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chocolatecakecas · 3 years

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To Infinity and Beyond: baby!Jack truthing Birthday Ficlet

Today already looked like the perfect day. Warm weather, the sun shining, the birds singing, all the usual qualifications for "perfection". And if Dean had anything to say about it, it is also going to be, the perfect day.

Because Dean had planned out everything. Tents and tables spread out in the backyard of their new house, enough hamburgers and hotdogs to feed an army, a giant sheet cake in the freezer, and it looked like a Party City catalogue threw up all over their house, both inside and out. Hell, he and Cas even got a bounce house.

Yup, today was going to be perfect, Dean thought as he surveyed the backyard. He was going to make sure of it, nothing was going to go wro-

"To infinity and beyond!"

And the next thing he knew, he had a recently turned four year old, barreling into his legs almost knocking him off the porch.

(read the rest under the cut)

He looked down to see Jack already dressed in his outfit for the day. A shirt with Buzz Lightyear's costume printed on it, complete with little cardboard Buzz wings (Cas made them), purple shorts with a purple tutu, and of course, his favorite Buzz light-up sneakers.

"I'd say that was a bit of a crash landing there, Mr.Lightyear" Dean laughed, as he bent down to right Jack's scribbled cardboard wings. Jack just ignored his reference, instead letting out an excited shriek as he took in the backyard.

Every tablecloth, plate, napkin, cup, balloon, and cardboard decoration was covered in Toy Story characters.

Toy Story, was the end all be all in their house, because they were Jack's favorite movies. So everything, was 100% Toy Story, 100% of the time, hence the party theme. And his favorite character was Buzz Lightyear, hence the costume.

"Dee where's your costume?" Jack questioned, after he finally recovered from the shock of seeing the, probably, overdecorated backyard.

"Yeah Sheriff Woody, where's your costume? It's almost one thirty" Cas called as he stepped out the backdoor. Cas was already dressed in t-shirt with Jessie's outfit printed on the front, her matching red hat, jeans and of course, cowboy boots which Dea-wait shit they only had a half an hour left.

And he hadn't even double checked th-

"The backyard and inside of the house already look incredible. Go on and get ready before everyone starts arriving" Cas smiled sweetly, knowing how worried Dean was about today.

"I will, after I chec-"

"Dean, I promise, I'll double check all the decorations, and the food. Me and the little space ranger have got it covered, right baby?" Cas supplied, looking fondly over at Jack.

"Yeah me and Da got it! Get dressed Dee" Jack cheered, as hopped down the steps and raced "flew" across the grass cardboard wings flapping behind him.

"Go get changed, cowboy. Everything already looks perfect" Cas teased, pressing a quick peck to Dean's lips. And then he was bounding down the steps towards Jack, warning him not to go near the bounce house.

So Dean reluctantly walked inside, forcing himself to ignore all of the things he wanted to check on, and instead making a beeline for their bedroom. He quickly pulled on his costume, but unlike Jack and Cas it was the real deal, not just a graphic t-shirt, Dean had the actual shirt, the vest, whole nine yards. Jack had asked if Dean would wear a real Woody costume and, hey who was he to deny his kid on his birthday?

So with a sigh, Dean made his way back to the living room so he could reorganize the snack table.

He wanted everything to be perfect today. Perfect for Jack because, this was his first real birthday party after all. And because Dean's oldest memory was of his fourth birthday, his last birthday party actually since it wasn't like they were throwing big family bashes on the road. No, birthdays were a box of cigarettes from his Dad (if he even remembered), or Dean sometimes scraping together enough money to get a cake for Sam's birthday.

Which is why today had to go smoothly. Because Jack deserved the world, he deserved to have a good life filled with memories of big family parties with fun decorations and food and laughter. And Dean could give it to him now, give him what he and Sam never had. So today had to be special, it had-needed to be perfect.

"Dean, I don't think Jack is going to care if the clouds are a little crooked" Cas pointed out, amusement dancing in his voice as he walked into the living room.

Dean huffed a laugh, but didn't stop his mission to straighten out the paper "Andy's Room" clouds taped to the wall above the table. Cas just sighed as he gently pulled his hand away from the wall, turning Dean towards him.

"Dean I know how much you want to make this day absolutely perfect for Jack, believe me I do too. But he's going to love every single second of it. He's practically bouncing off the walls already, and the party hasn't even started yet" Cas assured as he squeezed Dean's hands.

"I know, I know. But he deserves to have the best damn birthday. Especially after everything and he's just- Jack shoul-" Dean started, only to be cut off by the sound of the doorbell.

"It's Uncle Sammy and Aunt Eileen! Can I open the door, please?" Jack called from down the hall, asking for permission.

"Yeah buddy, you're allowed to open the door. Let them in" Dean shouted back, unable to help the smile pulling at his lips when he heard Jack enthusiastically telling them about "all the cool decorations".

"See? Jack is already loving it! Now relax, and enjoy the party, cowboy. Everything is going to be perfect" Cas smiled as he made his way down the hall to greet Sam and Eileen. But not before giving Dean's ass a little smack.

A few hours into the party everything was smooth sailing, and Dean had only been scolded for readjusting some decorations four times. The kids Jack invited from his class were having a great time, as where their parents, which was especially great because not a single one of them managed to see a member of Dean and Cas’ family discreetly place their weapons in the spare bedroom (Dean wasn’t a fool, it was a party full of hunters, he wasn’t just gonna make a no weapons rule because what if something happened?). So then Dean and Eileen manned the grill like champs, Cas and Garth kept an eye on the kiddos in the bounce house, Sam had handled the Buzz Lightyear shaped piñata perfectly, while Dean organized the kids, making sure Jack was the one to break it. The sun stayed shining, the birds kept singing. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

And it was all Dean’s fault.

Dean's stomach dropped as he stared down at the now smudged faces of Woody, Buzz and half of the green aliens. Because Dean just smooshed the entire left side of the cake while trying to take lid off.

He just destroyed the most important part of the party, the part Jack was most excited about. Now Dean just ruined everythi-

"-come in star command, do you read me?" Cas joked, completely startling Dean, because how long had Cas been standing there?

"Dean, what's wro-oh" Cas sighed as soon as he caught sight of the cake.

"I friggin smooshed the whole thing with the lid. It's destroyed we can't-the party and Jack and-" Dean rambled, heart pounding against his chest, while Cas took the life from his hands and gently set it on the other side of the counter.

"Dean, stop it's okay breathe for me. It's just the cake. It's not your fault. It's still edible, we can fix this" Cas soothed as softly cupped Dean's cheeks in an attempt to ground him.

"Hey are you guys alri-oh shit" Eileen gasped as she and Sam walked through the kitchen door, which caused Dean’s heart rate to pick up again.

"It's okay, it'll be fine. We can try to scrape some of it back together with a knife" Sam offered, quickly moving Dean and Cas to the side so he could get at the cake.

But it only made the faces look completely unrecognizable.

"Damnit, what are we gonna-"

"Dee! Can we have cake now?" Jack asked as he came racing into the kitchen, and Dean, Cas, Sam and Eileen quickly huddled in front of the counter to hide the cake from sight.

"In a few minutes squish, we're still uh-getting it ready" Dean managed plastering a wide, hopefully convincing smile on his face.

"Why don't you go jump around the bounce house again, buddy?" Sam suggested, which had Jack nearly bolting out of the kitchen again with a nod

"Make sure one of your aunts or uncles, or your friends' parents are watching you!" Cas called after him, which only got a tiny "okay Da" in response.

They all let out a breath when they heard the backdoor slam, and quickly turned to look at the offending cake again.

"It's not that late, what if one of us runs to store and see if they have ano-"

"They won't, we ordered this specia-"

"And there seems to be no sign of intelligent life anywhere" Claire joked as she entered the kitchen and quickly surveyed the mess before her, eyes widening when she spotted the cake. And Dean normally would have teased her the reference but he was too busy, freaking the fuck out, so he chose to ignore it.

"What do we do? We can't fix this, there's no time it's completely rui-"

"Wait, dude calm down. I have an idea, hold on a minute" Claire proclaimed, and swiftly exited the kitchen, which did pretty much nothing to calm Dean's panic. In fact he was getting desperate.

"Do you think Rowena might have a spell-"

"That's not how magic works. But honestly Dean, I'm sure Jack won't even notice-"

"The kid can recite the entirety of Toy Story 2 from memory and you don't think he's gonna notice Woody is missing his entire head?"

"Alright, start grabbing the Toy Story figures and wash them off. Then we can put them all over the cake instead, and cover up the horrifyingly smeared faces" Claire ordered as she came back into the kitchen with Kaia in tow, and box of Jack's toys in hand.

And Dean could have cried from relief (he did).

"Holy shit Claire you're a genius" Dean praised, as he quickly began sifting through the box.

"I know, I know. Now c'mon, I want cake"

And a few minutes later everyone was gathered around the dining room table, singing a completely off key rendition of Happy Birthday. Jack was seated in the center of it all, with a half smooshed, slightly lopsided, plastic figure covered cake, with Dean and Cas crouching on either side of him. Jack hadn't even commented on the completely smeared face of Woody or Ham, he was just clapping along, bouncing in his seat. In fact, he the biggest smile Dean had ever seen on his face, and he teared up at the sight.

"Blow out the candles and make a wish, baby" Cas encouraged, and Jack attempted to do just that. Only succeeding when Dean secretly helped blow out the candles for him.

"Yay! To infinity and beyond!" Jack shouted again, as he stood up and jumped on his chair. The room easily erupted into laughter, while Charlie and Jody each snapped pictures from across the table.

"Alright Lightyear, let's not fall with style into the already smooshed cake" Dean joked, as he quickly stabilized Jack, which only caused everyone to burst into more laughter.

So, Dean scooped up Jack, sitting in his chair and placing him on his lap, while Sam offered to cut up the cake. And Cas took plopped down in the chair next to them, sliding him and Jack a plate.

"Are you having fun at your birthday party, baby?" Cas questioned as he handed Jack a plastic fork.

"Yeah! Claire jumped in the house with me! And Danny and Sarah and me played in the sandbox! An-and we played tag, and Aunt Donna played too! And the cake has all my friends on it, see!" Jack rushed out all in one breath, stopping to point at the now sliced cake. By "friends" he of course meant his actual Toy Story figures of course. But before Dean could even react to any of that, Cas was whispering in Jack's ear, and pulling away.

"Thank you for all the party things, Dee!" Jack beamed as he turned and threw his arms around Dean's neck.

And Dean's heart clenched as he tightly wrapped his arms around his kid, feeling a tear roll down his cheek. He looked back up to see Cas smiling widely at them, so Dean whispered something in Jack's ear too. And then Jack was off flinging himself around Cas' neck.

"Why doesn't all the family get together, I can take the photos" Marissa, the mom of one of Jack's friends offered.

And soon the three of them were surrounded by their family on all sides. Everyone laughing when Marissa suggested they all say "yeehaw" instead of cheese. Jack giggling when Claire zoomed over, and bent down so she could smoosh their faces together for the obligatory "silly face" picture. Dean quickly swiping icing on both Cas and Jack's noses, causing Cas to tip Dean's cowboy hat and Jack to shove a handful of frosting on Dean's cheek.

So maybe it wasn't the flawless, smooth sailing birthday party Dean had planned. But the weather stayed warm, the sun still shone, the birds still sang. His family laughed, and ate and had a blast.

And Jack looked about as happy as they had ever seen him, as he ran around the yard with his friends and played games with his family. Dean would even go as far to count it as a complete success. Especially since Jack asked Cas, "when can we have a big party again?", as they tucked him into bed later that night.

So as far as Dean is concerned, it was the perfect day.

Tag list:

(please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!!💛)

@wormstacheangel @smiledean @shelikestv @chaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale @wikiangela @organicpurplepants @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @writtendevastation @tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog @sinnabonka @rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @icefire149

@shadowywerewolfqueen @the-cookie-navy @thelahatiel @thefantasyfiend @castielle-deanna @aestheticflyer26 @multi-fandom-imagine @x-mypeopleskillsarerusty-x @wellofwoes @becky-srs @multi-fandom-dark-lord @perfectkoaladream @castiel-for-lunch @it--hurts--to--become @bowtiesandneckerchiefs

@dakiaty @feraldean @teamfreebees @keshetcas @hrh-princess-bea @martymar1963 @midnight-sparks-studio @slipper007 @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @winchester-novak @lyonessrampant @angelic-bee-enthusiast @nguyenxtrang @idiot-on-the-hill @ethicalbitch @fandoms-and-things @doreschary @confix @milfcodeddean @seraphcastiel @seraphlm

#toy story 2 IS jack's favorite movie i will not be debating this. he is a boy of taste #dean and cas are secretive and dont trust the mail ahshdha #this is so self indulgent toy story 2 is my favorite movie of all time #this is based off when my parents accidentally smooshed half of the cake at my 3rd bday party and did exactly this asfhajdhah #so this is literally just a bunch of toy story references i apologize for nothing i had to hold myself back from making even moRE #de and da supremacy because its both parts of 'daddy' and he started calling them that when he first started to talk but it stuck #also its written from deans pov bc i couldnt write from actual 4 year old jack's pov so i apologize for that #HES FOUR!!!!#baby jack truthing #baby!jack #happy birthday jack!!!!#dean winchester #castiel #sammy #eileen #claire novak #destiel #destiel fic #bec writes #nougatparty #dad!dean #dadstiel #userzaddy #seraphcastiel

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winterscaptain · 3 years

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tell.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i cannot tell yall how long i have been working on this one, so i'll save it. thanks to @ssaic-jareau for hanging in there with me as i pulled late nights to make this happen over the weekend!! i love you!! i know it's broad daylight for you while im being irresponsible, but i appreciate it nevertheless. let me know what you think, my lovelies! i cherish your thoughts!

words: 7.4k warnings: language, discussion of sex, canon-typical case events

summary: “we are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact between us feels important, a rush of energy and relief.” veronica roth, allegiant. au!may 2012

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

It’s always tough to spend time away from home when you aren’t on a case, but a conference kept you from your boys the last couple of days, on Strauss’s request. Aaron was none too happy about it, but as the junior-most agent in the unit (even with five years under your belt), the shitty seminars and professional development events fell on your shoulders.

Even though you landed early in the morning, flying coach all the way back from California, there was a whole day with Jack waiting for you and Aaron upon your return. A rare Saturday - no case, no paperwork, just family.

You knock on the door with a knuckle, unable to reach your keys around your bags and breakfast.

Aaron opens the door with a “Hey!” coated in laughter, kissing your cheek. He’s still in his pajamas.

You squint at him. “Am I early?”

He snorts. “Never. We’re running late.” He takes the takeout bags and coffee from your hands. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Of course. I wanted -”

Jack runs across the apartment and slams into you full force. “You’re home!”

You curl around him, your hands on his head and shoulder as he cuddles into you. “I am! I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

His voice is muffled by your shirt and it makes you smile. You glance at Aaron over Jack’s head to find a smile.

“Come look at our fort!” Jack, wearing a blanket cape, takes you by the hand and brings you into the dining room, where the dining room table has been turned into a massive fort fit for a king.

Or, rather, two kings.

“Oh my goodness, Jack. This is incredible, little bug. Your architectural prowess knows no bounds.” You look up at Aaron from your place on the floor. “Where’s your cape?”

His deadpan, as usual, never fails to make you laugh. “Uh, I’m wearing it.”

Jack continues to drag you all the way under the table until you’re laying on your bellies in the little slap-dash shelter.

Aaron flops down on the floor on the other side of Jack. “We slept in here all night.”

“Really? That sounds like so much fun.”

What you mean is, What, with your bad back?

“Mmhmm,” he replies, only to really say -

Yep. I feel like shit.

“Can we sleep in here again tonight, Dad?” Jack asks, turning to Aaron. “All together?”

You exchange a glance with Aaron, who laughs.

So much for grown-up plans...

+++

You’re both scrambling to get ready for the bike ride across the mall and day at the Smithsonian when the phone call comes in.

“Hotchner,” Aaron says, still at the counter, tucking his phone under his chin as he finishes packing the rest of the picnic basket.

He freezes, hastily bagging some carrots and putting them in the basket before holding the phone in his hand and leaning heavily against the counter. “You’re kidding.”

That’s not a good tone.

Jack looks up at you, and you rest your hands on his chest over his shoulders, backing him into you as you watch Aaron with your lip between your teeth.

“Did they raise the terror alert?”

Shit.

“Okay. That’s for the best. Um…” He checks his watch. “I’ll get down there now. Yeah….Do you need the rest -”

With a huff, he meets your eyes and nods.

You let out a sigh and kiss Jack’s head. He knows the drill and runs off for your phone, still charging in the bedroom.

“Understood, ma’am. I’ll be there first. We gotta get Jack squared away but I’ll get going while -” He pauses, probably interrupted by Strauss again. “Thank you...Yes...I’ll be there as soon as I can and the rest of the team will meet at the scene.”

You know that also means you. You also can’t ignore the prick of anxiety that shoots through your belly, knowing he’ll likely be in danger without you for at least a half-hour.

Jack returns with your phone, Jessica already on the line.

+++

Aaron, of course, leaves right away while you wait for Jess.

You sit on the couch with Jack. “I’m so sorry, buddy. We’ll have to do a big day, just the three of us, another time.”

Jack shrugs. “It’s okay. Sometimes you just gotta catch the bad guys.”

The offhand nature of his understanding strikes you as instantly hilarious, and he laughs with you when you double over, wiping tears from your eyes.

“Yeah. Sometimes you just do, kiddo.”

+++

When you finally arrive at the scene, Dave’s already set up hostage negotiation. You cross the street, finding Will and JJ huddled with Emily and Derek.

“You okay?” You ask, placing your hand on Will’s shoulder. He’s not just JJ’s not-husband. He’s your friend, too, all on his own.

“Yeah, jus’ fine.” He shakes his head. “Jus’ a little rattled, is all.”

“Understandable.”

His mouth presses into a thin line as he exhales. “Thanks.” He checks his watch. “Y’all should get on back. I think Strauss just showed up.”

JJ kisses his cheek and trots off to meet the rest of the unit. After another hug for Will, you follow suit.

+++

“The media's calling them the Face Cards. Seven bank robberies in seven months. They've killed one person at each robbery.” Aaron leads the rest of you to the trailer, where the monitors are all set up.

Dave furrows his brow. “M. O.?”

“Single gunshot wound. Each of the victims has bled out.”

That doesn’t make much sense.

You jump in. “Serial killers with a 30-day cooling-off period and we're only just hearing about this now?”

“Well, headquarters has always characterized them robbers first and killers second,” Aaron replies, glancing back at you. You roll your eyes.

Of course they did.

“No one kills seven people without serious psychopathic tendencies,” Spencer notes. He’s more than right, and you thought the same thing - it’s almost like he took the words out of your mouth.

“I disagreed with the original assessment. I was overruled.” Aaron’s bland version of frustration is clear in his tone, but he knows, just as you do, that ship has sailed. All you can do now is handle what’s in front of you.

“So why are we here now?” Dave asks.

“Because crisis negotiation is overseas.”

Aaron starts to walk again as JJ asks after more information. Aaron usually rattles it off pretty quickly, but with the quick start this morning, you know he trusts the rest of you to ask the questions you need. “What more do we know about them?

“They're organized, they're efficient. Each strike lasts about two minutes.”

Derek, walking beside you, finally joins the conversation. “They gotta be scouting the banks in advance. Why haven't we been able to identify them off of surveillance footage?”

“They hack the security feed and turn off the cameras, both during the initial canvass and during the robbery, until the masks come back on, and then we're allowed to watch.” Aaron leads you all into the tactical staging truck, watching the security feeds.

+++

As you continue to watch, the scene becomes clearer, the power dynamics more tangible.

Dave sees it, too. “They're using the hostages as human shields.”

JJ, with Will beside her, studies the footage, watching the Queen run around while the King finds himself preoccupied with the Jack’s wound. “This is the first time they've been interrupted. What went wrong?”

“It's a big bank,” Emily says. “It's possible they weren't about to round everybody up before someone triggered an alarm.”

That’s a fair point, but you ask your question anyway. “Why haven't they cut the feed now that they've been cornered?”

Derek, still beside you, answers. “Letting us see inside gives up a tactical advantage. They gotta know that.”

They don't seem to care,” Aaron says, from your other side.

You’re all silent for another minute, watching to see what happens next. Even though their plans went awry, the team still looks fairly calm and collected, all things considered.

JJ’s frown only deepens. “They're overconfident. Arrogant, even.”

“The face card masks add to their narcissism.” Spencer’s voice comes from the end of the line. “Their personas are the royalty of poker.”

You nod - it’s a great point - while Aaron starts making assignments.

“JJ, Reid, and Prentiss, look at past robberies. That's gonna be our victimology. Pull another analyst if you need to.” He turns to you, then Dave, on his other side. “I want you two to handle negotiations. And, Morgan, strategize tactical options with MPD.”

You shuffle, gathering your radio and earpiece from the charger next to Penelope’s computer.

When the rest of the team leaves, you hang back with Dave, keying into the radio channels and standing by for further instruction - you know there’s more for you in the trailer at the moment.

Further instruction, though, may have to wait. Strauss climbs the steps into the rig and Aaron greets her. “Chief Strauss.”

“The Director ordered me to supervise your operation.”

Of course he did.

“Puts you right in the spotlight,” Dave says, not unkindly. It’s almost fond.

You can’t help but hold back a little bit of a smile. If the situation were reversed and it was Aaron at the helm, you’d be proud of him, too.

“Well, you've got gunmen with hostages in the Capital. The Hill's concerned.”

Aaron nods, gesturing to you and Dave. “We're about to open lines of communication.”

“What about a tactical assault?”

The three of you shake your heads as Aaron responds. “I don't think it's a good idea. There are hostages in front of the doors and windows.”

Erin, finally onboard, turns to Dave. “What's your negotiation strategy?”

“The Jack's bleeding out. They'll ask for medical attention.”

You hum, a little skeptical, and look back at the feed. “The female unsub might have something to say about that. Look at her body language.”

Dave follows your gaze. “She is cold and detached. The King seems genuinely concerned about his partner's welfare. But she couldn't give a damn.”

Your eyebrows raise. “The men probably know each other.”

Aaron, picking up on your train of thought, flags Penelope, “Garcia?”

She turns in her chair, already typing. “Shuffling my techno-fabulous deck of databases, sir.”

And so it begins.

+++

“I’ll do the talking - I’ll need to establish some rapport with them, but I’ll need you keeping the team updated and coordinating any allowances or personnel as things come up, okay?”

You nod, a little smile pulling at the side of your mouth. “You got it.”

Dave claps your shoulder. “You’ll be in this chair one day, so pay attention.”

“Yes, sir.”

He dials in and the phone starts ringing through the speaker. You’ll be able to hear everything.

“Who the hell's this?” You check the monitor. The King picked up the phone.

Obviously, the Jack can’t pick up the phone, stupid, he’s bleeding out!

“My name is David Rossi. I'm with the FBI. To whom am I speaking?”

The King doesn’t address the question, but rather looks back toward his fallen compatriot. “All right, I want a doctor sent in, and then I want out of here.”

Dave checks his watch. “Well, we certainly can discuss that. Let the hostages go and we'll give you all the medical help you need.”

You take a mental note. Your memories from Dave’s lectures at the academy are fuzzy at best, and you haven’t had very much time handling these things in the field. The last time a major hostage crisis was at hand, you were a hostage yourself.

A shot hostage, if the chronic nerve pain in your shoulder is any reminder.

“I can't do that. I need the leverage.”

“How about a sign of good faith? Send out the women and children and I'll see what I can do.”

You watch as the King takes the phone away from his mouth. You can vaguely hear him update the Queen, but she’s not having it. She pulls a child from the lineup and your lower lip disappears between your teeth.

A man, you presume the girl’s father, speaks to the Queen before she shoots him in the abdomen. The King gets back on the line.

“You better send in some more help or more people are gonna die.” He hangs up.

Shit.

+++

“You’re not seriously considering sending an agent in there?” You turn on Hotch and he sighs, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“We don’t have much of a choice. I’m not the authority on-site and with the director pressing Strauss, there’s not much I can do.”

The two of you are alone for the time being, so you’re able to rib him for a second to lighten the tension.

“What’s the point of being unit chief if you can’t lord it over everyone all the time?”

You're rewarded with a shadow of a smile and a snort. “Don’t be ridiculous. I lord it over you plenty.”

“Not enough.” Your tone is childish, the words murmured under your breath.

When he walks away, he taps the side of your ass with the back of his hand. If you weren’t in a professional setting, you could mistake it for a promise.

But, Aaron, that would be unprofessional!

You turn to look at him and just catch his wink as he hops up the steps behind Strauss.

+++

With Garcia’s magic and Aaron’s genius, you figure out that the men are related.

While Rossi hops on the next phone call, you help Derek outfit the medic with a bug and a weapon.

“We're sending in the medic now, Chris. Tell Oliver help is on the way.”

Derek nods at the medic and he hops off, heading into the bank. You jog over to the trailer only to find a humorously horrified look on Strauss’s face.

“Is she…”

You get closer, looking up at the monitor.

“...putting on lipstick?”

You scoff. “She’s vain. Only contributes to a profile of vanity and narcissism. She likes to be seen - this is a game for her.”

You jog back out before Strauss can respond, taking your place between Aaron and Derek.

“Green. You gotta go. Green. Go,” Derek says into his mic.

The agent-turned-medic makes a move and immediately gets a shot between the eyes for his trouble. Your hand files over your mouth and Derek ducks away, taking a second.

Well, that couldn’t have been any worse.

You look at Aaron, still staring at the screen, beside you. He’s thinking the same thing.

+++

Derek walks up to you, kevlar and sunglasses firmly in place. “Tactical's been deployed, snipers are moving into position.”

At your questioning look, Strauss clarifies. “The Director's ordered a full tactical assault.”

The look doesn’t leave your face. “His last orders cost us an agent.”

Radio transmissions fly one ear and out the other, not to mention the flurry of activity around the negotiation tent. Before Strauss can reply, Will’s call shoots past you to Aaron.

“SWAT's getting itchy fingers.”

Aaron turns, covering his comm mic at his chest. “You remind SWAT that bank robberies are federal jurisdiction. No one fires until they're ordered to.”

“Right.”

Will disappears and you suppress a little pleased shudder. Aaron’s very much in control now and it is doing things to your body that are better suited for, well, anywhere else. You tighten the velcro across your chest as if to compress another rush of… nothing useful.

Aaron turns back to you, Dave, Derek, and Strauss. “All right, when the crossfire starts, what's gonna happen to the hostages caught in the middle?”

The question is a trap, and Dave doubles down. “That's the wrong call, Erin, and you know it.”

Strauss falters for a minute, leveling with the rest of you. “It's not my call.”

Aaron doesn’t let up. “You're here and you're in charge.” His tone is sharper than yours would be in the same situation, but you’re nearly fifteen years younger and a whole four steps down on the totem pole.

Not for the first time, a rush of affection and gratitude for him crests over your in a wave and you have to look away, taking a deep breath to collect yourself. When you look back, he’s watching you.

I’m okay.

He nods as Erin speaks again.

“So you want me to disobey the Director?” Erin sounds dubious, at best.

Dave responds quickly. “Yes.”

Aaron amends, and if the situation wasn’t so tense his correction would almost be funny. “No. I just want you to buy us a little time.” He pauses, wavering for a second as he rephrases. “Don't be quite so efficient.”

You’re never surprised by Aaron’s political savvy, but it is a nice reminder that he can run circles around every bureaucrat in the district if given the chance.

“Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast.”

+++

“It’s an impossible ask, Dave. You know JJ will never go for it.”

“It’s not up to JJ.” Aaron’s voice approaches from behind you. “It’s the director’s call, but mine first.”

He comes to rest beside you as Dave leaves the two of you alone.

“What are you gonna do?” You look at Aaron, finding his eyes trained on the monitor, arms crossed over his chest.

He sighs. “If it was you he asked for...”

You bump his shoulder. “What, not interested in feeding me to serial killers today?”

It’s a loaded joke, especially for the two of you, but after Emily, you’re past such things. If the situation were reversed, Haley would never stop giving you hell for getting serial-killed the way she did. It’s only fair to return the favor.

“Over my dead body, baby.” He reaches down to squeeze your hand for a second before letting you go. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Stay here.”

+++

You can hear JJ’s anguished shouts from here, beside Dave and the phone.

Derek has a good enough hold on her, Emily and Aaron protecting him from JJ’s wild elbows. She’s beside herself but eventually breaks free and sprints back toward the trailer. You turn to follow her, just in time to hear a gunshot.

Will.

+++

You’re all gathered in the trailer as JJ asks the same questions over and over again. Garcia, just like the first time, doesn’t have any answers.

The static on the monitors is nearly deafening in its silence.

JJ looks at you for a moment and takes a shaky breath before looking at Hotch. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her voice is broken when she speaks. “Aaron.”

You know he’s never been able to deny her anything. In the entire time you’ve known him, it’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed.

His eyes don’t budge from hers. “We’re going in.”

+++

You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, trying to stem the stinging from the heat and debris. Your ears ring and you’ve got a scrape on your chin from where you face-planted into the asphalt.

Eventually, you remove your hands and open your eyes to the early summer sunshine. Your bias is clear enough - Aaron’s the first one you look for and the first one you find.

He’s looking a little dazed and more than a little ruffled, but alive.

Ignoring the whine in your ears and swiping some blood off your face, you jog over to him, taking stock of him from head to toe. “You alright?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and you realize he probably can’t hear you. An image of Kate reaching for you and the smell of blood flashes into your head, but you push it away.

His ear…

“Aaron?” You lay a hand on his shoulder and he startles a little, meeting your eyes and coming back to himself all at once.

He puts his hands on your shoulders, tipping your jaw up with one finger to examine your chin. “You’re hurt.”

“Honey, I’m fine. Your ear…” You follow a small trickle of blood up the side of his neck, rounding him to get a better look. Just as you’d feared, his bad ear is bleeding again.

He waves off your concern and taps his comm mic, calling for support in quick, clear soundbites. You snag the back of his vest before he can get too far away from you.

“As soon as you’re done with that, please get it looked at.”

With a sigh, he nods and gestures to your chin. “I will if you do.”

You roll your eyes.

“Where’s Emily?” You hear Morgan ask JJ as they get their bearings around you.

With a start, you follow them into the building, attached to a couple of SWAT agents. You know Aaron will get after you for going in before everything’s cleared by bomb squad, but you can’t keep still.

The heartache you feel for JJ supersedes anything else going on in your head. It’s something that plagues you all the time - the both of you doing this job. Losing Aaron in the field is a stark reality you can hardly consider at any point, especially when evidence of its reality is right in front of you.

+++

Aaron can’t help himself - he pulls you close after you’re both released by the paramedics, pressing a kiss to your head. It’s almost desperate as he leans back and pulls your collar from your vest, his hands smoothing over your shoulders.

“I need to debrief SWAT and first responders - can you stay with Dave and help with the media?”

“Okay. Let me know if you need any extra hands - I’ll send ‘em right over.”

He smiles at you, soft, small, and affectionate. “Thank you.”

+++

You pull your phone from your pocket.

She picks up on the second ring. “Yeah?”

“Hey, Jess.”

“Hey.” She pauses. “You okay?”

With a shaky sigh, you reply. “Yeah. I’m fine. Aaron’s fine.”

“I heard about the explosion. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, we’re fine. Just...Just stay out of the city.” After another breath. “Is Jack okay?”

She laughs a little. “Yeah. He’s fine. He’s a little anxious but I turned off the TV and we’re headed out to the park for a little while.”

“Good.” You look over at Aaron, who holds your eyes for a second before returning to his EMS strategy huddle.

“Be safe and come home to us soon, okay?”

“Yeah. We will. We love you. Tell Jack we -”

“ - Of course.”

+++

You follow Spencer through the debris once you’re done handling the media storm with Dave. Picking through the rubble, searching for something - anything - but not finding much.

Derek’s voice echoes through the ruined, cavernous space that used to be the main lobby. “Everything they've said and done was for a reason. But what doesn't make any sense is she switched the negotiation demand. Chris wanted to go to Switzerland. She changed it to Chad.”

“They also requested a private plane,” you note, “but no mention of a pilot.”

Spencer stops, and you almost run into him. Emily stops as well, looking back at the pair of you as Spencer organizes his thoughts. When he’s ready to speak, he says, “Guys, if you think about it, even the dates mean something. In 2004, while she was wreaking havoc abroad, he was dishonorably discharged. Then in 2008, they likely met in Chad. And now this in 2012.”

Good thought. But then again, when is one of Spencer’s thoughts bad?

It’s a decent enough question, and you run the gamut of all the surprising and absurd things Spencer’s said in your presence over the years. One in particular comes to mind.

Evil twin, eviler twin.

You hold back a little laugh, despite the harrowing circumstances.

Yeah, that one was pretty bad.

“Okay.” Derek grabs your attention again. “So, is it a coincidence that those are all election years and they attacked D.C.? Maybe this is a political statement.”

Emily’s eyes are stuck on something on the ground, but you’re not sure if it’s what she’s really looking at. “No. It's more personal than that. It's their story.”

Derek’s brow pinches. “What?”

“All of the details are a part of their story.”

She starts to leave through one of the shattered windows and you follow her back to the trailer, Spencer and Derek not far behind. She hops up the steps and you take your place beside Aaron once you’re all inside. It’s much cozier in here, with eight of you.

Spencer fills the rest of the team in on your conversation inside. Unsurprisingly, it’s rote - read like a cold script.

Emily picks up when he’s done. “Their timeline suggests they were both destructive before they met.”

“So we're talking about ex-military turning on their country.” Strauss looks and sounds skeptical, but you can’t blame her. In American culture, it’s rather incongruous.

Now who sounds like Spencer?

“It's rare, but soldiers become disenfranchised no matter what the nationality. And if he met someone like-minded at that time, there'd be no stopping them.”

“So you're thinking they met during the civil unrest in Chad in '08.” Aaron’s voice isn’t skeptical - more probing. You can see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” Spencer says. “And one or both of them are pilots.”

“So if Garcia concentrates on that region,” Emily points to an area on a map, lit up on the monitor, “specifically weapons running in and out of Libya, there's a good chance we'll find their paths crossed.”

Penelope types furiously for a moment, her fingers flying over the keys. “Okay, multiple entries into Libya for a private pilot named Matthew Downs in '08, but I don't have her name.”

“Well, because she had aliases. It's the only way to stay a ghost.”

Looks like Emily’s Interpol knowledge is coming in handy.

She continues. “Here's the thing - they are a couple. Regardless of what we believe of them, they will celebrate themselves and their connection.” She turns to Penelope, a thought sparking behind her eyes. “Is there anything that happened on this date in Chad?”

“Oh, you are good, Emily Prentiss.” Penelope types for a moment and you lean forward, watching her work. “But this news is not. Yes, there were multiple explosions on this date in '08.”

Aaron speaks from beside you. He’s a little closer than you thought, and it startles you a little.

In fairness, you’re still jumpy from the explosion.

“Where were the most casualties?”

“At a church-- no, no, a train. Yep.”

Morgan squints at the photos of the hulled-out building. “Semtex and C-4?”

Penelope nods while Aaron turns toward Strauss. “Are trains still arriving at Union Station?”

“Yes, but only the authorities are allowed in.” There’s a moment where she almost looks panicked, but collects herself as the rest of you gear up to leave.

Emily exhales down her nose. “That’s why they needed Will.”

+++

Aaron drives impossibly fast through the district. You sit in the back seat with Emily, holding onto the handles above the door for dear life.

You’ve never flashed your badge so many times in such a short period. Aaron tucked his badge into a strap of his vest, just to save time, but still has his credentials locked between his fingers as he drives. If you didn’t trust him so much, it would freak you out a little.

+++

The comm in your ear crackles as Emily speaks. “I found Will.”

“Is he mobile?” Aaron’s voice comes both from beside you and your comm - it’s a little disorienting, but you push through.

“Negative. He's got 6 transmitters on him and this whole place is gonna blow.”

There’s hardly a hesitation in Aaron’s steps as he processes the information. “All right, where are you? I'm on my way.”

He’d like to think he’s made of steel.

Sometimes he is.

“No,” Emily asserts. “You gotta get everyone out. Is the bomb squad here yet?”

“They're 3 minutes away.”

“Copy.” She sounds a little disappointed, or maybe frustrated, but doesn’t say anything else.

He turns back to you, holding you by the shoulders. “I want you leading evacuation. Get out of here.”

Tears prick at your eyes and honestly, this is the first moment you’ve really been afraid. Existentially afraid. Afraid of walking out of this train station and leaving Aaron and Emily and Will to blow up. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yep. Go.” He tries to push you away, but you resist.

“Promise?”

His brown eyes soften as his mouth presses into a thin line. “Can’t. I love you. Get outta here.”

You bounce on your toes for a second, acutely aware you’re wasting valuable time, before yanking him forward to kiss his cheek before you sprint away from him, shouting instructions to the panicked crowd as you go.

+++

You catch up with Derek, racing to catch your suspect. He corners him in an alley but can’t quite overpower him. You reach for your sidearm, but by the time you take aim, Downs is already on the ground, a gunshot ringing through the air.

Startled, you turn over your shoulder to find Aaron still staring down the sight of his Glock.

Could take an eye out, with that thing.

You sigh and holster your weapon. Derek looks plenty dazed and you don’t blame him. It’s not often he’s on the receiving end of a near-miss in close combat. He looks over your shoulder and you can see something pass between him and Aaron.

Maybe one day, Derek will know how much Aaron loves and respects him.

You watch Derek shake it off and stumble as he attempts to rise to his feet.

Today is not that day.

Coming to your senses, you trot forward and help him to his feet, brushing wayward asphalt off of him. You turn back to Aaron. “Everything alright?”

He ignores you, pressing the mic at his chest as he begins to run back toward the station. “Prentiss, what’s your status?”

+++

Seeing Will and Emily leave the building in one piece is a relief. You meet Aaron’s gaze and his eyes are exhausted. The gears in his head still whir. He’s still in game-mode, and it’s a good thing.

With the logistical nightmare of two bomb threats in one day, there’s a lot of work ahead of you.

+++

You swing back and forth in your desk chair, brain completely numb from the paperwork. It’s been a long day, and you’ve been up since three this morning, what with your flight back from California. You’re certain you’ve had longer days than this one, but you’re approaching twenty-one hours without sleep and it feels worse than you remember.

What were we planning to do today?

A bike ride and museum day with Jack seems impossibly long ago. Last week, maybe.

Derek and Emily sit on their desks, attempting to keep a conversation going without much luck.

They were house-hunting this morning.

Penelope slowly descends the stairs as Spencer turns in his seat. “The convention’s still happening tomorrow if you want to go.”

They were at a convention this morning.

Everyone had lives this morning. Weird.

She makes an uncertain noise. “That whole city-on-the-brink-of-destruction thing kinda took the wind out of my sails, you know?”

You look up at her as she takes her place beside Spencer. “It’ll get you every time.”

“You gotta watch out for that,” Emily adds. It makes you smile a little.

Derek looks a little less amused, reminding Emily they’ll have to finish the inspection another time. Between Spencer and Penelope, Emily cops to a crack in the foundation of her almost-home.

“That does not sound good,” Penelope says. You can’t help but agree.

There’s a weird look on Derek’s face, but you ignore it in favor of Strauss’s descent on the stairs.

“Our unsub,” she says, “is Izzy Rogers. She'll be charged with multiple counts domestically, and our international counterparts will have their turn with her. She will never see the light of day.” A little smile graces her lips.

You realize with the tiniest of laughs (really - it’s a one on the Aaron Hotchner scale of laugher, which means it’s hardly noticeable to the naked eye) that you don’t hate her or even dislike her as much as you used to. Maybe, you even want her around.

Don’t push it.

“I just thought you'd like to know that.”

The five of you murmur something that sounds like, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pulls Derek, probably to kick his ass for something or another and send herself back on your shit list.

That’s a problem for another time.

You take Izzy Rogers’s file from Emily, looking over an impressive rap sheet. You’re happy for a few things.

The first - that Aaron’s not a federal prosecutor anymore. This’ll be a case for the ages.

The second - you’ll never have to think about her again.

The third - you’re not sure. You’re sleep-deprived. It’ll come to you.

She cost me my precious eight hours and I’ll never forgive her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Aaron leave his office. You set the file down and look up at him, halfway-hoping for once he’ll tell you to go home without him.

“Dave wants to know if everyone is free tomorrow night.”

Without any inflection at all, you reply. “We better not be doing anything tomorrow night.”

“Well,” Derek says, interrupting Emily’s snort. “If he’s buying, then I’m definitely in.”

Emily, Spencer, and Penelope jump onto Derek’s conditional acceptance and a rare smile pulls at Aaron’s face, his dimples on full display.

“Hear that? We’re in.”

+++

When you get home, Aaron all-but carries you to bed. With the tenderest of hands, he removes your shoes and socks, unbuttons your pants, slides them down your legs, and throws them in the laundry basket.

You’re practically wilting where you sit, feeling more and more like a sleepy toddler by the minute.

Aaron unbuttons your shirt and slips it off your shoulders, kissing each cheek in turn. “I’ll start a shower.”

You move to protest, but he strips and that mostly shuts you up. He starts the water before he returns to your side.

“I just want to sleep, Aar. Please.”

“Baby,” he says, a fond little pleading note in his tone. “We just changed the sheets. Do you really want to get semtex all over them?”

With a huff - “No.”

He smiles and helps you to your feet. “Didn’t think so.”

You’re so tired, it doesn't even cross your mind to take advantage of the shared shower or his lack of clothes. By the time he dries you off, tucks you in, and locks the bedroom door to ward off the over-eager six-year-old down the hall, you’re asleep.

His own exhaustion pulling at him, he doesn’t have the time or energy to cherish how peaceful, safe, and warm you look. He just draws you close to him until he can feel your heartbeat.

Sleep takes him rapidly after that.

+++

As Will and JJ exchange their vows, you tuck further into Aaron’s arms. His whisper floats past your ear, barely audible. “Wanna do that sometime?”

“What? Get married?” Your voice is just as quiet.

“Mhmm.”

“Only if it’s you.”

There’s a kiss pressed to your temple with a smile behind it. “I think I can make that happen.”

You turn your head to the side to keep your snark from carrying. “Please don’t propose to me right now. This weekend’s been long enough.”

Derek kicks the side of your foot from where he stands beside you, unable to hear the conversation but knowing you both well enough to keep you from tumbling down the rabbit hole of distraction.

Aaron presses another kiss to your temple. “I love you.” You feel it rather than hear it.

You pick up one of his hands and kiss the back of it. You don’t need to say anything.

+++

Aaron holds you close as you dance together, surrounded by your family. JJ and Will sway back and forth nearby, wrapped entirely in each other. Erin and Dave have been surprisingly brave, dancing and laughing quietly together throughout the evening.

As nice as it was to just have something for the two of you, sharing your love with your family has its own set of perks. You don’t have to hide anymore or justify your pigheaded protection of the other.

You can just… be.

+++

Eventually, Dave calls all the “...fortunately unmarried individuals to the dance floor,” and refuses to let anyone slip through the cracks.

When Aaron hangs back, drink in-hand and a little smile on his face, Dave calls him out. “Divorcés and widowers, too, c’mon.” He pauses, finding another tactic when Aaron doesn’t move. “If you’re both, you get extra points!”

Aaron rolls his eyes and you look around, finding an inappropriate amount of humor in JJ’s confused relatives. You can’t help but bark a loud laugh when you see how hard Derek’s trying to keep his mirth at bay.

Too soon for the dead wife jokes? He seems to ask. Can I laugh?

Something in your eyes gives him tacit permission and he nearly blinds you with his smile.

When Dave’s tricks fall short, you do your best to pull Aaron from the sideline with your best set of bedroom eyes. He courageously resists, so you give up and settle next to Anderson. “What do you think Dave’s come up with, this time?”

“God only knows.”

Anderson, like the rest of you, knows that Dave’s hosting abilities know no bounds.

“Because so many of you are joyfully unmarried, the newlyweds wanted to make sure there was someone else to suffer the slings and arrows of matrimony with them in the near future. Thus,” he opens his arm to JJ, who appears with her bouquet and a smile, “the bouquet toss will be an equal-opportunity event.”

With a laugh and a shake of your head, you prepare to duck out of the way.

You look over at Aaron. This is ridiculous.

He only shakes his head, hiding his smile behind his drink. And yet…

He leaves the rest of the implication unsaid, but you flip him off for good measure. Your exchange must have taken longer than you thought because before you know it, you have a face full of white roses. It’s over.

You pull the flowers from your face and level JJ with a glare across the dance floor. “Really?”

She raises her eyebrows and shrugs. “I turned my back and everything.”

There are whoops and hollers from your team and you can only roll your eyes. Derek and Will strong-arm Aaron onto the dance floor (you know he let them - if he really wanted to avoid you, they wouldn’t be able to move him an inch), where you’re both cajoled into a kiss and a photo. Penelope’s on the other side of the camera, grinning from ear to ear.

She waves at Aaron over the camera. “Smile for real, damn you!”

She amends, adding, “Sir,” for good measure. It has its intended effect and she’s rewarded with a rare, bright laugh from her unit chief.

Absurd traditions aside, you’d be lying if said you stopped smiling even once.

+++

As the party settles, some couples stay out on the dance floor, sedately twirling and swaying to the music that continues to play across the yard.

You and Aaron have relaxed significantly since the Great Bouquet Debacle, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. You’re sitting across his lap, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, with one of his arms wrapped around your middle and the other draped over your knees - the picture of relaxation.

Penelope, Derek, Emily, and Will have taken up residence on the other side of the dance floor, their heads close together and voices low.

Aaron’s eyes slide over them as he watches the room, scanning out of habit. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

You lean further into him as four pairs of eyes flicker over to you before returning to their huddle. “Us, probably.”

He hums, understanding and pensive. “Probably our sex life, right?”

“Probably,” you sigh, playing at boredom. He covers your hand with one of his and you play with his fingers - lacing, unlacing, kissing his knuckles.

It’s nice to feel safe, comfortable enough to love each other where curious eyes can see you.

You can feel his smile against your forehead as he presses a kiss between your brows.

“I mean,” you continue, “there is a lot to talk about.”

He shrugs, adjusting his arm where it lays across your legs to keep you both comfortable in the seat you share. “That’s true enough. Though, I can’t imagine any of their projections being right.”

+++

“I bet they’re into like…tantric sex. Like hours and hours and hours you know?” Penelope says, conspiracy the top note in her tone.

Derek looks at her and she backtracks, only a little on the defensive.

“What? Spencer’s talked to me about it before and I...read.”

He rolls his eyes, but Emily spares Penelope from any further interrogation.

“I could see that.” She watches the way your fingers wander over Aaron’s bare forearm, playing with the ridges of his watch, the way his thumb absent-mindedly draws small circles on your outer thigh. “Yeah, actually I think that’s exactly what happens.”

+++

“What do you think they’ve got so far?”

He plays at boredom. “They’re probably trying to take a guess at anything they can reach - with both of our profiles in Derek’s pocket, he’s going to have the most luck, I think.”

“Really?” You ask. “Not Emily?”

He snorts. “No. She has her mind on other things.”

That holds you up for a second, and you’re not sure if he’s still playing into the bit. “Wait, what do you mean?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later.”

“She’s resigning, isn’t she?” You give up the fun and lay your head in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

Without thinking, his hand rises to your cheek, affectionately brushing over your cheekbone before dropping back down. “She might be.”

“Did she do that thing where she sighs really big and then looks off to the upper right middle distance?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, just enjoying the low lull of the music and the lights and the sights and smiles of your family.

“Hey.”

You lean back a little and meet Aaron’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“What’s my tell?”

The concern drops out of your face all at once. “You think I’m gonna spill just like that so you can go and change it on me? Not a chance.”

He sighs and his chin tips up in defeat. “So I have one?”

“Of course you do, stupid.” You flick his chest and a laugh rumbles through him. “Everyone does. You know mine, I know yours. You’re gonna have to get over it.”

“So you’ve caught me in lies before?” He asks, not without humor.

“Duh. I’m pretty sure I’ve caught every lie you’ve ever told, but you seemed so proud of yourself that I just let you have it.”

You can almost feel the eye roll. “Really?” He sounds skeptical. “Name one lie you’ve caught me in.”

“Alright.” You count off on your fingers. “You dinged my car door a couple of weeks ago, you definitely didn’t drop the bags at Goodwill, you do know it wasn’t Jack who finished the ice cream in the freezer, you -”

“Okay.” He covers your hands with his and kisses your fingers. “That’s enough. I get it.”

You kiss his cheek. “I’m sure you’ve caught me in every single lie I’ve ever told, too, huh?”

“Only every once since the day we met. Yours is obvious.”

It’s a trap. You don’t take it. “Hmm. That’s convenient.”

“Isn’t it?”

You lean back to look at him. “You’re a shit, you know that?”

He nods and raises his eyebrows, a cheeky, close-mouthed smile slowly creeping across his face.

You playfully smack his chest with the back of your hand. “Fucker.”

He says something under his breath and you level him with a look that has him repeating himself.

“I said, you wish.”

You roll your eyes and tuck back into his neck, kissing the skin above his collar. You can feel him shiver and you know you’ve got him. “Not just wish, honey. Know.”

+++

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fanficbitch · 3 years

Text

In Another Life // First Time Babysitting

October 2008

It’s been pretty obvious that Hotch has been under a lot of stress. Every night he is here later and later and I know it’s killing him. That’s why I’ve taken it upon myself to offer my babysitting duties. I would’ve offered a long time ago, but things haven’t smooth sailing between us the whole time I’ve been here. A lot of the nights at the BAU, Hotch and I are the last ones here. Hotch is here because he actually has stuff to do. I’m here because I am guilty of being a suck up and doing extra work. Tonight is the same.

It’s finally time that I gather up my things and after I do, I stop by Hotch’s office. I knock twice on the door and then he answers. “Come in,” he calls.

I push the door open. “Hey Hotch,” I say.

“You’re still here?” he asks.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I’m always here,” he shrugs. “Anyway, can I help you with something?”

“Yes,” I say then move closer to his desk. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh no,” he sighs.

“No, no, it’s good,” I say. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been a little tired lately and have been here a little too much. So I wanted to offer my babysitting services.”

Hotch scoffs. “I’m not tired,” he says.

“Yes, you are,” I say. “And that’s nothing to be ashamed of. So I will babysit Jack while you take a nap or go grocery shopping or do whatever you want. Please? I want to help you.”

I can tell by his narrow eyes that he is thinking it over. He actually looks really handsome when he is intently thinking, but that’s not the point. “Deal. Tomorrow night?”

“Um, yeah. I can do that,” I say.

“Okay, I’ll let Haley know. You can meet her at my apartment. I’ll send you my address,” he says.

“I’ll be there!” I call as I leave his office

**********

Finding Hotch’s apartment was a lot harder than I thought, so I’m running late to babysitting. He lives in some complex on some side street in some part of DC that I’ve never heard of.

I finally land outside of his apartment and knock on the door. It takes a moment, but a blonde women opens the door with a smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N. You must be Haley,” I say as I shake her head.

“Yes, yes, come in,” she says and stands to the side. I step into the apartment and notice that it is pretty bare. I know Hotch just got divorced and recently moved, but other than that, I don’t know much. He must not have had time to decorate. “Thank you for coming to watch Jack. I sometimes need a break from mom duties,” Haley says.

“Oh, it’s no problem! Hotch has told me that Jack is such a great kid,” I say.

“He really is,” Haley assures me. “So, he’s already eaten and been bathed and is in his pajamas. So all you need to do is put him to bed in about an hour.”

“Sounds good,” I say.

“Jack!” Haley call. “Come in here!”

Within seconds, there are speedy steps that land right in front of Haley. It’s easy to recognize him because of all the pictures Hotch has in his office. “Jack, this is Y/N. She is going to hang out with you for a little bit.”

“Hi Jack, it’s so nice to meet you,” I tell him.

“Hi,” he says quietly. I notice that Jack is wearing a pajama set covered with trains.

“Your pajamas are so cool. Do you like trains?” I ask and he nods.

“Why don’t you show Y/N your trains?” Haley suggests and he nods. “Okay, bye buddy,” Haley says and wraps him in a hug then disappears out the door.

“Alright, let me see your trains,” I say and Jack takes my hand and leads me down the hall. We reach a room at the very end of the hall. Now, this is a room that is decorated. There are hand drawn pictures all over the walls and toys all over the floor. “Wow, Jack you are a really good artist,” I say as I look around the room. As I look, I notice Jack’s small bed covered with a soccer blanket and a bookshelf bursting with books.

“Here are my trains,” he says and goes to one of the toy bins. I look through them and begin to recognize some of them.

“Do you like Thomas the Train?” I ask and he nods. “Me too, I think he’s super cool.”

“Percy is my favorite,” he says then hands me a toy Percy.

“I think my favorite is James. He’s my favorite color.”

“My favorite color is green,” Jack says.

“I see a lot of your pictures have green in them,” I say as I look around the room again. “I also see you like soccer.”

“Yeah, I’m really good,” he says which causes me to laugh. “Daddy teaches me.”

I start to laugh again because the thought of Hotch playing soccer is just hilarious to me. “Alright, so what do you want to do? We can color, play with trains or-,” I say.

“Can we read a story?” Jack asks.

“Of course! Pick any book you want,” I say. Jack goes to the bookshelf and carefully selects a book that is large in his tiny hands. It’s If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. “Get comfortable,” I say as I pat the bed and he slips under the covers.

So we read that book, then another book, then another one until it finally got to eight o’clock and told him he had to go to bed.

“Please? One more?” Jack begs.

“I can’t. I don’t want to get in trouble with your Mommy and Daddy.”

“A secret,” he whispers. I sigh. I have to admit, he’s really cute so it’s hard to tell him no.

“How about this, we have a different secret that just the two of us know?”

“Okay,” he smiles. I hum for a moment in thought.

“Okay, here’s the secret,” I say then lean in. “Your daddy is the coolest dad in the world,” I whisper.

Jack giggles once I tell him. “Now, you can’t tell anyone. It’s our secret,” I say and he nods. “Okay, goodnight,” I say then stand up.

“Wait,” he says and I turn around. “I need a goodnight kiss.”

A kiss? I didn’t realize that babysitting required a kiss goodnight. I’ve never dealt with this before. I get down on my knees and press a kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight,” I whisper.

When I finally get out of the room I let out a sigh. That wasn’t so hard. I know every parent says that their child is well behaved, but Jack actually is well behaved. He really is a great kid.

I suddenly realize that I am basically alone in Hotch’s apartment. I know I should go sit on the couch and wait for him to come back. But, I can’t help but be a little curious.

There are only two other doors down the hallway. I take a guess with one and open it, but it’s just a bathroom. Due to my detective skills, I have deducted that the other room is Hotch’s bedroom. I carefully press the door open and turn on the light. I’m a little bit surprised even though I shouldn’t be. This is the most Hotch room that I have ever seen. There are two pillows on the bed and a grey comforter, a single nightstand with a lamp and a picture on it, and a dresser. There is no art on the wall or any decoration. Again, the most Hotch room I have ever seen.

I flick the light off and close the door just in time because the front door opens. I rush down the hall to see Hotch struggling with at least 10 bags of groceries. “Let me help you,” I say and take a few of the bags and set them on the kitchen counter.

“Thank you,” Hotch says breathlessly. “How was everything?”

“Easy peasy,” I say and Hotch smiles.

“Good, maybe I’ll have to call you more often,” he says.

“Honestly I’m free anytime,” I say. There is an awkward silence between us as we try to figure out what to do next.

“Well, I can’t offer much. But if you help me put these groceries away, I can offer you a glass of wine,” Hotch says.

“It’s a deal,” I say and begin to unpack the bags. “So you just went grocery shopping with your free time?”

“Yes, it was actually pretty fun,” he says and I laugh.

“Leave it to you to find grocery shopping fun,” I say as I place a bag of dino nuggets in the freezer.

“I take my alone time whenever I can get it. If it happens to be while grocery shopping, so be it.”

Within minutes, we get through the bags and once we’re finished I turn to Hotch. “So I’ll take one glass of wine please,” I smile.

Hotch pours each of us a glass then leads us to the couch. “Hotch, you got to let me do some decorating for you.”

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks.

“You need some color in here,” I say. “Have you seen Jack’s room? He knows how to decorate.”

“I guess I could put up a few pictures,” he says.

“You know what? I’ll buy you some art as a housewarming gift.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Hotch tells me.

“No, I want to do it,” I assure him. He gives me a small smile that I haven’t seen from him before. It’s nice.

Before I know it, we’ve both finished our wine.

“Well it’s getting late,” I say as I stand up from the couch.

“Again, thank you so much for watching Jack,” he says as he stands up too.

“Seriously anytime,” I smile in the doorway. I look him in his brown eyes a little longer than is appropriate. I jerk my head away then nod. “Okay, see you at work!”

“See you.”

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mirror-vicit-omnia · 3 years

Text

Uncle!Ardyn

Noctis' slighty-weird uncle who never ages and is down with murder.

· Surrounded by women and men at galas; we're talking SRO. Sits on a divan, fifth glass of champagne pinched in his fingers, flanked by beautiful people who fought for these seats.

· Tells the wildest tales. In our world, he would have suggested the original Ducati red, caused a kitchen fire in the Gritti Palace, and kissed Charlie Chapman on the cheek. Shook hands with Scarface, went into the Amazon, became the inspiration for Indiana Jones. And it would all be true.

· The kinda guy who kisses you on both cheeks and calls everyone “darling.”

· Ardyn makes people guess his age. No one outside the citadel knows the truth. No one inside the citadel is allowed to speak of him. No one who’s in on the truth is allowed to give it away. So Ardyn stares Regis down expectantly, like a predator, and King Regis of Insomnia sighs.

· “Forty-two?”

· “Wrong.”

· Regis rolls his eyes. They’re not in public, he can get away with it.)

· Plays the “because I’m older” card too often. Against Regis, too, of course!

· Is disappointed in Regis. The King never takes his sagely advice. Ardyn’s been around the block before, okay? Murder always works, foolproof solution to most of life’s problems.

· But the thirty-two year old brat just smiles politely and goes, “Thank you, Ardyn, I shall consider it,” and sends Niflheim a glorified fruit basket.

· No poison. No explosives. Ardyn checked.

· (At least they have Noctis. Ardyn wasn’t sure about his youngest nephew, so timid, especially after the death of his mother. He tried to coax Noct into playing tag or feeding alley cats, but the boy started sleeping through everything he could.

· Then King’s Knight became a thing, and the All-Uncle baited his nephew into teaching the basics.

· “You have to hit them with what they’re weak against.”

· Ah, hope, rekindled in his chest. It springs eternal. Maybe Insomnia isn’t doomed.)

· Not Dad Jokes- Uncle Jokes.

· (Dad Jokes cause cringing; Uncle Jokes leaves scars no one can see.

· They get worse as you age. Like when King Regis randomly wondered about “If ‘A’ is for ‘apple’ and ‘B’ is for ‘banana,’ then what is ‘C’ for?” And then it clicked. A servant had to Heimlich the dinner steak out of his lungs.)

· At age five, Noctis was confused about what an uncle really was. He thought his dad’s uncle could be the same as his, but then young Ignis corrected him, and Noctis goes around the citadel asking everyone about their uncles. Then he goes into the citadel gardens where he knows he’ll find Ardyn, playing with a mallet and balls across the grass. Adults told him it’s called “croquet,” but they all sounded unsure. Out of the field his uncle set up, Noctis liked the windmill and giant cat sculptures the best. One day, he’ll be big enough to hold the mallet, and then he’ll be able to play the cat section, too.

· “Are you my uncle?” asks the prince. Ardyn sizes up the angle of the hard, heavy ball and makes a few experimental swings. He wacks it high into the air; it clacks off the nose of a plaster crocodile, rolls through a Rube Goldberg machine, sails over a mini castle, hits the turret, and lands in the moat.

· Ardyn tsks. “Right in the bunker- Yes, I am your uncle.”

· “Are you my dad’s brother?”

· “No.”

· “Ignis says an uncle is my dad’s brother.”

· “And how do you think, then, that I might be your uncle and your father’s uncle?”

· The prince thinks hard. Ardyn smiles fondly, swings the mallet over one shoulder, and pets Prince Noctis on the head, just the way he hates it. Noctis ducks and swipes at the hand.

· “Ah, little one. So much to learn.” Ardyn walks off to the sand trap. When Noctis stays put, he gives that “come along, now” wave.

· Always a delight to have at birthday parties. None of the adults invited him. Same with the galas.

(9/29/21)

And all this is somehow his middle finger to the gods. Everything he does every single day, big or small.

Anger turned outward is aggression. Anger turns inward is depression. Anger turns sideways is Arden forging the king's signature to have the world's greatest slip and slide water park installed onto the side, the south side which faces a lovely sunset, of the citadel. All for noctis, who doesn't really want it. No one's really sure what Arden is attempting to achieve with this. Maybe just to give Regis a headache.

#Weird Uncle!Ardyn #ardyn lucis caelum #ardyn ffxv #Adryn #but he doesn't suck #total self-indulgence #someone else had this idea and I like it #just for funsies #my post #my writing

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dallasurr · 3 years

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“There’s No War in Salineas”

Today I woke up, got stoned and immediately word vomited this She-Ra/ATLA Crossover, thank u for ur time

Salineas is the tropical Water Tribe kingdom, separate from the North and South, located off of the western coast of the Earth Kingdom.

Mermista is their non-bending leader after her parents passed away from an illness that causes chronic pain and attacks the nervous system. The disease is genetic and was passed on to her, so she doesn’t leave the safety of the Salinean Castle and her Guard (essentially this version of Dai-Lee agents). Every single morning she undergoes healing treatment to help comfort her (it’s actually Chi-blocking because she was born a waterbender and her Guard want to protect her from the fire nation). With the treatment happening so often, she has less stamina and is weaker than she should be.

Team Avatar consists of Avatar Adora, a newly-realized Avatar from the air nation, which was wiped out after she was kidnapped at a young age and raised in the Fire Nation alongside the Fire Princess, Catra. Glimmer, her Earthbending master, and Bow, a strong archer who grew up with Glimmer.

Team Avatar decides to try to go to Salineas to find a waterbending master since it’s much closer than the North or South Pole. Sea Hawk is a young Sea Captain who overhears that they are looking for a Waterbending Master and offers to take them to Salineas because he grew up with Princess Mermista who was a formidable Waterbender at a young age, surely by now she was a master or knew one. Unfortunately, the fire nation burned down his last ship and he would need help acquiring a new one. So they steal a ship and set sail to Salineas. As they approach the island, Glimmer is like, “wait, why are you avoiding their actual docks, why are you landing on this random beach” and Sea Hawk explains that technically he’s banned from Salineas for trying to break into the castle.

See, his family was displaced from Salineas after the Fire Nation attack that killed Mermista’s parents. He KNEW Mermista was still alive because over the last decade or so he’s managed to break into the castle half a dozen times, and even managed to talk to her, but there was something wrong going on. Mermista didn’t remember him.

Cue Glimmer: “Are you sure you’re not just insane? Why are we believing this dude!?”

Bow, whose non-bender dads helped Wan Shi Tong maintain the Spirit Library and keep it safe, remembers reading about techniques that could be used to alter memories and make people more susceptible to coercion. Bow explains all of this to them and they’re a little less suspicious of Sea Hawk, who insists that he genuinely just wants to reunite with his childhood friend and make sure that she’s safe.

#She-Ra #avatar the last airbender #SPOP #Crossover #Glimmer #Mermista #Sea Hawk #Seamista #Bow #Adora

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rebelwrites · 3 years

Text

What Happens In Vegas - Part Six

Clay Spenser x Reader

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

Clay Spenser Masterlist

This Months Writing

“For fuck sake, just stop pacing,” Danny laughed, slamming his hands on your shoulders, bringing you to a stop.

“I feel like I should be at base waiting for Clay,” you mumbled, “Like I should be there.”

“Just take a breath kiddo,” Danny said, kissing the top of your head, “Clay knows you are helping set up for the bbq tonight, so stop stressing.”

“I guess you are right,” you mumbled, “I still feel bad for not being there though.”

“What happened to what stays in Vegas, stays in Vegas?” Danny teased, “but things look like they are getting serious now.”

“Things change obviously,” you laughed, “I mean it’s only been two months and it hasn’t been easy, especially with him getting deployed for the last three weeks, but you and Jade managed with the Navy life.”

“It’s just good to see you so happy again,” Jade smiled walking into the kitchen.

“It’s good to be happy again,” you grinned, grabbing a drink out of the fridge. “Apparently I thought I knew what love was with Alex, but boy was I wrong, that wasn’t love.” You said, leaning against the counter, pulling your phone out, smiling at your lock screen just as a text came through from a blocked number, your smile instantly growing as it was a picture message of Clay and Cerb sitting on the plane with the caption of “I’m coming home to you Babygirl”

“Guessing he has just managed to get a text though?” Danny laughed, nudging your shoulder.

“Why would you think that?” You laughed, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

“The fact your smile just grew at least twice as big,” he winked, “now come on back to work we got shit to do.”

The hours had passed and you couldn’t sit still, not until the boys were here. You were currently on your fourth beer, trying to bite your tongue at some of the comments your mum was making. Also you were trying not to smash the bottle of beer over Amanda’s face as well, you had no idea why she was here but it was getting on your nerves.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw the back door open and the flash of camo. Spinning around to make sure you weren’t seeing things, the moment your eyes landed on the boys, you dropped your beer bottle, running towards Clay who had now turned to face you.

The moment you were close enough, you jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist hugging him tight.

“I missed you babygirl,” he hummed against your lips before kissing you softly.

“I missed you too,” you giggled, resting your forehead against his, as he placed his cap on your head.

“Move out of the way love birds, there’s cold beer calling my name,” Jase laughed, winking as he walked past the two of you.

“You gonna let me put you down?” Clay laughed as he managed to walk over to everyone.

“Nope, I’ve missed out on cuddles so I’m making up for it now,” you giggled.

“You just have to rub it in our faces don’t you?” Amanda spat, “we get you’ve moved on, but do you need to rub it in my face! Whilst my poor son is home trying to get over a broken heart you are here playing house with a Seal.”

“First of all bitch,” you spat, climbing of Clay’s lap, “you aren’t even welcome here so I have no idea why the fuck you are here!” You hissed.

“Your mum invited me,” Amanda said.

“Of course she did,” you laughed. “But secondly your precious son is lying to you, he doesn’t have a broken heart, he was the one that decided to fucking cheat on me, he was the one to verbally abuse me every single day, he was the one who made me quit my job and controlled all the money so I had to fucking ask for shit!” You screamed, balling your fists up.

“That wasn’t my son,” Amanda gasped at what she was hearing.

“Oh I forgot you don’t know the actual reasons behind the divorce!” You laughed, “yeah Alex wasn’t all sunshine and fucking rainbows, he was a controlling and manipulative bastard.”

“You are just making shit up now,” you Mum snapped, “Just like your father used to. Always knew you’d turn out just like him, always needed the attention to be on you.”

“Don’t you dare bring Dad into this,” you growled “he was a good man and you fucking know it. You just can’t bare to see me fucking happy, you never have.”

“Think what you want, you are just a spoiled little girl who throws a fit whenever things don’t go her way,” Amanda laughed, “If my son cheated on you then I can see why!”

“Do you know what, fuck all of you,” you screamed, as hot tears streamed down your cheeks. “Y’all got what you wanted right? You wanted to see me so broken you could manipulate me, well you fucking won! So Congratu-fucking-lations!”

“Sis, calm down,” Jade said, placing her hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged her off.

“But now I’m sorry, because this ship has fucking sailed,” you screamed “if you want to be a part of my life you’re gonna have to fucking prove it to me,” you were shaking from the anger running through your body, you felt Clay stand behind you, showing that he was there. “Nobody gets a fucking free pass anymore.”

“See again with the dramatics,” mum laughed.

“Shut the fuck up mum,” Jade spat, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“You want my trust? Earn it!” You yelled, “you want my respect? Fucking earn it!! You want my fucking love, time and energy? Fucking earn it! Nobody gets to ride this ride for fucking free anymore.”

Things had been bottled up for so long now, it felt good to finally let it all out, and stand up for yourself.

“So congratu-fucking-lations to every single one of you who got their ticket, and then decided to rip up the fucking ticket! You wanted this?” You screamed, throwing your beer bottle at the wall “Well you fucking got it.”

“Hey,” Clay whispered, as he span you around so you were facing him and wrapped his arms around you, “Do you wanna get out of here babygirl?”

You didn’t speak, you just nodded against his chest, feeling him kiss the top of your head.

“I hope you are happy?” Clay spat at your mum, “She is your own daughter and this is how you treat her! Don’t make any contact with her again, she doesn’t need this or you!”

“Clay,” Jade said softly.

“Yeah?” He asked, looking at your sister.

“Boxing helps,” she nodded, “I don’t know if it’s worth a try.”

“Thank Jade,” Clay nodded before scooping you up into his arms. “Come on babygirl, let’s get you out of here.”

@chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995 @supervalcsi @talicat713 @disasterfandoms @bravo-four-seal-team @jasonbabymama @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lotsoflovefromlea @seik-o @velvetcardiganbucky @phoenixhalliwell @pancakeisreading @itsonautopilot @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @softi92 @abby-splace

#clay spenser #clay spenser x reader #clay spenser imagine #seal team #seal team x reader #seal team imagine

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lunarliza · 4 years

Text

Dirty Little Secret | Chapter One: Blankets

fuckbuddy!JJ x Kook!Reader

You and JJ are fuck buddies- strictly physical. But what happens when you find yourself falling more and more for everyone’s favorite golden boy even though all he can see you as is a spoiled rich girl?

You stared at the ticking clock among the sea of giggling preppy girls. Time had to be running in reverse. There was no way you still had an hour left.

“Alright ladies, let’s now form a single-file line and practice our curtsies,” the cotillion instructor, Linda, ordered. The over-privileged girls hurried to the end of the ballroom, one carelessly stepping over your foot. “Ouch!”

You glared at their backs and non-existent asses as they scurried, being the last one to sulk to your place behind a tall girl named Caroline. The leggy blonde snickered and leaned back slightly once everyone got into formation.

“You look like a beat up mule,” she joked.

You snorted and got on your tip-toes, muttering into her ear. “If I hear the words ‘prim and proper’ one more time, I might actually vomit on the spot.”

You both peered over to Linda who was busy adjusting some of the girls in the front with her annoying pointer stick. It was only a matter of time before she would eventually get to you and criticize, well, everything. Your posture, clothes, hair, attitude.

“If you do,” Caroline added, “make sure to get it all on Delilah in the front left. She totally swiped me for runner-up Miss Teen North Carolina last year.”

You chuckled and shook your head.

Caroline was probably the only thing getting you through these treacherous debutante lessons. She was your typical tall, thin socialite with a Benz and Prada collection to match. Ironically, you guys had more in common than one would think- hating just about every single girl in the room. It may be for different reasons, but the principle was there. Caroline was as competitive as they come and always had to be the center of attention, not that it was hard given her model height.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about becoming a high woman in society- evident in your ability to show up 20 minutes late to each lesson and royally screw up the dance number each chance you got. Caroline admired your talent of not giving a fuck and took a liking to you after you posed non-threatening to her spotlight.

You faked yawned and checked the clock once more.

“Alright I’ve had enough.” You held out your hand to Linda, causing the pageant girl in front of you to wrinkle her perfectly threaded brows. “Linda, I need to use the restroom,” you announced nonchalantly as everyone’s beetle eyes punctured you.

“Very well y/n,” the monotonous instructor answered with her thin-framed glasses hanging on her beak nose.

“See ya next week,” you sneakily whispered to Caroline. You proceeded to hop out of line, snatch your canvas bag at the entrance, and whisk out the door and into the busy street before anyone could see.

It was 3 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon. Your ferry left in an hour, and til then, you were ready to wander around the streets of Chapel Hill.

-----------------------------

“How were lessons today?” your mother asked, taking a sip of her 1999 Vineyard Merlot before setting the glass on the black marble table.

“Fine,” you answered, picking at the halibut on your plate.

Her glasses were perched at the bridge of her nose as she scrolled through items on an iPad. You silently glanced over to your little sister, Macy, who slid her green beans onto your plate and threw you a thankful grin.

“What did you go over?” your stepdad, Ted, asked half-heartedly as he scrolled through his phone.

“Uh, we did some curtsies and practiced the dance,” was all you cared to mention as you munched on your sister’s veggies.

“That’s funny,” your mother lifted her eyes from the screen, “because Linda called and said you went to the restroom and mysteriously disappeared. And you were late.” Her tone was much more adamant at the second part, but your face stayed cool as you took another bite of the awful fish.

“There was backup when I left the ferry,” you lied and your mother rolled her eyes, tossing the iPad onto the table.

“Y/n, you need to take this seriously. Ted spent weeks trying to get you into those debutante lessons and we’re paying a fortune for Linda alone!”

“It’s not my fault she has a stick up her ass just like everyone else there,” you countered. Your mom was seconds away from fuming, so you decided to add a little extra fuel. “Also someone stepped on my foot with their heel so I had to rest it or else I wouldn’t be able to properly do the dance.”

“Enough of this, y/n,” your mother snapped at your terrible sarcasm. Macy and Ted stopped eating and watched you both with hints of concern. You didn’t understand why it was so startling to them. It was just any other Thursday evening with your mom if you were being honest.

“If I get another call from Linda, we’re taking away your keys.”

“Take them,” you said, stepping up from your chair and towards the kitchen. You tossed the half-eaten food into the trash and stuffed the plate into the dishwasher. “Not like I have anywhere better to be on this God-awful island.”

You rushed to your room upstairs and kicked the door shut behind you. You sank into your bed, face first, and let out the longest, dreadful groan into the comforter.

This was your life now. After almost a year, you would think that you’d adjust to this pretentious Kook life, but it only made you feel more stranded than ever. It started when your real parents announced their divorce a few years back. Both yours and Macy’s hearts shattered at the news. Your family lived perfectly in a tiny home until you turned thirteen. Your dad- the one who taught you how to ride a bike, swim, fish, and play poker- got a new job where he would go overseas for months on end. You hated not being able to see him and your mom hated it even more- enough to leave him. Your mom ended up taking full custody of you and Macy. Soon after, she met money-bags Ted, and, before you knew it, your bags were sealed packed as you sailed away to a fancy new home along Figure Eight complete with housekeepers, a pool, and etiquette lessons. It was supposed to be this “better lifestyle” your mother tried to paint into your head- but you saw right through it. No matter how green the grass or white the fence, you still felt like you were being locked up on an island you had no interest in exploring.

Making new friends was also a hassle- first coming in as a high school sophomore, and then not knowing how to engage in Kook-speak with the others. It’s not your fault you weren’t well-versed in luxury cars and handbags. You had one or two friends, but spent most of your days alone. It was well past midnight when you caught yourself drowning in your own self-loathing thoughts. A sudden tap on your window startled you as you turned to find a familiar blonde boy struggling to lift the glass. You watched, unimpressed, as he finally got it open enough to slide his lean body in and land straight onto your window seat.

“You’re late again, JJ,” you said, getting up to lock your door.

“Phone died and there’s a guard on duty, so I had to come in through the long way,” JJ stated, plopping himself comfortably on your bed.

He wore his usual fit- dark cargo shorts and a navy button-up with hardly anything buttoned. He reeked of weed and seawater, wearing a sleazy grin on his face. You wanted to swipe it off. Cocky bastard.

“For the last time,” you retorted, kicking his feet off your white blankets, “no shoes on my fucking bed.”

“I love when you talk dirty to me,” JJ snarkily replied as he slipped off his boots.

This was JJ: your fuck buddy. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly why you were involved with this delinquent of a boy, but he was enough piss off your mom and Ted- not that you would ever tell them. You didn’t know what it was about him, but causally sleeping with JJ made you feel more in control of your life. So, once or twice a week, you two would meet up, do the deed, and go your separate ways without a word. No strings, no feelings, hell, not even a friendship. And not a single soul knew. You both understood the terms of your agreement and will stand by it until the day you both die. “Are you just gonna stand there and stare or are we gonna get to clapping cheeks? I don’t have all night dude,” JJ nagged, interrupting you from your thoughts.

You flipped him off. “If someone showed up during their regularly scheduled time, I would have had a lot more energy.” You peeled off your cropped tee to reveal a lacy black bralette and climbed into his lap. His hands cupped the globes of your ass before sliding them into your shorts, mouth connecting with your neck.

“Let’s make this quick,” he added between short breaths, “I have to meet some friends in an hour.”

-----------------------------

chapter two

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eugene-not-flynn · 3 years

Text

chanteur depths

title: chanteur depths

word count: 1762

Warnings: drowning and peril (or the belief that someone is), siren-like creatures, eugene cries, almost throwing yourself overboard, Varian angst/emotional whump, Eugene angst/emotional whump, unedited.

Summary: Eugene had heard rumors and stories. None of them prepared him for what he’d hear sailing through the Chanteur Depths. He has a strong will. He also has a breaking point. Eugene-centric New Dream fic (with some platonic Team Awesome + Lance content in the beginning).

A/N: this was supposed to be a short textpost and then my brain went “hey, lets make it a fic right this very moment”. So have this. I wrote it in one sitting in an unexpected burst of inspiration and did not edit it. I may go back and edit it, but that day was not today. Hope you enjoy it anyway!

The wood of the ship creaks with the waves, and Eugene squints up at the darkening sky. Slate gray clouds block the early evening sun from view so effectively it’s nearly dark, and the ship tilts with the crest of an angry wave. Eugene’s hands tighten around the rope he’s holding to keep the sail steady, his gut rolling with discomfort.

He was not a sailor by trade, but he’d been on a ship or two in his lifetime. By his best calculations, he knew they had to be approaching the Chanteur Depths and the thought makes his stomach squirm. The rumors and stories he’d heard all those years ago had been enough to make his skin crawl. Eugene wasn’t much for superstition, but he knew enough about reading people to tell, most of the time, when someone was making something up.

The haunted, shaken look in those sailors’ eyes hadn’t been fabricated.

They draw you in, kid, one sailor had told him years before he’d met Rapunzel. She’d looked a little green as she’d said it. You think your will is strong but then you sail into Chanteur Depths and… well. I’ll never forget those sounds.

When Varian mentioned needing a rare mineral that could only be found, based on his extensive research, on in island just past the Chanteur Depths, Eugene had actually laughed. It was just their luck, really. Eugene had explained what he knew, and Varian and Rapunzel had set to work on pursuing their own research. There wasn’t much information about the Chanteur Depths, and it didn’t take them long to learn it was because few ever come back from it. Still, despite this, they set off together with Lance in tow.

Eugene was beginning to wonder if maybe it was a huge mistake. It didn’t matter though. It was too late to turn back now.

They had agreed to plug their ears with wax, just in case. It had been Rapunzel’s idea, based on Eugene’s recounting of what he’d heard. Through the torrential downpour of rain that drenches the ship’s deck in the raging storm, Eugene sees Lance shove wax into his own ears and Rapunzel disappear down below to retrieve more for Varian and Eugene.

And then, so suddenly that Eugene nearly slips, everything stills.

The rocking waves are abruptly—unnaturally—still. The rain stops, and Eugene flips his sopping wet hair out of his eyes. The sky is still overcast, but everything is calm and still and it should, by all accounts, relax him. Instead, it sets his teeth on edge.

He locks eyes with Lance across the ship, matching his frown. He knew his friend well enough to recognize the look. Lance was suspicious too. He cocks an eyebrow at Eugene, who sets his mouth in a grim line. I don’t trust it. Lance gives a single nod. His grip around the helm flexes.

Still, without the wind buffeting the sails, Eugene lets his grip on the ropes go a little lax, if only to get circulation back into his fingers. He takes a deep breath of salt and brine, letting his gaze flit over the rest of the sailing vessel quickly. His brow knits together when he sees Varian, standing in the middle of the deck, staring out at the horizon line.

For a moment, Eugene is struck by just how young Varian is. The kid is sixteen and he looks every bit of it, with his sopping wet clothes hanging off his lanky frame and hair falling into his eyes despite the goggles on his head. Then Varian’s head tilts, and Eugene frowns at the weird, clouded look in his eyes.

When the kid takes a faltering step forward, Eugene moves on nothing but instinct.

“Varian!”

Varian breaks into a run for the edge of the ship but Eugene is a few steps ahead of him. He lunges at the same time Varian does. They land hard against the wood of the ship and the wind is knocked out of him. Eugene blindly grabs onto the messy tangle of limbs, tasting copper when a sharp elbow makes contact with his jaw.

“Varian--!”

“I’m coming, Dad!” Varian’s voice is strangled and desperate. “I’m coming! Eugene, let go—”

“Kid, you can’t—”

“Let go!”

Eugene squeezes tighter as Varian nearly slips from his grasp, yanking the kid back and trying to roll on top of him. Varian was slippery and quick, but Eugene was heavier and stronger. Varian makes a noise that doesn’t sound fully human—something almost like a broken sob—and there’s movement in the corner of Eugene’s eyes that is just enough warning for him to block the wide swing of a fist.

“It’s not real, Varian,” Eugene grits out as he manages to wrestle Varian’s weight to the ground. “Whatever you’re hearing, it’s not—”

“I do!” Varian shouts over to the ocean, thrashing against Eugene’s grip, and it’s then that Eugene sees tears beginning to form in the corner of the teen’s eyes. “I do, Dad! I want to—I’m coming! Don’t—”

But the deck is wet with rain and Eugene’s hands are slippery and Varian wrestles away. Eugene grabs for him blindly and his fist closes around air.

“Wait--!”

“Oh no you don’t, kid.”

Eugene sees Lance intercept Varian and coughs a breath in relief as he manages to get Varian into a firmer hold. Eugene rolls from his back to his hands and knees, taking a second to catch his breath. He tries to pretend he can’t hear Varian’s desperate shouting for his father, or Lance muttering something to him under his breath.

“Eugene.”

Eugene’s mouth twitches in a soft, relieved smile. He knew that voice. Rapunzel was back from below deck with the wax.

“Hey, Sunshine.” He looks up, sitting back on his heels and freezes. Rapunzel was nowhere to be seen.

“Eugene, I’m over here.”

Eugene glances in the direction of the sound. Portside. From the ocean? His blood turns cold, and he pushes himself to his feet. He manages a weak laugh.

“Yeah, nice try,” he says with a bravado that feels flimsy. “Look, I don’t know what you are, but I know Rapunzel is—”

But then there’s that laugh. That soft little giggle that always made that odd swooping feeling in his stomach, and Eugene finds his voice faltering for just a moment.

“The water is really nice, Eugene,” says Rapunzel’s voice. “Come join me. Just for a quick swim.”

Eugene blinks hard and shakes his head. Not real. It wasn’t real. Rapunzel was below deck.

“Please, Eugene?” the voice continues. “I just wanted to get a moment alone with you. A moment with just you and me. The water is so nice, Eugene.”

Eugene clenches his jaw. Crosses his arms over his chest. He breathes deeply. Not real. “No dice, mysterious disembodied voice,” Eugene quips. “But—”

“EUGENE!” The voice is still Rapunzel’s, this time closer to the stern. Eugene is moving before he’s even thinking about it, the raw fear in her voice palpable. Eugene lurches towards the sound a few steps before his foot slips. The sudden balance shift is enough to jolt him back to awareness.

That…. That’s not Rapunzel either. Right?

“Eugene, please!” Rapunzel’s voice echoes from that same direction, strained and terrified. Eugene’s stomach rolls. “Please, I can’t—please, Eugene. I’m—” Her voice cuts off and there’s the sound of splashing water and Eugene falters in his steps again.

Rapunzel… where was Rapunzel again?

Another splash. Her voice, higher and more panicked. A wordless, throaty scream.

Not real, not real, not real— The reminder repeats like a mantra in Eugene’s head but it is hard to listen to it when the sound of Rapunzel drowning and begging for him seems to ricochet in the air. It makes the air itself hard to breathe.

Eugene squeezes his eyes shut, and when he hears her broken, gurgling gasp for air that chokes off with the sound of his name, he nearly leaps over the edge. He clamps his hands firmly over his ears. It’s not real, it’s not her, it’s not real, it’s not her—

But it sounds like her, so crystal clear that it hits like a hammer against the caving feeling in Eugene’s chest and he can’t quite contain the pained noise in the back of his throat as he curls around himself (when did he drop to his knees? He doesn’t know). He’s listening to Rapunzel drown and he’s not doing anything, why isn’t he doing anything—

Suddenly there’s warmth covering his shivering hands on his head, trying to pry them away and Eugene instinctively flinches away from the touch, his gaze flying up as he rears back.

His eyes lock onto green ones, wide and worried under a furrowed brow. Her short brown hair is wet with rain and a windswept mess, but Eugene meets those beautiful green eyes and suddenly can’t look away. A part of him is afraid to, as if this is just one more hallucination or trick.

“Sunshine?” he manages weakly.

Rapunzel’s gaze flit over him and she reaches out again for the hands that are still clamped around Eugene’s ears. The contact is just as jarring—and just as warm—as it had been a moment ago, but Eugene lets her pry his hands off of him and hold them in her own. It’s not until Rapunzel’s grip tightens that he realizes he’s trembling a little.

A second later, Eugene realizes everything is silent again. He’s distantly aware of the sound of Varian sobbing.

Eugene opens his mouth to say something, but his throat closes and he just shakes his head and shrugs a shoulder at Rapunzel’s searching gaze. He doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t have the words right now.

Rapunzel moves closer, slowly like she’s afraid of startling him again. When she cups Eugene’s face in her hands, Eugene sinks into the touch. Real. Grounding.

“Eugene,” she whispers, and that’s her voice, her real voice, and Eugene inhales sharply at the sound. The softness with which she says his name is such a stark contrast to the strangled, desperate way the echoes of it had been calling to him from the water that he finds his vision blurring with sudden tears.

Rapunzel presses her forehead to Eugene’s. When he blinks, Rapunzel’s thumb brushes the tears off his cheek. Eugene grips her forearm for a moment before pulling her into a closer embrace. Eugene buries his face into her neck. Warm, real, here, safe. She’s safe.

None of them move for a long time.

#tangled #tts #tangled fanficton #eugene fitzherbert #new dream #new dream fanfiction #eugene angst #angst #drowning #sirens #but like a twist on sirens #varian #varian angst #peril #please let me know if more things should be dropped in these tags #heed warnings

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violetfaust · 3 years

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I'm interested in hearing more about why you think Margot should've been Rumbelle's daughter. Sounds interesting, but what would that mean for her enchanted forest life? I think her being Robin Hood's daughter would've been fine if not for Zelena

Okay, Nonny, since you sent this a few days before Mother's Day, I'm gonna finally take the opportunity to try to sum up and speed-run the Belle's Daughter Margot feelings that have haunted me for THREE YEARS. Buckle in; this will be more than you or anyone asked for.

Disclaimer 1: It's been, well, three years, so my memory of Curious Archer and their story is not perfect; could be off on some details here. And Disclaimer 2: I really loved Tiera Skovbye as Robin/Margot; she did a lot with not much screen time, and she and Rose had fabulous chemistry. So although she was well cast as Robin Sr.'s kid, Tiera would be perfectly believable as a Rumbelle daughter, too--maybe give her some low-lights and call it a day. We keep Tiera as Margot in this rewrite. Okay: onward.

(Since one of the few things that would have to change about Robin if she were Rumbelle’s daughter is her name, I’ll just mostly use her Hyperion Heights name “Margot” throughout this post for simplicity.)

First and foremost, the foundation of everything: Margot is so like Belle! She is so like her. They have the same love of adventure, a similar sense of humor. She took Alice on a date to a bookstore. Most of all, she has Belle’s ability to see past “the mask of the monster” to a person’s heart. There was a great scene where Tilly explained that she didn’t want Margot to see her “bad days” because she thought it would be “too much,” and Margot said words to the effect that she was there for the bad as well as the good.

Obviously, people don't have to grow up to be exactly like their parents (Belle and Rumple sure didn't)...BUT. In fiction, one of the fun parts of next-gen stories is for the audience to see how their favorites' personalities are passed down. It's just more fun to see a Henry who has parts of Regina/Emma/Neal than one who doesn't; it's fun to see Lucy resemble little Henry. And it would be fun to see Margot be like her parents (she is very like Robin Sr; not so much Zee). Seeing a character who has so many of Belle's traits becomes just more...fun...when she learned them FROM Belle.

The family feud Rumple/Hook angle turns Alice and Margot’s relationship up another roman tic notch. A classic trope! It’s about reconciliation and love remaking and erasing those old grudges. Which is even more important when we’re supposed to believe that the evidence of Rumple’s final redemption is his saving Rook.

On a more macro level: the entire claim that OUAT is "a show about hope" COLLAPSES because it ends with the annihilation of the Stiltskin family. Rumple, Belle, and Neal are all dead; Henry doesn’t acknowledge them as his family; and Gideon is a friendless and forgotten orphan in another world. I did my rants about this three years ago, but long story short: the show’s not about hope unless it’s hopeful for EVERYONE. And having at least one of Rumbelle’s children alive and happy at the end (with her True Love and friends and acknowledged as part of the family) would fix that. My objection has never been that Rumple (and even Belle) die, but the way it happened.

And of course, Rumbelle needed to have at least one other child because Kitsowitz managed to deny them even one single shared happy moment surrounding Belle’s pregnancy with Gideon and his birth. Even if the audience didn’t get to see it (and we could have gotten a glimpse in Beauty), we deserved to know it happened.

Finally: Zelena did not belong in S7, period. I know it was fun for her fans! (Although apparently there weren't enough of them to positively affect the ratings, meow.) I do know! But it was bad storytelling. She served no point in the larger season arc, and the serial witch killer plot that was invented to serve her was one of the worst and most stupid things Kitsowitz came up with in seven years, and ate up time that could/should have gone to develop other characters. (Driz and Ana come immediately to mind, instead of having them shunted off to another universe, but also Henry/Cinda/Lucy and of course Rumple since his plot was coming to a close.) Zelena didn’t even get any significant growth herself, or develop her relationships with Regina or Robin. She still didn’t express regret for the horrible things she did to characters we love (Rumple, Neal, and Robin Sr.); the only result of all that screentime was to give an unrepentant rapist a love story with a person--we barely see and have zero investment in. And even that was ultimately negated at the end of the season, because in the finale Zee’s back in Storybrooke sans Boo Bear.

So, all that said: what would have to change about Margot’s, and Curious Archer’s, FTL storyline to give us Margot Gold?

Her name—but actually very little else. (And frankly it would have been more respectful to have Belle name her daughter after Robin Sr., who was actually her friend, than for Zee to name her kid after the man she raped, manipulated, and ultimately got killed—but that ship had sailed.)

Belle and Rumple could have given their daughter any number of fairytale names after people they know, aka fresh take on a Disney character. My favorite possibilities are Aurora (and then Curious Archer could have been Curious Beauty, and done a riff on the Sleeping Beauty story as part of their FTL backstory, with a built-in TLK) and Merlin (very pretty for a girl, I’ve always thought).

But the character herself would have been very much the same: she could be Rumbelle’s jock daughter, trained in archery and swordsmanship by family friends (Merida/Mulan/Charming), but always feeling out of place in her family of scholars/sorcerers/nerds.

I am SO sorry for the length of this--there's even more under this cut!

Robin/Margot felt insecure about trying to live up to her father’s name; Rory/Merlin/Margot could have similar anxieties trying to live down her father’s Dark One rep. There could even be a similar story where she was born with magic (like Robin was) but loses it or chooses to give it up—something that would estrange her further from her family. Or, if she was Merlin, she could keep her magic but be reluctant to use it, and part of Curious Archer’s Hyperion Heights arc would be both Margot and Tilly discovering and accepting their magic. (Sapphic sorceresses for the win.)

Now, one of the cutest things about Alice/Robin’s FTL dynamic was Robin being a girl from the Land Without Magic finding her feet in an enchanted forest, with Alice’s help. But it would only take a little finessing of S7 Rumbelle’s story to get that for Rory as well. (Of course, any decent story would have a LOT of finessing of Rumbelle’s plot so that Belle didn’t die and put Rumple on a suicide mission, but again—assuming the ship has sailed…)

Say that Rory is five to six years younger than Gideon. The Rumbelle family spend a dozen years or so traveling the realms, but then Rumbelle decide that they want Gideon and Rory to be comfortable in the LWoM with their extended Charming family, so they settle back into the Pink Palace so the kids can get a LWoM education. They still take occasional journeys, often Rumbelle going to save some hapless souls, but Rory grows up primarily in SB with very few, vague memories of all the fascinating places they visited when she was a small child. This feeds her hunger for adventure along with some envy of Gideon for having so many more fairytale experiences—another thing that makes her feel like a misfit in her family. So, presto, when she moves to FTL she and Alice have pretty much the same meeting/adventures.

One of the key notes of Rumple and Alice/Tilly's relationship, showing his growth and making it so special, was how he chose to set her free of being the Guardian or whatever, allowing her to be free and get what he never had, the chance to grow old with the woman she loves. And that would be weakened if Rumple knew that by choosing Alice's happiness over his own, he was also choosing his own daughter's happiness (because we know Rumple picks his kids over himself ever time). But--he doesn't have to know WHO Alice's True Love is when he makes that choice. He could just know that there is someone, or simply realize that Alice deserves her freedom for her own sake. (Rumple's daughter also getting happiness would be a side benefit that he didn't learn about till later, and have the added perk of Rumple actually getting a narrative reward for doing something good. Which almost NEVER happened! Bonus.)

Finally: I do understand that Robin's presence on the canvas was important to fans of Robin Sr.--getting to know he's remembered and having someone carry on his legacy. Of course I get it--Rumbelle and their family not having that is my biggest complaint (of so so many).

But we don't need a grown-up Robin Jr. to be Robin's legacy. Let her stay a cute background kid with perennially baby Prince Neal. There's already a character, one we're invested in, to carry on for the Hoods: Roland. And again, it would be satisfying for the audience to learn that a five-year-old orphan wasn't shunted off from what family he had left (Regina and Henry) into another universe and never heard from again. If Kitsowitz didn't waste time with Zelena, they wouldn't have needed the idiotic Jack-is-Hansel-the-serial-killer twist, and we could have have had Roland filling the role of Henry's best friend/little brother (and therefore Lucy's fake HH dad--God, that plot was bad all the way back in season 1; why Kitsowitz why?). We'd see Roland onscreen, part of the family, at the end of the show, perhaps with his own True Love (Drizella, maybe, or better yet Gideon) and happy future.

So, that's it: the combination of Margot Stiltskin-Gold and Roland Hood tightens and heightens the storytelling throughout S7, closes some plot holes, and actually fulfills some of the show's stated themes. Who knew!

Anyone else want three years of OUAT theory vomit? 😋 Shoot me an ask!

(I actually have another one, god help us all, but I might save it till Father's Day...)

#rumbelle #ouat of all things #curious archer sort of #rumbelle family #belle french #deserved a daughter damnit #roland hood #anti-kitsowitz as all things should be #long post guys sorry #op #UN!proofread!

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is-that-another-soulmate-au · 4 years

Text

Zuko says fuck all of you, this war is stupid, your bending elitism is stupid, I'm gonna end your stupid existence with sheer spite and teenage angst

>If He Used His Strength<

"Maybe you'd like one to match!" Zuko snapped at Zhao

"Is that a challenge?" The irritating older man sounded all too cocky

"An Agni Kai, at sunset" he glared daggers at the man who just so happened to agree to the duel

Once Zuko used a move outside of his firebending the match was over quickly. He easily broke Zhao's root, kicking flames only at his feet until he fell back. He stood over him with a dark stare. He was tired of this. Tired of running around. Tired of chasing a twelve year old boy. Tired of tirelessly searching for the love of a terrible father. Tired of the war. He was done with it. And he had the power to end it. Not the fire power per say. But the ability to fight against and overpower multiple benders without ever lighting a spark himself

"DO IT!" Zhao spat at him

Zuko let out a loud growled shout and punched the ground right next to Zhao's head with a bright flame exploding from it. "This war is over. I beat you. And I'll beat him. I dont need fire to take you down."

"Wha-"

"So far your biggest enemies have been a twelve year old monk and a sixteen year old boy with trauma. So save your questions for your prison cell you cocky piece of trash" and with that he spit in his face and made a flip off of him and to Iroh. "Lets go"

"What do you plan to do prince Zuko?" Iroh asked in a confused tone

"Im going to end the war"

And with that they were off leaving Zhao to stand up and look down at the indent in the ground from where Zuko punched. A dent in the solid ground. "Send a warning to the firelord. He has company coming, and its not going to be petty" Zhao said as he came to the realization that if Zuko had actually landed that punch on his head he would have died on impact.

About two days later he was stopped in a small port town to grab some supplies and he ran into Aang who rightfully went into defense mode but he held up his hand "I'm only here to restock before I go fight my dad"

"What"

"Im done trying to please the bastard, he's terrible and this war is terrible, everyone in the firenation thinks fire is the best but it just sucks." Zuko shrugged "so I'm gonna go fight him and take the throne so I can end this stupid war"

"Oh... are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious, who do you think burnt my face? Of course I wanna fight him" Zuko waved to Iroh who was coming up to the pair with a bag of rations

"Oh, hello Avatar, sorry to run into you again" he apologized with a bow "Zuko came to some realizations and-"

"He already told me, hey, if you want to fight the firelord and you're serious about it, I can go talk to my friends about it and we can give you a lift on Appa and you'll get their quicker"

"Alright, we'll be on the port until sunset, if you come before then to get me then I'll come with you, if not, I'm sailing there"

Meanwhile the gaang were camped out when Aang came running in with what seemed to be confused excitement "guys, Zuko's gonna end the war"

Katara and Sokka looked up from the map that Sokka was holding "what thats insane, We're going to end the war, that's why you're training. Besides Zuko is our enemy and part of the firenation. Why would he end the war? And how would he even?"

"Okay, maybe I should have been more clear. Zuko is fed up with the war, and he's on his way to fist fight dad and end the war"

"Okay.. this... this I gotta see, we should find him and give him a lift."

"Funny you say that, he's in town and I offered him a ride"

After Aang went to go get Zuko and Iroh they made a walk towards the camp where the group started asking him questions to be certain he wasn't just trying to trick them and also to figure out how in the hell he hopes to do this.

"So. You want to go... fist fight your dad?"

"Uh, well, that's not exactly how I'd word it"

"Why not use your fire bending?"

Zuko let out a long sigh "alright, let me give you guys a run down on the fire nation okay? First of all, firebending is seen as the only form of actual power. Any non benders or late benders are seen as weaker and often times are. But they hold bending on such a high pedestal that most benders never take the time to master anything else. They don't practice any other form of fighting, let alone any other sort of strength training.

"I was a late bender so my bending is weaker than most. But I've taken the time to train with swords and multiple different fighting styles. I can easily break a solid steel chain with my foot in a shoe and I can break solid wood with my bare feet." He took a second to look around at the group "while I havent attempted it, I could probably crush someone's skull as well if we're taking into account of the two other things I know for a fact that I can break"

The group looked at eachother with terrified expressions "Zuko holy shit, you could have killed me at the south pole"

"Yeah, but I have control over the amount of force in each kick, and I wasnt trying to kill you... you were just in my way"

"Alright, well, I'm convinced, lets go"

And with that they were off, Zuko agreeing to have the group help him if he needed it. Iroh decided to teach Zuko how to redirect lightning on their journey incase he needed it.. When they landed Ozai was already outside prepared, having gotten the letter a day before and hearing that the bison had been spotted.

Jumping off of Appa Zuko and Ozai stared eachother down "Zuko"

"Father," Zuko narrowed his eyes "I challenge you to an Agni Kai. But. By your honor and mine. You and I are only able to use fire once during the battle. If you can defeat me with only one fire attack, then you can keep up with your stupid war. But. If I defeat you with the same limits then I take the throne" motioning his hand forward he continued "do we have a deal"

Ozai gave him a cold glare "you truly are pathetic," glancing at the avatar on the bison he gave in "deal"

The fight didn't last long, Ozai had already used fire within the first few seconds and Zuko took the low ground beneath it as a means of attacking. Running low and sliding between the older man's legs only to come up behind him and land a quick kick against his side. Sending him to the ground where Zuko took his advantage point to lift his leg up and slam it down directly on the man's chest.

A loud crack could be heard throughout the courtyard. A few broken ribs and probably some fatal internal bleeding kept Ozai on the ground. Zuko turned to the firenation officials who came to witness the fight. "This war is over. Go cry a river if you oppose its end."

"That was a cheat!" Someone in the crowd shouted

"How so?" He mocked back "it was a duel, I used only what I have and no extra weapons, I set a single extra rule and followed it to the extreme." Tilting his head he gave an irritated grin "would you like to fight against me with the same rules? I'm more than happy to give another show if you'd like"

The crowd had no other objections after that. Funny how that happened. Azula came bounding out into the courtyard, probably ready to see Zuko down but was instead met by the scene of Zuko standing over Ozai victorious.

"You- actually won?"

"I didnt use fire Azula, wanna try your hand?" He made a move to get into a fighting stance but instead was met by her running up to him with her arms open for a... hug? He didnt hug back for a moment, confused, but heard a few muffled apologies and returned the hug.

"So, you're gonna be firelord huh?" She asked as they separated, he nodded "And you're ending the war?"

"Exactly"

"Lame" she groaned out

"Everything I do is lame to you isn't it?"

"Not everything, but most things"

And with that Zuko ended the war, got himself and his sister some much needed therapy, Aang left to train around the world while it was healing from the war, only coming back to the firenation to train under Iroh and Zuko. Sokka managed to go to master Piando with Zuko's recommendation(though Sokka didn't know he'd been recommended). Katara managed to dismantle the sexism in the north pole after training with the swamp benders and whooping Pakku's ass.

Ozai is fckn dead, rest in fckn hell dude.

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need-a-fugue · 3 years

Text

Trustworthy (Chapter 4)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Violence, language

Okay, yeah, sure, fine, you and Santi might not have been 100% honest about what you were planning in the jungle.

In fairness, neither of you ever actually said that this recon mission was at the behest of the CNP or Colombian military or any other government entity. You may have hinted at it. You may have neglected to correct the guys when they assumed. But you never actually told them that anyone had requested the raid on Lorea’s house.

What you had said was that there was a good chance this could turn into… something more. Something that might end up in a hefty pay day for all of you. You just never told the group of men that you and Garcia were actually banking on it.

You didn’t love the idea of lying to a bunch of strangers whom – if they agreed to everything – would end up holding your very life in their hands. Frankly, just the thought of doing so felt… sleezy. Especially considering that these men were Santi’s trusted friends. His brothers. But Santiago insisted that it needed to be played this way – They’ll never go for it if we tell them what we’re really up to. But I promise you, bonita, once they’re here, once they see… they’ll be all in.

He clearly knew his team because after just that single two-hour recce, a couple rounds of beers at a local bar, and a rather stirring, pointed speech, they were, in fact, all in.

And why not, really? The only one of them who had anything to lose – a family beyond those seen at the occasional holiday, wedding, or funeral – was Tom. And he’d been struggling so badly lately with impending alimony and child support and two kids’ worth of college tuitions – eight years minimum – that the money alone did all of their convincing for them.

It was illegal, yes. It was, as the captain said, “downright criminal.” But it wasn’t wrong. And as long as everything went according to plan, no one would know anything about any of it.

In the end, the world would be down at least one piece-of-shit, megalomaniacal drug lord murderer.

Some of the struggling people of Leticia – because you and Santi had promised each other and Yovanna that you’d drop a good chunk of the money into the hands of local charities – would have better lives.

Tom’s girls could go to college without having to worry about paying off student loans until they die.

Will could finally get rid of his old junker and buy a nice car – maybe not the Ferrari Ben was angling for, but a nice car all the same – to get him back and forth across the country for all those rousing speeches he insisted he would not stop giving.

Benny could invest in better training, at better gyms with better equipment… and real trainers. Or, hell, he could give all that shit up and quit getting his ass handed to him by kids ten years his junior, all in the hopes of capturing what was almost always one hell of a disappointing purse.

And Frankie? Well, Frankie wasn’t sure what he’d do with his share. But it sure would be nice to not have to worry so damn much. To not have to scramble to make the house payment every month. To not have to beg that dick who owns the local airfield to let him take on a few jobs just so he could settle into a cockpit for a bit. To maybe have the time – and funds – to take a woman on a date every now and then… not that he had a clue who that woman might be.

And you and Santi? Well, after years of accomplishing nothingin the fight against Lorea – the fight against the drug trade that had ruined and taken so many lives around the world – you two could finally say that you’d actually made a difference. Even if you couldn’t quite say it aloud for everyone to hear.

000

By the time you get to the compound early Sunday morning, rain’s already been falling for hours. The area’s nearly flooded, so your off-road path is basically a sprawling swampland. You barely slept, your hip is aching like crazy from an old injury, and the minute you step out of the SUV you damn near squeal like a stuck pig as you suddenly sink up to your calf in thick, sucking mud.

“Shit,” Frankie mutters under his breath – under a breathless laugh, you’re pretty sure – as he hops out and wraps a steadying arm around your waist. “Let me help,” he says, the words so soft, you can barely hear them over the unyielding pounding of the rain.

You try to balance, holding onto the door, one foot just barely sinking into the soft earth as Frankie leans down to pry the other from what feels like an utterly engulfing quicksand. He struggles, still holding you around the waist while his left hand works to grip your leg, your boot, your ankle… whatever he can wrap his fingers around. But it’s no use. The op has yet to even begin and already you’re stuck. In the disgusting mud. Deep in the endless jungle. With no hope of ever getting out.

You let out a painfully dramatic, completely despairing sigh and glance up only to see Benny laughing. Really laughing… not even trying to hide his utter, unabashed amusement at your awful predicament. You shoot him as threatening a glare as you can muster. But it only makes him laugh harder.

“Go get into position,” Tom orders, slapping him on the shoulder and shaking his head – once again in a seemingly all-too-practiced dadway – before he bends down to help Frankie out.

Finally, finally, the two men manage to free you. Shockingly, your boot leaves the earth as well, though you can feel the muck inside squelching beneath your instep and in between your toes. Your lip curls in disgust as you haphazardly wipe the boot – bottom, sides, and top – on the wheel well, a bit of mud getting squeezed out near your ankle as you do so. “I’m gonna get jungle rot,” you mutter bitterly as you continue to smear grime along the body of the SUV.

Tom swats your leg away. “Just be sure you don’t give away your location with all the squishing,” he says with a hint of a smile. Then, patting Frankie on the back, he finishes with a much more stern, “Let’s do this,” and takes off to find his position, face and shoulders both set as he easily drops into soldier mode.

“I’m still not sure if I like that guy,” you begin as you and Frankie head for the high ground, “or really freaking hate him.”

He bites out a quick laugh, turns to show off that too-damn-perfect smile, and replies with an easygoing, “Yup.”

Once you make it out of your drop-in point, everything else seems to be smooth sailing. The worst part is just waiting, especially with the rain. Waiting for Garcia’s informant to drop off the van. Waiting for the guards to leave for church, the family not so quickly following suit. Waiting for the guys to move in – Frankie shooting a quick wink alongside, “Watch my six,” as he heads out to join them. Waiting for the all-clear from Benny before you can finally enter the house yourself.

The house. Lorea’s house.

You’d been waiting for this for too damn long. Years of hunting the man had led to these last few months of building out this very plan with Santiago… and then to the last week of recon and final plans with these soldiers whom you barely even know. For all of the initial mistrust heaped upon you by them – and you honestly don’t blame them for any of it – the truth is, they know they have each other to depend on. You’re the odd man out here. You’re the one who should be questioning them… their dedication to this mission. Their loyalty to Santi, and by extension, to you. Their desire to end Lorea’s reign of terror.

You’re in this to take that man out. And if just one of these guys decides that’s not going to happen – for whatever reason – you’re shit out of luck. You should trust them only as far as you can throw them, which would be… not very far. But as you catch sight of Ben standing inside the front door, eagerly waving you in, and as you see the trail of blood leading into the kitchen, a voice over the coms calmly declaring, we had to shoot one of the guards in the leg, something inside of you shifts and settles and all of the worries about who may or may not be trustworthy simply flit away to nothing.

But other concerns quickly rise to take their place.

Watching the highly trained special ops team move about you – each man light-footed and fluid, so quiet that their breathing is nearly inaudible, even as one of them leans over your shoulder from his position behind – is nerve wracking enough to make your legs begin to tremble. You knew what you were getting into here. You knew that this would be dangerous, that it would require a certain level of skill and technique and training. But it isn’t until you actually see these men – these elite soldiers – in action that you realize how woefully inept and unprepared you are in comparison.

Self-doubt begins to seep from the cracks now forming in your carefully crafted façade. Uncertainty, insecurity, fear starts to build up and rise within you, burning like bile creeping up the back of your throat. By the time you and Santiago finish the second sweep of the downstairs and begin climbing the steps to the second-story landing, your entire body is vibrating with regretful apprehension.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you hear as you approach the study upstairs. It’s the room where your informant took the picture of the stacks of cash after her delivery, the holding area where all of Lorea’s blood money sat, just waiting to be counted. But when you enter, there’s no money to be found, just pissed-off-looking soldiers surrounded by the empty bags they had planned to fill with cash.

“Your girl burned us,” Frankie mutters blankly, eyes full of regret and annoyance as he leans heavily against one wall. His dark gaze collides with yours for just a fraction of a moment before he shakes his head and breathes out, “We gotta get outta here.”

Your brow crinkles in confusion, all of the insecurity bubbling through your body suddenly settling and getting replaced by a sort of righteous indignation. “Whoa, wait,” you spit out, sidestepping Santi and rushing to the center of the room. “We’re not leaving. We’re not done here.”

Will gives you an almost disappointed look and blankly mutters, “Nothing here, sweetheart,” before dropping heavily into a chair in the corner.

You shake your head, a pointed certainty to your words as you level him with a heated stare and say, “Lorea’s here. He’s always here. He does not leave.”

Tom scoffs. “Yeah, well, he left today,” he says, tone full of spite. “And he took the money with him.”

You spin to face him, “No,” pouring from your lips in a firm and unyielding tenor. “He’s here. And so is the money.”

“We did a full sweep,” Will breathes out.

“So we’ll do another,” Santiago chimes in, suddenly at your back.

You look around at all the forlorn faces and roll your eyes, realizing all at once that, for all their training in war, these men don’t have a freaking clue about the kinds of things you deal with in your job. They’re used to encountering soldiers – enemy combatants, trained mercenaries, militias… people who’s purpose is to fight. That’s not what Lorea is. That’s not what he does. He didn’t move deep into the jungle to fight, to wage war, to build an army. He came here to hide.

“You guys are fucking idiots,” you declare with a huff. “I once spent two hours tearing apart a houseboat before finding the guy we were after squatting in a hidden cutout near the bilge. A few years ago, we found fifty thousand dollars under a false bottom in a hot tub while serving a search warrant. Another raid ended with us tearing apart a kid’s tree house that had cash hidden under the floorboards. You think because Lorea isn’t sitting here behind his desk, counting his millions like fucking Scrooge McDuck that they’re not here? That he’s not here?”

“Didn’t McDuck swim in his money?” Benny inquires from behind, the question earning quick huff of a laugh from his brother.

You feel Santi step away from your side. “She’s right,” he says, his eyes dancing around the room, looking for… something. They land on a mostly empty can of paint, and he smiles, sniffing quickly at the air. “Fresh paint.”

Tom’s eyes widen and tick towards the wall to his left as his lips split and out pours what you had all along seen as being an obvious truth. “The house is the safe.”

000

When it rains, it pours. You’d been the one to say that, to inanely mutter the adage through the coms with a huff as Benny took off back inside the house – the safe – while you sat in the now heavily weighted van, so full of money that the suspension sags to the point of extremeconcern.

The guards are coming back, the sound of their SUV’s engine just barely chugging atop the steady beating of the downpour that had engulfed you all for the past few hours. They’re coming back, and everyone but you is still inside.

Call it greed. Call it vindictiveness. Call it whatever the fuck you want. But you all had agreed to get as much plata out of that house as possible, to fill the cars to the freaking brim with as much of that motherfucker’s money – his lifeblood, his love, his everything – before setting fire to the whole damn thing. You’d been in this business long enough to know that bringing down one cartel merely opens up a door for others to grow. But still, the idea of watching Lorea’s empire burn makes you wet in a way the torrential rain beating on the roof on the van never could.

You toss a glance back, over you shoulder at the mound of duffel bags, a child’s suitcase thrown into the pile as well, all filled to bursting with cash. It’s pretty unbelievable. Incredible. You’d never been the type to really worry about money, no more so than the average guy. But damn if being surrounded by millions of dollars doesn’t make you a little lightheaded. And the fact that it’s Lorea’s money?

Despite Santi’s little bullshit pep talk the other night about how all of you deserve this – for serving your country and fighting for what’s right… blah, blah, blah – you honestly don’t feel like you deserve this money any more than anyone else. But Lorea sure as shit doesn’t deserve it. And you trust yourself – and each of these men by your side – to put it to far better use than he ever would.

You can’t see the guards, can’t see the SUV carrying them from your vantage point in the van. But Benny had told you to stay put, he’d get the others and he wanted you ready to drive as soon as they came out. Still, you know now that the first car must’ve arrived at the compound because – aside from the steady pounding of the rain and the wild pulse of your heartbeat echoing in your ears – everything is suddenly silent. No more hum of an engine. No choppy callouts over the radio as Ben seeks out the guys. Everything is silent and still. Until… pop-pop, short and sudden, muffled by the thick walls of the house.

Over the coms you hear – in a calm, controlled tone – Two down in the entryway. Another sharp pop, followed by a voice you’ve come to easily recognize. That’s three.

There’s something in the way their words are uttered, something in the utterly placid tenor of each of their voices. Something also to the sparse shots – so unlike the rapid, automatic gunfire you’re used to being thrown into amid scared and untrained local police and inexperienced, foolhardy kids hired as cheap labor by the cartels. There’s something about the way they all rush suddenly into your line of sight – fast but calm, controlled – as they pour out of the house, a few racing past to find the guards’ SUV, the sounds of their footfalls and quick breaths nearly drowning out the whir of the engine as you turn the ignition. There’s something about it all that leaves you feeling – despite the fact that things did not go as planned and you can see that all-too-recognizable, pissed-off scowl tugging at Santiago’s features as he flies past your window – calm as well. Safe, even.

Frankie climbs quickly into the passenger side of the van just as you fire up the engine, Will slowly pulling himself into the seat behind him. “Shit,” you mutter, eyes widening as you take in the grimace on the man’s face, the blood on his hands and shirt. “What the hell happened?”

“S’fine,” he tells you, punctuating the statement with a nod, a directive to look forward. “Let’s move.”

You put the van in gear and hit the gas, maneuvering steadily through the compound and towards the front entrance. “Did you get shot?” you inquire again, your voice showing less concern and more simple curiosity.

“Yeah,” he groans, a thick breath hitching as you hit a particularly big bump in the road. “Your friend Lorea popped out of his little hidey hole and got me. Guess you called that.”

You whip around to face him, eyes now like damn saucers. “You got him?”

Frankie grabs your arm and gives a little tug to get you turn back towards the front, only speaking, answering for Will, once you do so, once you settle a still-wild stare on the path ahead, “Yeah. Pope took him out. He’s dead.”

You say nothing for a long moment, letting those words seat inside of you. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. How long have you wanted to hear those words? How long have you been gunning for that son of a bitch, waiting for someone to take him out… hoping that someone might be you? Santi doing it is the next best thing, you figure.

A sudden explosion lights up in front of you as you approach the gate and Benny blows past it, and past the van, angrily muttering to himself all the while. “He looks pissed,” you comment blithely, looking to Frankie for something akin to permission before flooring it and ramming through the gate like you’re just itching to do.

He gives a staunch nod forward. “Can’t blame him,” he says, capping it off with a softer, rather encouraging, “Go for it.”

You hit the gas, glancing in the rearview mirror and asking, “The others are in the SUV?” as the guards’ car pulls up behind you and waits for Ben to jump in.

Frankie nods – “Yeah.” – and his eyes suddenly tick your way, narrowing a bit as they rove your body before coming to rest on your hands as they tightly grip the wheel.

“What?” you ask, feeling his stare burn into you.

Will laughs from behind – a swift, stilted thing that tells you just how much pain he’s actually in – and lets out an amused, “Fish always drives.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say, voice dripping with put-on sincerity as you continue down the unpaved road. “Do you want me to pull over?”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s no hiding the plainly obvious pout tugging at his lips when he looks over at you and mutters, “Just watch where you’re going.”

The first half or so of the long drive up to the airfield is spent in tense silence. You don’t fight it, don’t force any sort of conversation, don’t inquire about what exactly happened in that house. You can tell that these men need a long-ass moment to come down from everything. Hell, your own adrenaline still has your pulse thrumming endlessly through your ears. And you’d been safely ensconced inside this van for most of the action. It’s not like you had to fight your way out of there. It’s not like you got shot.

Your eyes bounce up to the rearview mirror, finding Will curled into himself in the backseat. “How you doing, Ironhead?” you ask, purposefully infusing the ridiculous name with a mocking intonation.

He looks up and catches your gleaming eyes in the mirror, notes your slight smirk, and gruffly replies, “Well, I’m not dead yet.”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” Frankie supplies from your right. He spins around to give his friend a quick once over. “He’s fine.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous,” you challenge, raising a brow. “Didn’t see you coming out of there with a new hole in your body.”

“Didn’t realize you were so focused on my body,” he returns with a bit of a lilt.

Will groans loudly from the back. “Don’t start flirting up there,” he practically orders before the no-argument tone slips into something softer, almost jovial. “I’m suffering enough back here as is.”

“You’re fine,” Frankie shoots back, turning bodily in his seat and craning his head towards his friend. “You act like you’ve never been shot before.”

“I’m retired,” he replies. “Think I forgot how much this sucks.”

You nod, almost to yourself, emitting a simple, assenting, “Yeah.”

Frankie leans back, still remaining sideways in the seat, his stare now wholly on you. You glance over and see his brow scrunch in… is it concern? Or merely curiosity? “You’ve been shot?” he asks, an odd edge to his voice.

Again, you nod. “I have. Didn’t care for it.”

“See, Fish,” Will mumbles from the back as he slips further down the seat in an effort to find some semblance of comfort. “Maybe you’ve been so busy flying around rich businessmen in the private sector that you’ve also forgotten how shitty this is.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he mutters with a frown.

Will cocks his head at you – not that you can see it, eyes remaining trained on the road lest you get another watch where you’re goingevil stare from the man by your side. “What happened to you, sweetheart?”

You snort out a short laugh, glancing quickly at Frankie and saying softly – and more than a little bit condescendingly – “He likes to call me sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man in the back sighs out, waving a dismissive hand through the air. “Guess I’m just a run-of-the-mill chauvinist.”

You shrug. “I never said anything about you being run-of-the-mill.” And from your right, you hear a soft snicker. A gentle smile spreads across your face and your hands loosen their death grip on the steering wheel just a bit as you feel the air filling the van begin to lighten, tension seeming to slowly spill away. After a lingering – but not at all wrought – moment, you shift a bit in your seat and say, “Went on a raid just outside of Tijuana. My first down in Mexico. And I took a bullet in the hip.”

“Shit,” Will intones. “Hell of a bienvenido.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, suddenly all-too conscious of the old ache in your joint that’s been plaguing you all day. “But on the plus side, I’m now always the first to know when it’s about to rain.”

Both men laugh. You laugh – despite the pain in your hip and the worry about the guy in back… and your terribly distracting infatuation with the wide smile now painted on Frankie’s face. You all sit in the van – on your way to flee the country after committing a terrible crime – and laugh about the fact that, despite each of you being a little bit broken, none of you are dead yet.

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44 @mrscrain-x7 @kyjoraven@elephants-are-a-thing @nakhudanyx

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #pope garcia #santiago pope garcia #frankie morales x you #will ironhead miller #benny miller #triple frontier fic

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