't difficult to spot his family, but as much as he wanted to come closer, you were both walking fast at a reasonable distance from him, so the best idea that came to his mind was simply using his lasso on the two of you, which was both funny and cute, since you never saw it coming, but to him, the best part was when the two of you rushed to him, as if he'd been gone for months instead of just two weeks. It made his heart clench with love and affection, he was finally home, with his family and he cherished that like no other. The way they spent the rest of the evening walking around, getting Wyatt more candy, then they stopped by a small cute place to have some corn dogs and then the three of you headed home.

Wyatt only fell asleep after hours home, he had eaten some of his candy, while you figured what you'd do with the rest of it since it was way too much. Your cowboy had barely taken off his jacket and was already all over Wyatt, leaving you some time for yourself, in which you showered, and got ready for bed. You still didn't know how or when you'd break the news to him, but you felt your stomach twisting the moment you saw him walking towards you with a bottle of wine. You couldn't drink that, what were you supposed to say? Luckily to you, Jack hadn't insisted and even if he was a little suspicious, he didn't question you why you'd said you had a headache, though he seemed a little disappointed to miss you the opportunity to have a drink with you, he still kissed your lips gently and went to shower, needing the relaxation and the hot water pouring over his sore shoulders. He was so happy to be home, all he wanted was to finish his warm shower and get under the covers with his sugar, so he could relax and enjoy a moment of peace. Once he finished showering, he decided to shave, wanting his face to be smooth as possible in case his sugar decided to ride her cowboy. It didn't take him too long to finish, just a little trim on his mustache and he would be good to go. He didn't know exactly why he looked down, at the trash can, but for whatever reason he did it, and at first when he saw those boxes in it, he thought maybe they were antibiotic boxes, but that didn't make any sense, if either you or Wyatt got sick to the point of getting antibiotics you would've said something, so the cowboy squinted his eyes in order to take a better look at it and felt his heart skipping a beat the moment he realized it was indeed a pregnancy test.

In fact, it wasn't just a pregnancy test, there were quite a few boxes, which meant you really made sure to know whatever the result was. Now, it deeply saddened him to know why you hadn't said anything, you hadn't even mentioned the suspicions you had; and it also made sense why you were acting a little off. Jack shook his head and swallowed hard, he had desired to have a baby with you, another one, to give your son a baby brother and sister, and it hurt him to see you decided to be silent about it because he had hurt you way too many times. However, he couldn't simply shrug it off and pretend nothing had happened, he needed to talk things through and for that, he took the proof into his hands and went after you.

•••

When you heard Jack calling your name instead of 'sugar' you knew something was wrong. You swallowed hard, knowing something was up, just by the way he walked towards you. Your heart neatly dropped the moment you saw exactly what he was carrying. That was not how you wanted him to find out about things, you wish you had prepared him beforehand, talked to him or perhaps prepared him a cute surprise, you weren't sure, but you were so scared.

"Is this what I think it is? Are you really pregnant sugar?"

"I-I am so sorry Jack, I didn't mean to get pregnant, it was an accident, I didn't want to do that, please don't be mad and don't leave us, please" you begged but you were interrupted by the cowboy falling onto his knees in front of you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and with tears in his eyes, he lifted your shirt up only enough to see your belly. He placed an affectionate kiss to it and rested his head against it in complete silence. He didn't need to say anything else, he was hopelessly in love with the fact he was going to be a father again and this time he would do things right.

____

A/N: I hope you besties enjoyed this chapter, because the next one will be the end of this beautiful series 🥺❤️

[synthetickitsune]

ateez + the little things

Hongjoong ❧ It’s late, yet you’re dragging on your nightly routine as much as possible. Wherever you go, you keep your phone within reach. The ringtone is on too, a change from the usual silent setting that you always forget to turn off. Hongjoong is a busy man. You doubt there exists a number to count all his apologies that you’ve accepted with a fond smile. You know that he cares, that he worries, and so you always keep your phone close. It’s always a surprise when it does ring, but it has taught you not to fear the sudden incoming calls too much - even if it’s all the more disappointing when the caller’s id doesn’t read his name. When it rings this late at night, you know what to expect; his tired voice drawling the words. He never talks about work, that’s for when you’re together, for when he can hold you as you ramble about this week’s infuriating incidents and for when you run your hands through his hair. No, his phone calls are always for one thing only - “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Seonghwa ❧ It’s a struggle to stay on top of everything - what with your job, your interests, the chores, maybe some social life and sleep squeezed in. Seonghwa is painfully aware of that and it’s honestly near the top of the list of reasons why you’re grateful to have him. What’s the number one reason, though, is his superpower. You’ve never met anyone like him and you’re sure he’s ruined at least half of the population for you. Because somehow, he helps you without making you feel like he’s nagging. And you know it’s his choice to treat you that way from the stories the other members tell you. He reminds you of stuff that needs to be done urgently and makes sure that you’re making progress on anything that takes a while to finish as the deadline is coming closer, and somehow he does so in a way that doesn’t make you want to give up on the task in question. Perhaps it’s the fact that he remembers all those things with his own busy schedule, or maybe it’s the proud look in his eyes and lingering kiss he gives you when you tell him you’re done. Who knows.

Yunho ❧ He knows when you need to get up, when you need to get up, just like he knows the type of breakfast that you can eat without upsetting your stomach early in the morning, what you like to drink to wake up and he doesn’t forget to prepare the vitamins next to the cup to keep you healthy. Yunho roughly remembers the time you need before you truly begin to function and he makes sure you’re out of the bed with enough time before you need to leave. If he can, he does anything in his power to make sure your morning goes smoothly. Your routines are so intertwined now it’s not that big of a deal anyway, but you appreciate it more than he’ll ever know. While your efforts are not as intricate, you try. Making sure he ate, reminding him to take breaks and that he’s already doing well, hugging him from behind when he least expects it. Yet he always one-ups you. It’s not a competition, of course, but any time you melt into his kiss while he’s rushing out the door has you feeling like he’s winning in this domestic life thing.

Yeosang ❧ If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you live with an angel. It’s rare to find a person as caring and generous as Yeosang. Or maybe you’re just taking advantage of him, even if he keeps reassuring you that’s not the case. The thing is, you’re pretty sure this world doesn’t deserve him - or at the very least, you don’t. He always shares with you without expecting anything in return. Peeling oranges is so much work, yet he never hesitates to give you at least half of his without you having to ask. You laugh at the couples on tv that fight over sharing fries because your saint of a boyfriend always encourages you to take his. Whatever is his, is yours. Although he might grumble playfully, he never threatens to take back the clothes you borrow. He’s bought another pillow because you kept saying that it’s more comfortable than yours. He shares his shower gel, his shampoo, his cologne sometimes too, just because you mentioned you liked smelling like him. You can only hope he won’t mind sharing his future with you too.

San ❧ He always stays aware of the looks people give him and how they react to him. San’s only wish is for everyone to be comfortable around him, and you most of all. As much as he knows you admire the hard work he’s put into his body and that your eyes linger on him just a second longer when he’s walking around shirtless, he knows that sometimes his appearance is something he needs to be mindful of. Conflicts happen in every relationship and sometimes people are simply too on edge. And that’s when he knows to sit down, ideally, or to focus on calming down even if it means holding his tongue when all he wants to do is argue back, to keep his posture relaxed instead of standing proud and rolling his shoulders back. He teaches himself patience for you. The last thing he wants is to scare you, and he knows how easy it is to make you flinch when emotions are high. It’s hard, but it’s all worth it when you no longer worry about approaching him after a fight. When you always finish making up with him by whispering a thank you against his lips.

Mingi ❧ The one thing that never fails to fascinate you about Mingi is how much attention he pays to you. Sometimes it might almost seem like he's hovering, but it's really just that he likes to spend his rare free time with you and make sure you're alright. He can't always be there for you and it makes him feel guilty, so he's trying to compensate for it when he can. And it's magical. He somehow always notices when you're about to bump into something, when you hold the knife in a dangerous way while cutting vegetables, or when you accidentally drop something and he pulls you right back so you don't get hurt. It's unbelievable how fast his reflexes work when it comes to you… and how he still manages to get hurt in all the ways he protects you from. If it wasn’t for his sheepish smile and hundred muttered apologies when you patch him up or get him an ice pack for his burned hand, you’d think he does it for attention.

Wooyoung ❧ He’s pretty sure he’s never made anyone as happy as he makes you. As you dig into the meal he’s prepared according to a recipe he’s never tried before, Wooyoung can’t hold back his smile at the sight of your cheeks filled with his food. He tries to fight it, but the genuine delight he sees on your face makes it impossible. It’s different from the proud look in your eyes when you see him perform, unlike the loving smile you grace him with each day or the happiness you radiate whenever he brings you little silly knick-knacks that reminded him of you. This is… purer? Is that the word? He can’t quite describe it, but he swears it’s the closest thing to pure joy he’s ever seen. And in turn it makes him smile the exact same way at you and your heart flutters because this is the effect you have on him? You end up smiling at each other like two idiots, your cheeks round and full with food, they burn because you’ve been grinning for the past ten minutes straight. It must be love.

Jongho ❧ Sometimes he wonders whether you’re getting tired. Feelings are messy, and expressing them is something he’s always struggled with, which usually leads to you making the first step. It’s a struggle to find the compromise between your individual love languages and Jongho will be the first one to admit you’re doing a significantly better job. Somehow you always manage to respect his boundaries while expressing yourself in the way you’re comfortable and making him feel loved. He’s trying, too, yet it seems to him it’s not enough. Maybe it’s the time strain, maybe it’s his own self-doubt creeping in. All he knows is that he loves you, and that it’s much easier to ramble, to vent, to be vulnerable and clumsily tell you all that he feels and thinks when you’re not looking at him with those eyes that make him feel like you already know each word he’s about to say. He’s so careful and gentle with his touch when you lay next to him asleep, his voice barely above whisper. Sometimes he hopes you’re only pretending and that you listen to him in silence. And sometimes he’s right.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Flufftober Day 1 | It'll be okay

Pairing | Best friend!Chris Evans x Best friend!Female!Reader

Word count | 1.3K

Summary | After nearly a decade of being together, you're going through a very intense break-up, so you're at a loss about what to do with yourself. Luckily for you, your best friend Chris knows exactly what to do to make you feel better, and you're very thankful to have him in your life.

Warning(s) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. RPF, hurt/comfort, Reader going through a tricky (mutual) break-up, Chris being the best friend ever, implied smut.

Prompt(s) | 1. ''I've got you'' | @flufftober 2023

A/n | I'm slowly catching up with the missed days, so here's the first one to complete the collection this month! I thought I'd start the month off with a bit of hurt/comfort, so I hope you will all enjoy it as much as I did when writing it 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 🧡

Divider made by @cafekitsune | GIF-credit goes to @quacxon

Main Masterlist | Chris Evans Masterlist | Flufftober Masterlist

''I think it's about time we talk,'' your boyfriend, Nathan, says as he sits at the dinner table. You just finished preparing dinner and have put it on the table, though you're extremely worried as you see the look on his face.

''I-Is everything okay…?'' you ask, though you already know what will come out of his mouth next. This is the talk you've been dreading for a while, ever since he mentioned the possibility of working overseas a few months ago.

''Actually, no, it's not,'' he says as he's fighting back the tears, and you stand up to sit on his lap, where you grab his face and place your forehead against his.

He doesn't have to say the words to know it's over, though you're not ready to face that reality yet. ''Can we have one more night together? Please, it's all I'm asking before you go,'' you ask as you close your eyes, hoping to stop the tears from falling, but to no avail.

Nathan wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer until there's little to no space left between the two of you, and that's when he kisses you in a way that sends you soaring.

''I'd love nothing more than that,'' he says before he picks you up and walks you to the bedroom, the dinner you prepared forgotten entirely as the two of you make love for the rest of the evening and night, exploring every inch of each other one last time.

The following day has come too soon, and you've packed your stuff quickly since most of the things in the house are Nathan's, and he can decide what to do.

Finally, the moment to say goodbye is here, and you can't hold back the tears that are coming because you two have been through a lot over the past nine years.

''Please, kiss me one last time before I go,'' you ask of him, and he does by pulling you close to him and closing the distance with the softest, sweetest, most heartbreaking kiss you have ever felt. When you pull away, you give him a sad smile before pulling away from his hold.

''I wish you all the best, Nathan. And I hope you will find the woman of your dreams there, as well. You deserve it,'' you say as you pick up your duffel bag and suitcase; the rest of your stuff is in a storage unit until you have found your place to live.

''I hope you find love too because I know that whatever man you choose must be exceptional to be loved by you,'' he says, and with a slight nod and a last wave, you walk out the door of the place you once called home.

The Uber you called is already waiting for you as you load the suitcase and duffel bag into the trunk of the car, and you wave to Nathan one last time before getting into your Uber. As he drives off, you're officially leaving your old life behind.

For now, you'll be staying at your best friend Chris' house until you've found your place, and that's where you're headed while he's preparing for your arrival.

He made you two care packages for when you arrive to make you feel a little more at home right away since you'll be living in his house for at least two months, maybe even longer.

Chris has been busy getting a few care packages ready for your arrival the entire morning. The first one he made included everything from a blanket to cuddle under to a few pairs of fuzzy socks and from a few books to your favorite snacks.

The other one is in your bathroom, attached to the guest bedroom you'll be occupying. It includes pads and tampons in various shapes and sizes, a few face masks, a thick bathrobe, fuzzy slippers, different kinds of shampoos/conditioners, and a purple vibrator, which he got as a joke, knowing you'd appreciate it.

He's in his kitchen preparing lunch when he gets your message.

< Princess 👑 > I'll be there in 10 minutes. I can't wait to see you and Dodger again!

< Chris 🐶 > We can't wait either, Princess. We're already waiting for you!

He sends the text with a photo of Dodger, who's excitedly looking out the window after he told him you'd be coming over later.

When you see the photo, you instantly get a big smile and are excited to see him again, even though you've just said goodbye to the man you were convinced you'd marry one day.

''We're here, ma'am,'' your Uber driver says, and you get out of the Uber, seeing Chris waiting at his front door for you. After grabbing your suitcase and duffel bag, you thank the Uber driver and walk up to your best friend.

He lets you put your stuff inside before pulling you into a hug, and almost instantly, you burst out into tears as you feel the safety of his arms enveloping you.

''Shhh, it'll be okay, Princess, I've got you,'' he says between kisses on the crown of your head, his big hands rubbing your back softly as you cry into his chest, soaking his shirt. It is far from pretty, but you would be lying if you said you weren't feeling 100 times better after.

''I-I'm sorry, I need to freshen up,'' you say before pulling away and instantly feeling guilty as you see the mess you made of his shirt.

''Hey, don't worry about my shirt. It'll get clean in the wash,'' he says, and you nod before apologizing again and freshen yourself up in the bathroom and change into some comfortable clothing before getting some Dodger cuddles.

Once you walk into your room, you spot a big basket with stuff on your bed, and you walk over to peek at everything in there, finding a little note from Chris as well.

''I hope this will make you feel right at home'' is what it says on the card, and you can't help but smile at it and nod softly. It's everything you could have wished for and more.

Walking into the bathroom, you see a similar basket, which immediately warms your heart until you look at everything there. ''You little shit,'' you laugh as you find the vibrator he got you, though you plan to make good use of that in a while.

When you're freshened up and wearing your glasses, your hair in a messy bun, and your comfiest clothing is put on, you walk downstairs, immediately greeted by Dodger.

''Hi, Buddy! Come on, let's get some cuddles on the couch, okay?'' you say, and he happily follows you before jumping on and taking his place in your lap.

''I see someone's happy to see you,'' Chris laughs as he walks in with a cup of tea for you and some water for himself, and he grabs the lunch he was preparing before you came over, having made enough to share between both of you.

''Thank you for everything, Chris. It means a lot that you'll let me stay here,'' you say with a big smile. He rubs your cheek lovingly with his thumb, and you lean into his touch.

That day is spent watching some cheesy rom-coms, cuddling with Dodger, eating ice cream and other snacks, and that evening, you fell asleep when you were cuddled up against Chris.

He carried you to bed and tucked you in, but before he could leave, you woke up and turned to him.

''Stay, please,'' you croak out softly. He has never been one to say no to you, so that first night is spent sleeping in Chris' arms, in your safe place. You haven't slept that comfortably in a while.