#aaron soot

[thursdaymoonrise11]

Six Nine Hogwarts Legacy MCs Challenge - complete✨

The MCs from left to right, top to bottom:

Amberlyn 'Alyn' Salters - @ps-cactus

Johanna Newman - @ravenwind-75

Eleanor Porter - @endless-starlight-legacy

Hellendil Melinae - @theravenchild

Faustine Daemon - @faustinio27

Cariad Faiythe - @starryslytherin0

Millie Claire - @the-ozzie

Juliet Price - @julietpricee

Aaron Soot - @blbllblblblll

So, I said it might take ages, but I just so happened to have a VERY free weekend so I managed to get this done in record time

It was SO fun drawing all your MCs and learning about them to try and capture their vibe - I will wanna do this again I'm sure lol

(i am so sorry if i have gotten any details wrong like eye colour, house or hairstyle. let me know if so and i'll update them!!)

(also tried new styles with each so pls ignore inconsistencies🥲)

[traceyc-uk]

*sneaking sneeeaaakking*

sUPRISE HUG :D 🎉

Gah! Where did you spring from Aaron?! Thank you for the surprise hug 🥰 right back at you!🫂

[blbllblblblll]

i made another thing with aaron

me?? obsessed with a game???

pfssshhh noo, idk what your talking about

[ask-elland-n-will]

hello will,, and others,

i was wondering if one if you lot own a big grey cat,, he keeps popping up in my dorm room and scratching up my school work. and when i try to grab him he bites. as you can see, im not super good with cats. if you could come pick him up for me thatd be brilliant.

- aaron :)

(@ask-aaronsoot)

There is a knock on the door to your dorm room before a Slytherin prefect walks in, wearing kitchen mittens, Quidditch goggles, and two layers of sweaters despite it being a really warm day.

"Aaron, good afternoon. I received your letter and asked a few students around. Sadly, I couldn't locate the owner of the cat you described but we cannot allow it to ruin your school work! Slytherins need house points!" the prefect announces, looks around, and spots the cat. "Unfortunately for the three of us, I'm not great with animals either."

But he will give it all he can! After all, he is a prefect, and he is the one who should be taking care of those things.

"Kitty cat. Come here? Kitty?" Will starts approaching the animal, walking slowly up until he's close enough where he could grab it. He spreads his mittens forward, sweat trickling down his temple in the process.

[blbllblblblll]

he had a nightmare :(

thanks @keri-mcberry for letting me draw lyla <3

(ive never made a comic before so sorry for it being so messy lol)

Attention all Hogwarts Legacy MCs!

I am starting an MC Sleepover! Everyone is welcome!

To participate just Reblog with an image, drawing, or even a sleepover story with your MC to THIS post

Sharing and “nominating” others is definitely encouraged! I would like as many peeps at this sleep over as possible!💜💙

I look forward to seeing everyone’s MCs in there pjs! 🌙✨

[igglemouse]

Week 2 ~ Blood Simoleons (2.4) ~ Monday

It's apparently Gnome day or something and so I will do my best to just ignore it and carry on with my day, or rather, begin my day. These things are tiny, usually bearded, and always frozen in one pose or another. No one knows where they come from or how they get into your home and I honestly think no one wants to find out. I will not let them hijack my day so if you do not mind I'll be ignoring them.

Today's breakfast, pancakes! Extra fluffy as well because...well, why not? It is a big day as there is another audition ahead of me, a really important one, but aren't they all at this point? Every opportunity could be the one, my breakout moment, and each victory is just another bullet point to my growing resume. Day by day I am making my mark on this town

After breakfast I take a break with a little gaming. It just gives my mind a chance to wander without having to think about auditions, lines, and the pressure that comes with them. I should point out that I'm pretty terrible at games. Like even easy mode feels impossible to me but I am having fun all the same and that is what matters?

See! Little Bruno is also unsettled by these gnomes, I catch him howling at one that appeared in my bedroom and I couldn't help but feel for the little guy. There's really little I can do. Oh, I could try moving them but why touch them at all? They are kind of creepy, to be honest.

Later, Papa calls with one of his usual check-ins. He asks about my week and I let him know that he will be seeing me on screen soon. He's excited to hear that but I must tamper his expectations and let him know that it's really just a couple of commercials, blink and you might miss them. He's proud all the same because of course he is, I can always count on his support.

One upside to acting is the flexible schedule. It's not your usual 9 to 5. Some days are hectic, sure, but others are wide open and give me nothing but time. With that time I wander the city a little but you could guess that I would end up at Starlight Boulevard and before the Walk of Stars.

I stop before a blank star and I can see it now. My name carved there for all of time. It oculd be this one or one over there or there or really anywhere, this walk will find space for Magdalena.

A quiet little command echoes through my mind: Be Memorable.

I wanted to go home after that, go over my lines and prepare for my audition, but a stranger catches my eye at the nearby park. Confident, that's what he oozed, and he was watching me in that bold way, posture alone bringing me closer to him step by step. I should mention that he wore a cowboy hat and boots along with it.

"Haven't seen you around and I'm out here every day," he speaks in a lazy but smooth tone. His sunglasses hide his eyes but I know he's checking me out.

"Magdalena," I say offering him a smile. "You can call me Mags or Lena, either one works."

"I'm not a big fan of nicknames so let's stick with Magdalena."

We sit and talk a while. I'm curious about him, he's got a flashy look, too much jewelry and all of it screams 'Look at me' and again, those cowboy boots don't fit a casual city park. Normally, I'd avoid a man like this, looks like the kind of guy that my sister Carina would be all over, shady guys that talk big and carry trouble around them like it their wallet...and yet I'm still curious.

Eventually, I learn that he's a music producer and he uses that to explain his style.

"It's just packaging," he says with a little laugh. "Gotta sell the image before you can sell the sound."

I exhale, just a little bit because I was worried that he was a drug dealer or something worse. "Oh, a musician? What genre?"

"I just produce, so no genre, don't want to limit myself. I put my music out there and hope that someone finds use for it."

"Ahh, behind the scenes then?"

He nods, "Yep, behind the scenes, I don't dig the spotlight too much, I just have passion for the music and want to create something real."

"I see," and now I go from intrigued to interested. Marco was fire and desire, pure impulse and instinct. Aaron, yes, that is his name, is something else. Grounded. He's just starting his career, dreaming dreams that are similar to mines I am sure, and he feels more my equal than Marco does.

"You uh, an actress, yeah?" he asks.

For some reason I laugh, partly because I am enjoying the conversation and partly because it seems silly to say with my little commercial roles. "Yeah, I'm trying at least! I do have a pretty big audition later today and so I can't stay and talk for too long."

"Yeah, no worries, can I have your phone-"

"Of course! See you around!"

Back at home and Bruno greets me as if i've been gone for years. Tail wagging and he's bouncing with joy. He's so sweet! I hate that I can't stay for long so I feed his food bowl and grab a plate of brownies because its all I can have before going out again and I can't even afford much because the bills leave me with only 120 simoleons...

But I'm not going to panic because I have an audition to crush! Wish me luck!

Index ~ Elsewhere...

[amiethyztt]

Eat up lunch is ready

[blbllblblblll]

aaron fr.

Sebastian: That's why we needed to get an expert.

MC: Really? Who?

Sebastian:

MC: Oh! Yes... Right... That's me.

[justjakesfine]

Me watching a man set himself on fire on the news only for the internet to care more about some random YouTuber drama

[blbllblblblll]

HERE HE IS!!! I LOVE HIM SO MUCH EHEHHE

hes mostly based on irl me,, his names aaron soot, hes a fifth year animagis that loves to doodle in class :)

thanks again @kiwiplaetzchen for the ref sheet,, you can find it here :)

if you wanna know more about him ask me in my inbox :D

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

I love how you characterize Aaron Hotchner! Would you please write something for him along with the quote ‘keep your eyes open, sweetheart’? Completely up to you, but was definitely thinking about some heavy angst 🙃🙃

"look at me" - hotch x gn!bau!reader - 985 words

cw: injuries and depictions of violence, general angst, anxiety, hotch literally just being a hero as per freakin usual

why hello my love! thank you sm for this request <3

i don't write a lot of angst, it's certainly something i need practice with! but i really enjoyed writing this and i smooch ur lil forehead

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

People always say that in a near-death experience, your whole life flashes before your eyes. 

Not yours. 

You didn’t see your whole life, no. You saw bits and pieces - learning to ride a bike, walking at your high school graduation, pinning your FBI badge to your blazer. And then you just saw Aaron. 

The first time you met, shaking hands as a brazen formality in the middle of a case, feeling his deep, brown eyes scrutinize your every move, watching him watch you. He was testing you back then, seeing if you’d be a good fit for the team.

The first real conversation you shared with him - The Beatles, which song was his favorite? Laughing at him when he said Yellow Submarine. 

When he held your hand for the first and only time on a particularly rough case, about four months ago, and promised you that things would get better. 

When you comforted him for the first time, about three months ago, after Haley left him. You promised him that everything happens for a reason. 

Five minutes ago, when you told him you felt certain the unsubs were going to strike again. You felt it in the pits of your stomach, you told Aaron. And he just nodded and said he trusted your intuition. Then he held the door open for you, and led you out of the police station, into the dead-quiet night of the street.  

He clicked the key fob in his hand, and the SUV burst into red-hot flames and sent you both flying. You were immediately knocked unconscious, your body thrust out into the street flippantly, like someone had simply thrown a baseball. 

You come to on the concrete, your head pounding. All sound is muffled, but you see Aaron on his knees, hovering over you. His face is covered in dirt and soot and blood, and he keeps cupping his hand over his ear. 

“ - hear me?” Sound is restored in the middle of Aaron’s question. It’s abrupt, like someone changing the channel on the TV, but you can hear again. You feel dizzy and disoriented as you prop yourself up on your elbows. 

“Stay down,” Aaron instructs, guiding you gently to lay flat on your back once again. Your entire body is throbbing. 

“Aaron,” you feel a panicked, whispered sob escape you. He grabs your hand and you feel him squeeze it. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. You feel dizzy, like you might pass out again and Aaron’s grip tightens around your hand. “It hurts.” 

“Keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart. Please?” The endearment rolls off of Aaron’s tongue like he’s said it a million times before. He hasn’t. Your relationship with him has been professional-ish up until this point. You’re not sure how he feels about you, exactly, but at this moment, it doesn’t matter. 

 He doesn’t even acknowledge that he said it. “What hurts?” Aaron’s speaking loudly, like someone who has headphones in. His hand is still pressed against his ear. 

“All of it,” you murmur. “Everything.” 

You feel tears in your eyes. Your stomach is in knots and you feel like someone is sitting on your chest. You blink a few times, feeling the tears drip down your face and onto your lips, salty and full of dread. 

Aaron’s checking you over, you realize, lifting your head gently and quickly to make sure you’re not bleeding. He’s talking to you, telling you what he’s doing so you don’t panic even more. He uses feather-light touches to lift your arm, and pain shocks you, coursing through your wrist. “Shh, hey, I’m sorry,” he says, laying your arm by your side. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Your wrist is broken.” 

You blink a few tears away. 

“I’m going to pick you up, Y/N,” he tells you. He never calls you by your first name, but you’re in so much pain that you can’t even be jarred by it. “Can you move your other arm?” 

It feels laden, but you can. You nod and whimper in confirmation. 

“Can you hook it around my neck?” He asks as he slides his hands under you. The crooks of your knees and your back are cradled by Aaron’s arms and you wrap your arm around his neck. Once he determines you’re stable in his arms, he lifts you up. You hear sirens blaring as they get closer, and you see Aaron grimace. You feel his body tense up, his fingers curl around the fabric of your shirt. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask him in an unfiltered mumble, sniffling as he carries you towards the nearest ambulance. 

“It’s just my ear. I’m fine, Y/N. I’ll be fine,” he promises, but you feel how labored his gait is. It’s taking everything in him to carry you to the ambulance. You want to tell him to stop, to remind him that the paramedics can bring the gurney to you. But you’re so tired, so dizzy. You think maybe if you just rest your eyes a little bit, you might feel better. Your head tilts to rest in the crook of Aaron’s neck. Your eyes flutter shut. 

“Y/N, you might have a concussion. You have to stay awake, okay?” Aaron’s voice draws you back. Your eyes are shaky when they open, and you see him looking at you with weighted concern as he sets you onto the gurney. 

The paramedics load you shakily up into the ambulance, and you reach your uninjured arm out. “You’re going to the hospital with me, right?” You ask. 

Aaron nods, climbing in after the paramedics and sitting beside you. His eyes are piercing and full of consternation as he takes your uninjured hand in both of his. He runs his fingertips over your knuckles, nodding assuredly, though you are certain he is feeling exactly the opposite.  “Yeah. Of course. I’m not going to leave you.”

[la1n3ybaby]

music redacted guys listen to and i’m right:

david: coldplay

asher: fall out boy

milo: arctic monkeys

vincent: panic! at the disco

sam: johnny cash

porter: MSI (projecting)

avoir: tv girl

gavin: maneskin

damien: dead kennedys

huxley: backstreet boys

lasko: glass animals

elliott: waterparks

aaron: probably storm sounds or podcasts idk smth boring asf

geordi: taylor swift

oliver: the moldy peaches

hush: idk white noise?

kody: weezer (/neg)

anton: misfits

marcus: wilbur soot (/neg)

blake: lil peep

ivan: radiohead

guy: panic! and gorillaz (and weezer but /pos)

morgan: frank ocean (idek who he is tbh but he seems like a chill guy who just vibes)

[theparadisepress]

I must know, would you wear this

Thank you for the question!

[transcript below!]

fallingsoul3 :

I must know, would you wear this [a screenshot of aaron burr's brown outfit from hamilton: an american musical]

Wilbur Soot :

Yes, absolutely, someone get me one immediately.

[just-moondust]

Honey & Herbal Tea

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Aaron Hotchner x Fem OC

Summary: During an investigation, Hotch ends up being dragged out of a burning building by a fire captain. One he now kinda has feelings for.

A/N: Hotch kinda acts more like Thomas in this, with the giggles and all.

I know I'm a shitty writer, but hey, gotta write my own stuff sometime. This will have more parts eventually, just kinda testing the waters with this...

‐‐-----‐------‐-------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron Hotchner wasn't one to be speechless, but today had been one of those days.

Paramedics were scattered around the scene treating burns and comforting distraught victims. One in particular had been adamant that he stay put till he could get checked out for injuries, but the medical teams were stretched thin as is.

He watched, still a little dazed as the firefighters combed through the smouldering ruins of what was once an office building. One that he had barely made it out of alive. They were too late figuring out that this place was latest on the unsub's list of places to burn. As a result, more than a few people had been hurt. Thankfully no one had been killed. Whether that was down to his own stupidity for choosing to stay in a burning building to help evacuations or just plain luck, he wasn't sure. Either way, being slung over the shoulder of a freakishly strong female fire captain and rescued wasn't in his expectations.

The very same fire captain that was stalking towards him with a furious look on her face.

“Are you stupid?!”

She yells, though he's so taken aback at her aggression he doesn't answer, just blankly staring at her covered in soot. Freckles peak through the dirt on the tip of her nose and where she's away wiped sweat from her forehead.

When he stays quiet, her face turns to concern and she looks him up and down.

“Agent?”

She pulls off a glove and rummages around in the medical kit beside him for an examination pen light, shining in his eyes. It forces him to blink and snap out of whatever trace he was in.

“I-I'm fine” He tries to sound convincing, but all the smoke he'd breathed in had just made his voice crack and the captain shakes her head.

“No, you were in a fire without proper breathing apparatus. So you need to go to the hospital.”

Her voice is stern, almost matching his own when he's ordering his own team. He's not used to being ordered around, and he wasn't about to waste a time on a trip to the emergency room.

“No I don't have time for that-”

Aaron pulls off the oxygen mask and starts to get up, but she pushes him back down on the step of the ambulance, a frown of annoyance now on her face.

“Listen to me very carefully, Agent. You have symptoms of smoke inhalation and you may feel fine now, but if you go home without treatment, it will get worse and you'll die.”

Aaron could see this was an argument he wasn't going to win, this woman was pretty adamant.

The thought of Jack alone crossed his mind and he nods reluctantly, the captain's face softens .

“Good. Make sure you get some rest.”

She pats his shoulder, turning to Morgan and Emily who have appeared at the side of the ambulance, having apparently watched this whole exchange.

“Make sure he goes to the emergency room. Order him if you have to.”

She says, heading back to the singed ruin.

“You heard the lady” Morgan smirks, helping him to his feet. “Let's get you to the hospital”

If Aaron could speak without coughing his lungs up, he'd probably have told Morgan to shove it. He instead shoots him a look of disapproval as he slumps in the back of the suv with several bottles of water.

***

A few days later and he still can't get the dryness out of his throat. He's standing in the BAU kitchen stirring powdered flu medication into his morning coffee, clearing his throat.

“I find herbal tea and honey the best relief.”

He jumps slightly and spins around to the familiar voice.

A light copper haired, freckled faced woman leans against the opposite counter, her dark eyes watch him with amusement as he recognises the now clean and composed fire captain.

“Captain Kneath?”

She nods at the acknowledgement, unfolding her toned arms to reveal a folder tucked underneath that she waves in Aaron's direction.

“I have the latest arson report. I was told to deliver it to the agent in charge.”

He raises an eyebrow, realising she doesn't know she's talking to him.

“Sure, I'll take you to his office.”

She follows as he walks across the empty bullpen and up to his office. She lingers in the doorway as she watches him sit down at his desk and stare at her blankly. She returns the blank look, a thin smile forms on her lips.

“Very funny,” she pulls the door to, reading his name off it, “Agent…Hotchner.”

Aaron shrugs nonchalantly, though inside, he's very proud of his little joke.

She slides the report across his desk and sits in one of the chairs in front of it, smoothing her crisp shirt down as she crosses her legs, waiting for him to read it. In the silence, she glances around his office, taking in the sight of the trinkets and photographs. One in particular catching her eye, Agent Hotchner and a younger boy she could only assume was his son. Cute kid she thinks, not realising the Agent had finished skimming through the report and was observing her.

“So the source of ignition was thermite?” He asks, drawing her attention back to him.

“Yeah, it's pretty common for arsonists. And you can buy it legally.” She sighs, “sorry it doesn't exactly narrow down your suspect list.”

Aaron raises his palms to disagree, “you'd be surprised what tiny details can help. Thank you, Captain.”

He offers his hand, which she accepts with a firm grip.

“And uh, thanks for the rescue.’

That lightens her mood. Even if it does cost him a little dignity. The smile lines and creases by her eyes become more defined as a quiet chuckle escapes her.

“You're Welcome. Just don't do it again, Agent Hotchner.”

She backs out of his office with a smirk, leaving Aaron with an uncomfortably hot blush on his face. One he can't cover before Rossi enters the room, double taking at the departing Captain. The look on his face tells all before he's even opened his mouth.

“Dave, don't.”

Rossi pleads ignorance, “what? I never said anything.” He makes himself comfortable in the previously occupied seat, nosing through the arson report.

“I'm just saying, she's pretty smokin’. Pun intended.”

“Please, stop…”

“Oh look, she left her number on the report. For official queries though.”

Hotch sighs loudly, airing that his patience was wearing thin. He knew Dave was only teasing, but it was the last thing he needed.

After a long, gruelling brainstorming session, the team came to the unwanted conclusion that it could only be a firefighter setting such the blazes. That meant questioning the responders.

Before Aaron can even begin to dish out assignments, Rossi volunteers himself and Aaron to go to the downtown station.

They bring Reid along, mainly because Aaron knows he'll stay focused on the work.

As the three of them enter the open bay, they're greeted by a group of firefighters who look up from the kit they're inspecting, faces dropping to looks of aversion when federal badges are shown.

One reluctantly shows Aaron up to their captain's office, knocking on the open door.

“Cap, feds are here.”

She briefly glances up from what she's typing, spotting Aaron behind the shorter woman in the doorframe, an eyebrow raised in interest.

“Thanks, Em. Tell the others to play nicely please?”

She nods, letting Aaron into the office, not before passing him with a glare as she heads back downstairs.

“They know why you're here, that's why they're being so hostile…”

Kneath says, continuing to type away. She makes a gesture for him to sit and he obliges. The similarity of the scene from this morning in his head as he inspects the shelves behind her. Books, old helmets and a singular photograph. Looked so be the entire crew with a few extra family members gathered round a loaded up Christmas dinner table. Happy smiles on everyone.

The sound of the captain's laptop shutting brings Aaron's attention back. Her face appearing more stern than disapproving, her hands rest atop of the closed laptop together. Why did he feel like he was about to get told off?

“Agent Hotchner, it may not be a surprise to know that I'm quite familiar with the profiles of arsonists.” She begins to explain, he doesn't interrupt, opting to hear what she has to say.

“I know that you're here because there is a theory that firefighters are often responsible for these specific types of fires. That they're often male, white, young and have a history of trouble.” Her eyes narrow and she leans forward, “That's just under half my team. And while I appreciate you have a job to do, what I don't like is the fact you didn't think to consult me first before interrogating my guys.”

Aaron takes a moment, he feels like he's 16 year old again, being lectured by the young teacher in high school he'd had a crush on for getting into too many fights. He didn't really think straight then either.

“Captain, you're right and I apologise,”

He swallows, fighting the urge to look away from her face and down to his lap.

“But we still need to question everyone. Any details, no matter how small, are important.”

She sighs, rubbing her temples as she thinks it over.

“Fine. You can ask questions. But I will be present as well as a union rep, if they choose to have one there.”

Aaron sees this as good as it's going to get, nodding in agreement.

“Come back tomorrow, I'll have everything ready.”

They both stand, walking down to the bay to Rossi and Reid in some kind of territorial standoff with two of the men.

“Griff, Phil, that's enough.”

She calls, and the two back off. Aaron can't help the nerves from somewhere in his stomach emerging at her authority over them, her composure, her voice sounding so stern. Did he even find it.. attractive?

Rossi certainly knew he did by the smug look on his face when he spots Aaron's split second look of distress from his internal debate.

He waits till they're back in the car to start digging for details.

“So we like a woman in charge now, hmm?”

Hotch tightens his grip on the wheel, refusing to play along with the tease. Reid however, hasn't had the memo.

“What'd you mean?” He asks, popping his head between the front seats, looking at Rossi, who's in turn still smirking at Aaron.

“Hotch has the hots for the lady fire captain…”

“What? No way” Reid frowns, looking between the two of them, “right?”

“I can fire both of you.”

“Hmm interesting choice of words-”

“Shut up, Dave.”

***

“Thank you Emma, you can go. Send in Callum next.”

Captain Kneath says as the fifth interview is concluded. She sighs heavily, her fingers pinch the bridge of her nose as she paces behind Reid and Hotch at a table.

This wasn't looking good for a few of her crew, the feeling of unease that someone in her crew was responsible. The loyalty they all had to one another was becoming a problem, though she felt she was the one betraying that trust by letting this whole thing happen.

“We can take a break, Captain?”

The older agent suggests from his spot in the corner of the room, but she dismisses the idea.

“No, it's alright. I want this over as soon as possible..”

The next interviewee appears in the doorway, she looks up at the newest addition to her team with an eased smile.

“Callum, please have a seat. This is the station's union rep, Graeme. Are you happy for him to sit in?”

“Uh, yeah…Sure Cap.”

The two shake hands briefly as Callum sits with him opposite the two federal agents as they introduce themselves.

“Can you tell us your whereabouts on Tuesday from 5:45 am to 6:30 am?”

“I was here, on shift. Cap was here too, she saw me.”

She nods when Aaron glances over his shoulder at her for verification. He scribbles down a note before asking the next few questions. Callum seems to be the most cooperative yet, maybe due to his status as the newbie. He wasn't quite all in on the family bond the rest of them shared.

“And did you notice anything unusual about your colleagues' behaviour before you were dispatched to the fire?”

He shakes his head.

“Everyone was cranky. We were about to clock off and then we had another 4 hours of work”

“What about during the response?”

He lets out a frustrated sigh as he thinks back, shifting in his seat as he looks up at his Captain for a second. She catches on, her face softening as she notices.

“Cal if you think somethings wrong, say it” she encourages gently, the young man nods, looking back at Reid and Hotch.

“When we were looking for signs of a reflash…I was with Griff in the sublevel, he told me to split off. And I know you say that's the number one no go Cap, but we were all tired and wanted to get the job done faster…”

Kneath audibly exhales through her nose, her face resting in her hand to keep her disappointment hidden from him.

“...when I'd cleared my half, I went back to find Griff, he was picking up something and he put it in the pocket of his tunic…”

“Did you see what it was?”

“No, I was too far away” Callum shakes his head again, looking back up at his captain with an apologetic look.

“Cap, I'm real sorry-” He starts, but she raises a hand to cut him off.

“We'll talk about this later Cal. Is that everything agents?”

Hotch agrees and Cal is dismissed. Captain Kneath begins her pacing again, but the calmness she had before is now some kind of amused annoyance as the agents all look at one another.

“I can't believe this” she laughs, “they all know there are procedures for a reason. Griff, most of all.”

“How so?” Reid asks, sensing there's a tension between them. She shakes her head, beginning to unfold the story.

“Griff and I were both in line for the captain job. But he's reckless and cuts corners for efficiency and it got one of our own killed.”

The bitterness in her tone says all, a frustration that a few others in the crew no doubt harbour.

“Do you want him back in here?” She asks, the agents nod.

“We need his permission to search his belongings. If he still has whatever he took from the scene, it may be here.”

She calmly requests the rep to fetch her disgruntled lieutenant.

“He won't give you permission. Even if he had nothing to hide, he wouldn't.”

Hotch and Rossi exchange a look before Aaron stands up, “Captain, perhaps it would be better if we spoke to Lieutenant Griffiths without you present, given the strained relationship between you.”

The suggestion is accepted, and she follows Aaron back to her office, leaving Rossi and Reid to the questioning.

He shuts the door behind them and she slumps down in her desk chair, shutting her eyes and taking several deep breaths.

He takes a seat on the other side, observing her stress.

“Captain I understand you're frustrated-”

“Seren.” She corrects him, “ I don't think I can really say what I want to say as a captain.”

He nods, crossing his legs and sitting back in the chair. He's had members of his team under suspicion before, but never a betrayal that it looked like this was heading for. He can't blame her for wanting to kick and scream. He felt that way too sometimes. It was after all, as they say, lonely at the top.

“He is one stubborn son of a bitch. He hates that I got the job over him. Even after he got Jason killed….” She trails off, shaking her head in hurt.

“He's misogynistic and he's disobedient! Thinks because I'm a woman, I'm too soft on everyone. And don't get me started on the rumours he started…”

She sighs heavily, seemingly to have got the worst of her grievances out.

Aaron's eyebrows raise at the mention of gossip, but he doesn't press it. He can guess what it is, so instead he considers the position it puts her in, something that he'd never have to experience. Is this how JJ and Emily feel? He can't say he understands her.

“From what I've seen of this station and its crew, I think it's clear you were the correct choice.”

He says with a small smile involuntarily curling at the edges of his mouth.

She seems to accept the compliment reluctantly, a thin smile on her lips.

“Thanks, Agent Hotchner.”

“Aaron. Please.”

“Thank you then, Aaron.” She says, the tension of the situation beginning to ease a little. They wait in silence a few minutes more, then there's a commotion outside. When they both get downstairs, Rossi has Griff in cuffs on the ground and he's yelling at Callum for snitching. The rest of the crew are gathered round in stunned silence, one that Seren joins.

“What happened?” Hotch asks Reid, who's holding a makeshift evidence bag.

“We found what was left of the thermite container in his locker and he tried to run…”

“...and you both took down a 178 lbs guy?”

He asks in disbelief. Rossi perks up as he hauls Griff to his feet, who's now uttering insults towards Seren under his breath.

“Actually, we had help” He grins, gesturing to the crew around them.

“Well no one's gonna bad mouth our captain and get away with it,” one says.

Seren feels her heart swell with a little pride at her team as she realises they really didn't think less of her for going along with the intrusive investigation.

“It seems like Lieutenant Griffiths here, had quite the vendetta against you Captain.”

Rossi explains, returning from putting Griff in the car. Though that still doesn't answer the million questions she has.

“I don't get it though, why target those buildings? If he wanted to get rid of me, he could've done it in easier ways…”

She frowns, crossing her arms, looking between the agent for answers.

“We'll know more when we question him.” Aaron says, “for now, just try to put it to the back of your head.”

She nods, “please keep us updated” she asks as they head towards the car. “And thank you!” She calls after them, and heads back inside.

***

“Sorry I'm late” Seren apologises, taking the opposite seat to Aaron. He glances at his watch and grins, seeing she's only over by a few minutes.

“Busy day?” He wonders, she gives a wide eyed nod.

“Like you wouldn't believe. Though things are running alot smoother now I have a Lieutenant that actually works with me.”

Aaron nods along, pleased things had turned out okay.

Things had gotten a little messy during the court case, but Seren had kept her composure unlike her opposition. His legal counsel had reverted to trying to discredit her, that's when Aaron had heard the rumour she'd mentioned.

There was of course, no truth behind it. But she'd sat through the questions and the slut shaming till the jury was satisfied. Aaron felt angry for her. Emily saw it, the silent look of judgement Hotch so often wore in interrogations when people are undoubtedly guilty and still denying it.

She'd told him that it was an unfortunate truth about women in power, even having experienced it herself.

Aaron was aware of it, even realising he'd been quicker to jump to conclusions about how capable his female colleagues were. But seeing it so blatantly used was infuriating.

He'd met up with her several times after the court case had ended, much to Rossi's delight. Though he told himself it was more out of a sense of obligation.

They talked, got on more of a first name basis. She'd laughed at his little efforts at jokes and listened when he had shared frustrations.

Aaron was alot more involved than he knew he should have been. The stickler for procedure, the drill sergeant, as Morgan had once put it. Despite that and the persistent comments from Rossi, he'd worked up the nerve to ask for a date.

And now she was sitting across from him, cradling the cup of chamomile tea with honey in her hands. Wisps of stray hairs fall down the side of her face, having escaped the tight bun the rest of hair was still pulled back into. Her soft smile changes as she recalls a particularly funny rescue that has Aaron blurting out a giggle. He couldn't help it, but she noticed. Her eyes widen in surprise and her smile follows suit. His cheeks go red when she says it's cute.

God he was a mess in front of this woman.

Soon it's late, and the baristas behind the counter are shooting them looks till they take the hint to leave. They walk slowly and closely, fingers occasionally brushing as they exchange glances and words in the evening breeze till they're at her doorstep. They stand in silence a moment, wondering which of them would be the braver one. It's her of course, Aaron watches in mild amusement as she climbs two steps and pulls him by his tie into a kiss that he gladly accepts.

The sweet taste of honey and herbal tea lingers on his lips when she pulls away and says goodnight, leaving him in some kind of weak-legged, giddy state to wander home in.

[moralesmilesanhour]

if you believe in me - 04.2

summary: a very brief intermission. between aaron and his father, miles wonders who he takes after more. wc: 1.5k a/n: this chapter is me trying to get back into the swing of things before the next major plot point (!!!) so this might feel a little slower and more introspective. thanks for reading! (reblog with ur favorite comic or manga if u want idk) taglist: @shuna-boin @aloraangelix @vhstown @sillykirb @proudgojofucker @weirdducky17 @milesandcorysupermacy prev. next

BOOM!

Miles hits the ground shoulder-first with a dull thud, the storage building bursting into flames behind him.

I’m gonna feel that one later, he thinks as he rolls to his feet and back into a sprint. But Oscorp’s gonna feel it, too.

With a leap and a shot of his grappling hook, it’s not long before he’s back on the sidewalk, with Aaron waiting around the corner. The older man has completely retired the Prowler suit now.

“Not bad for your first solo run,” he nods. “Could still be a lil’ quicker, but you’ll pick it up.”

Miles twists the joints of his metal claws. The steel is still shiny and new, save for a bit of soot from the explosion. The purple glow disappears as they power down with a quiet whir and detach to reveal the human flesh underneath. They work like a charm so far.

It’s been two weeks, but he hasn’t gotten to use them - Aaron has yet to send him on a mission where he’d have to. He wants to ask his uncle about it, ask why he let him do all that welding and tinkering if the claws were just for show. But Miles knows that if he does, the man’s brows would furrow and he’d get a stern speech about not getting too eager about that sort of thing. And he’d be right. 

So, like every other night, Miles says nothing but “thanks”.

“And what’s this one about?” 

You pointed at a comic sitting on the far side of Miles’ bed. On the cover stood a man wearing what looked like some imagined version of an “African” headdress. He was shirtless and dressed in nothing but shorts and brightly-colored boots, like the costume of a wrestler. The upper half of his face was obscured by a mask with white eyes tied around his head. The flat colors and dark lines make it look old, likely from the 80s or early 90s. Above the man on the cover was the title in bold graphic font: Anansi.

“You don’t know ‘Anansi’?” Miles asked with wide eyes before shaking his head. “Nah, we gotta fix that.”

He threw what he was reading aside, hovering his hand over the pile of comics until he located the very first issue. 

“So Anansi is like, this spider that gets turned into a human who has the abilities of a spider. Y’know, climbing up walls and shit.”

“Does he shoot webs out of his ass?”

“That’s not how that works, and no. Anyway, he’s got spider powers and he beats the bad guys by being a trickster instead of just brute force.”

You took the comic from him and began leafing through the worn pages, frankly more interested in the art than the plot. The sharp lines and crosshatching remind you of Miles’ sketches. You turned to Miles and held it up once you were finished looking at it.

“Can I borrow it?” 

There’s a shadow of uncertainty that crosses his face for a moment as you await his answer. 

“Mmm…I dunno. I’ve had that thing since I was ten. You gonna be careful with it?”

You place a hand over your heart. 

“Promise.”

He snorts, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I’ll let you have it for a week, sound good?”

“Good.”

Miles remembers that he’s supposed to ask for his comic back on the way home, the two metal claws tucked safely into his backpack.

He sneaks a glance at his uncle, and tries to copy his stride when he walks. It looks easy, but there’s a rhythm to it. Miles keeps his gaze low, but his steps lively. The key is not to show the sweat, as they say. All of one’s effort goes into making it look like there’s no effort at all. 

Aaron looks over at his nephew, and chuckles.

“Remind me of your old man when you walk like that,” he says. 

Miles grins good-naturedly. Guess the sweat shows. But it’s fine, for now.

“What’s that mean?”

“When we was young, we used to watch the older kids walk out the corner store and try to copy ‘em. The way your pops did it…”

The man’s shoulders shook with laughter at the memory.

“He kinda looked like, like he was marching almost. Just stomping down that sidewalk!”

Aaron began to demonstrate, making his steps quicker and heavier.

“I look like that?” 

Miles wrinkled his nose and began to tone down his swaying.

“Exactly like that. Shit’s kinda amazing, really. Genetics.”

“I don’t think that’s how genetics work.”

“Oh yeah?” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Then how come I got you stealing like my pops and me, and in my colors?”

Miles laughed, “But this is good stealing!”

“You got a point there.”

Aaron lifted his gaze upward towards the skyline. The moon was out in full tonight.

“Did y’all make good money, at least?”

“Sure did. Sometimes it was the only money that came in, that’s why we ain’t stop.”

There’s a beat of silence. Miles pats his left pocket to make sure the wad of cash is still there, and wonders if his uncle had to do the same thing, or if he kept it in a fanny pack or briefcase.

“So what made you finally give it up?”

“Oh, that one’s easy. Jeff did it for your mom. Hard to keep secrets with a baby on the way.”

Miles tried to picture a younger version of his father – less facial hair, no eye bags, better eyesight, probably – looking a pregnant Rio in the eye as she broke the news. He looks into her gentle face and…yes, there. Right there is when he decides it’s over. 

Even without the whole parenting thing, it probably killed him inside to have to lie to her every night about where he’s been. Miles gets it.

“What about you?”

Aaron shrugged.

“Couldn’t leave my nephew hanging.”

He had knocked on Miles’ door after a few weeks of radio silence and found the kid lying in bed, surrounded by dirty clothes and snack wrappers. The room smelt of stale sweat, the clothes piled up on the floor impossible to get through, so Aaron elected to stand just outside.

Miles looked up, and suddenly the man understood what had Rio so frantic on the phone. 

The boy’s gaze was…vacant. Like he was looking through him, at something far off in the distance. There were no words comforting enough to turn the lights back on behind those eyes. So Aaron had done the next best thing:

“Go wash up, we goin’ out.”

Miles doesn’t remember it that way. He hardly remembers anything from that period of time between the funeral and his uncle barging into his room. Just a long stretch of gray, and then the door cracks open, then he’s in the shower realizing how long his hair’s gotten, and soon he’s dodging the punching bag in Aaron’s apartment, carrying crates back and forth and maybe blowing some up on occasion. 

He knows in his head that he’s doing this to hurt the pockets of invisible men hiding in their glass skyscrapers and high-rise offices, and he’s as angry at them for sucking the life out of his neighborhood as he’s always been. 

But it had started with the door, cracked open just enough for his uncle’s face to poke through. Otherwise, Miles might’ve been content to lie there and become one with his mattress as he missed another week of school.

He wonders if his father went on those runs because he, too, looked into his future and hadn’t the slightest idea as to what he was looking at. 

Miles’ thoughts are interrupted when his phone buzzes in his pocket. You have his Anansi issue.

“So this is all you do in your free time, then? Comics and robots?”

Miles has his nose in another shounen manga.

“Is that a bad thing?”

You remember the helmet, and the parts set in neat little rows. And the tarp in Uncle Aaron’s car.

“Not for the most part. More interesting than what I do.”

Miles finally looks up, and squints. “What do you do in your free time?”

“I braid hair,” you reply with a bit of pride. “Pretty good at it, too.”

“Mm-hm, that’s what they all say before they fuck yo’ shit up,” he jokes, earning an issue of Jujutsu Kaisen to the face.

“Ow!”

“Shut up, with them fuzzy ass braids.”

Miles gasped dramatically. “You said they looked nice!”

“Looked. Past-tense.”

“Chill on me, my mom didn’t have time to re-do ‘em this week.”

Seeing an opportunity, your eyes lit up.

“Ooh, let me–”

“No.”

Miles narrowed his eyes at you.

“Aw, come on! You have so much hair, it could be fun! And you said you’d let me.”

You reached out to touch one of Miles’ overgrown braids but ended up swiping the air as he dodged your hand.

“I said ‘maybe’, and now the answer is no. You’re gonna ‘have fun’ in my hair? Like you ‘had fun’ with my t-shirt? I know you stole it, by the way.”

“I up-cycled it.”

“Cutting a shirt in half is not up-cycling, and you’re not touching my head.”

“You're so mean.”

[ifitmeanslosingyouthenno]

is it heaven up there? (it's hell down here)

day 25 whumptober prompt: surgery | “it’s for your own good”

day 26 whumptober prompt: nightmares

it takes 3 hours and 16 minutes for the firefighters to put out the fire, remove the debris on top of fox tower enough to start pulling bodies

it takes another hour and 36 minutes for them to find neil

for them to take his body out of rubble, barely breathing, eyelids fluttering from where andrew sees him

he's too far away for andrew to check the damage, but his left arm is covered in soot and blood and blisters and

they won't let andrew near him, even if he struggles against the hands and the bodies

“sir it's dangerous for you to be hanging around here, i need to ask you to step away”

he hates talking to pigs, so he directs his focus to the firefighter

“i have to be there with him”

the firefighter looks towards neil following andrew’s gaze, “the redhead? do you know him?”

he grits his teeth so hard they feel like they're going to shatter

“his name is neil, he's my boyfriend”

her gaze softens, looking back at where the paramedics frantically check neil's eyes with a phone lamp, then back at the cops beside her, and finally back to andrew

“okay fine, i heard he's in pretty bad shape, you can ride with him on the ambulance”

he doesn't wait for any more acknowledgement, shrugging off the hands and the memories and the panic trying to drown him 

neil fucking needs him

when he reaches him, he understands why the firefighter let him close 

neil is covered in burns, every skin surface that meets andrew's eyes peeling and blistering and raw and red– 

his left leg is fucking mangled, a mess of torn skin and live muscle and–

andrew can see his fucking bone

the worst part is that his eyes are struggling to remain open

neil is awake 

there’s a collar around his throat, keeping him from moving, and he’s making these horrible fucking sounds and he’s fucking panicking but he’s restrained and

“sir, sir are you his family? can you tell me his name?”

neil doesn’t speak, just lets out weak wheezes and whines and they’re shoving an oxygen mask on his face

don’t touch him, he wants to tell them, to scream to yell to cry, don’t fucking touch my neil

but he knows they only want to help, knows they are there to help

his skin crawls as if it’s him on that stretcher with strangers touching him

“his name is neil josten, and everyone in his biological family is dead, i’m his boyfriend, i’m the closest thing he has to a family”

for some reason that makes the paramedic talking to him falter for a second, but he shakes it off quickly, “right, well, we’re going to need you to come with us to the hospital then, he’s going to need emergency surgery and he’s going to need someone to be there for him”

he watches as they roll neil a mumbling neil into the ambulance numbly, and hops inside without a second thought, watches as the paramedic shuts the door and hops on the drivers seat, taking off and turning the siren on at once

hospital

emergency surgery 

someone to be there for him

wait

andrew’s in too deep for this

the other foxes were waiting with him

shit–

“his poa is our coach”

they’re hooking neil up to a bunch of different wires and monitors and things aaron would understand so much better than him, and the paramedic just hums in question, but turns to look at andrew in question

andrew hates repeating himself

“his power of attorney is our coach, we left him at the building”

the paramedic mutters under her breath, just putting something on neil’s finger before 

“let him know to rush to the hospital right now, we need him there”

andrew’s hands tremble too much for him to text wymack, so he presses the call button instead

“andrew? when the fuck did you leave? how is neil?”

he wants this to be a nightmare, wants to wake up and find neil wrapped up in his arms, safe and sound in their dorm at fox tower and everything is fine, they’re fine, neil is fine

he can’t fucking speak

“kid, put him on speaker”

the paramedic must see the panic on his eyes, and normally he’d hate to follow orders but now he’s frozen

god he’s fucking terrified

he puts the phone on speaker to the sound of wymack repeating his name

“hi, this is paramedic martinez, i’m on the ambulance with neil josten and i need you to get to redding center right now, he’s going to need extensive care and most likely surgery and um, your guy here says you’re mr. josten’s poa, so we’re going to need you there”

“i’ll be right there, andrew, don’t hang up, tell me how things are looking”

andrew can’t answer him, god he can’t fucking breathe, he can’t fucking do this, not again, he can’t–

“andrew is busy holding neil’s hand right now,” the angel that is the paramedic says, giving andrew a sharp look, and despite his skin burning, he holds onto neil’s hand, “but i can catch you up, we’re looking at a possible ruptured lung, rib fractures, internal injuries to his abdomen because there’s free fluid in there, a pretty bad and exposed leg fracture, and we have high suspicions of spinal injury, but we can’t be sure just yet, we just know that he will need emergency surgery and scans and we need you there”

“okay, okay, i’m going to be there as fast as i can, andrew make sure that idiot makes it, okay? make sure you both do”

he doesn’t reply, just hangs up to the pitiful stare of paramedic martinez

he wants to wake up, he wants to wake up, he wants to wake up

he hears spluttering, and his head snaps to neil, fumbling and struggling to take the oxygen mask off his face

“shit, no, hey it’s okay, don’t take that off, it’s okay”

neil’s eyes are wide open and they’re staring right at andrew, eyes teary and desperate and pained and

“drew, drew,” he’s panting, and andrew can’t fucking breathe, “i don’, don’ wan’ surg’ry”

“neil, neil i need you to calm down okay, we need to have the doctors check you out so they know the best way to help you” 

there are tears rolling down neil’s eyes

he never takes his gaze away from andrew

“don’– don’ let them, drew– don’ let them do this”

andrew’s chest is caving in on itself

he wraps his hand tighter around neil’s, and there’s a burning behind his eyes

his lungs are burning

neil has burnt

“it’s for your own good,” he says weakly around the knot in his throat

neil lets out a painful sob, squeezing his eyes closed as tears keep spilling down the sides of his cheeks

andrew wants to wake up from this nightmare, he can’t fucking do this 

he needs this to be a nightmare

he wants to wake up