#but i couldn't just NOT inform on the children

[the-froschamethyst4]

Ex’s and Oh’s

𖤐Paring: Ex Husband! Ghost x Ex Wife! F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐AN: Sorry, it has taken me so long to post this, I've been busy and struggling with writers block for a while, it was hard to think of a way to start this story and also trying to not make it boring as well. Anyways, I hope you all will enjoy the fic version of headcanon

𖤐Based On: ex-husband-simon

𖤐Warnings: fluff, smut, language, ex's to lovers, children, kissing/making out, more use of Simon, abusive relationship,

𖤐Summary: Divorce is hard, and Simon didn't know it at all, he loved his ex-wife and did everything he could to be there for his kids

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Simon waits in the driveway for his kids, Silas the oldest child and Luna his youngest. He remembers this house his first house he's ever bought with his now ex-wife Y/n.

Y/n had given Simon divorce papers because she was always worried about Simon when he was away on deployment. When she was pregnant with Luna, she couldn't handle the stress.

He watches the front door open and his kids come rushing out, Luna hugging Simon's legs and Silas hiked his bags into the back seat of his fathers truck.

"Come on, kids," Simon says, he turns and sees Y/n in the doorway being hold by her new boyfriend, Duncan. Simon couldn't stand him.

Duncan just leeched off of Y/n. Her money, home, food, he didn't pay bills, he was basically a roommate. Y/n tried to get Duncan many jobs but he never lasted then 4 days.

That was all information from Silas and Luna.

Simon looks at his kids helping Luna into her car seat.

"Daddy, can we go to the Zoo?" Luna asked.

"Maybe next weekend," Simon tells her.

"But I wanna go today."

"Not today baby."

"Why?"

"Because...it's close for cleaning."

"The Zoo isn't closed," Silas jumps in.

"Yes it is," Simon says, looking at his son to be quite. At the moment Simon didn't have anything plan with his kids, he just wanted to relax with his children and help them with homework if they needed it.

"Daddy?" Luna looks up at him.

"Not today," he says again. He shuts the door.

"I'm sorry for the last minute pick up," Y/n walks to her ex-husband.

"It's okay.

Y/n had a meeting and she didn't trust...Duncan. Sure they're dating and all, but she trusts Simon a lot more than Duncan.

"I can't believe you asked him to do it...I'm surprised he even agreed," Duncan says, watching Simon pull out of the driveway. Duncan acts like Simon is a dead-beat father when he's not, Simon works and barely even gets to see his kids.

And Duncan doesn't even help out with the kids, the week ago, Silas needed to be picked up from football (Soccer) and Duncan "forgot" and Luna was home but locked out of the house and didn't know if anyone was home or not.

"What the hell do you mean? Simon is a good father, this isn't his first time picking up his children," Y/n says.

"But like...I'm surprised really," he chuckles.

"Duncan, he's not a dead-beat father," Y/n says.

"Sure, he is, sees his kids 40 days out of the year."

"He...works Duncan, unlike you," she says. "I need to get going."

"Can't believe you married that guy too, seems like an asshole."

"He never was!" Y/n stood up for her ex-husband but why? She's the one who gave him the divorce papers, why is she standing up for him? Because she still loves him.

Duncan was a distraction for Y/n, she still loved Simon, but couldn't bring herself to tell him that, she thought if she had a boyfriend maybe her mind will love him instead but it wasn't, she still loved Simon, and she'll defend him even if he doesn't want her to, she'll still do it for him.

Duncan also doesn't know he's a 'distraction' he thought Y/n did like him.

----------

Simon looks at his son and daughter in the rearview mirror they were eating their chicken nuggets or small cheese burger. They were hungry since Simon had picked them up around lunch time.

"How's everything?" Simon asked them.

"Good." Luna says.

"Amazing," Silas says.

"Good," Simon says as he starts to drive to his apartment complex.

Simon parked in his usual parking spot and he helps his kids out of the back seats of his truck. They head to the elevators and hit the 5th floor button going up.

Luna played with the toy she just got and Silas played with his. Once the door opened Luna headed to the apartment door and Silas walked with Simon holding his bag as Simon carried his daughters bag.

Simon opens the door and his kids rushed in going to their rooms grabbing more toys and dragging them to the living room that Simon cleaned just for them to mess it up again.

Simon smiles at his kids and jumps in to play with them, he jumps from playing Monster Trucks and Wrestling to Princesses and Pet Shops.

He likes to play with his kids, enjoying how they play and missed all times him and Silas use to play with each other, before Luna was born, he didn't play with her as much because of the divorce.

He lays on his back and Luna sits on his stomach, she pats his toned chest and was using his chest as a mountain for her Barbies to play mountain climber, he knew he had a big chest but he didn't think it was that big.

"Daddy, stop breathing it's messing with my Barbies."

"Baby, I can't just stop breathing," he chuckles which now causes his chest to bounce.

"Daddy," she groans.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop laughing, but I can't stop breathing," he smiles.

"Dad," he looks at his son, but he was looking at him upside down.

"Yes, buddy?"

"I don't like mama's new boyfriend," Silas says.

"You don't?"

"Yeah," Luna now jumps in. "He yells at us sometimes, even for nothing."

"Yelling at you? Are you sure it's just because you two might have...I don't know actually done something wrong?"

"Daddy, are you taking his side?"

"No, no, but-"

"No reason, dad," Silas says.

Simon sits up now holding his daughter so she doesn't fall and she slides down on his lap.

"I understand," he says, letting go of his daughter as she goes back to her Barbie's dreamhouse.

----------

9:00PM

His children had gone to bed now, and Simon decided to do something, something he's never done because it was never his business.

Duncan Matthews Age: 31 Height: 5'11 Job: Unemployed Criminal Background: DUI, 1st degree Stalking, Demotic Violence

"Goddammit Y/n...you're smarter than this," Simon groans.

Simon copies the link and pulls up his email, he was going to send it to Y/n. If she was unaware, which she's not, she wouldn't keep this guy around.

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

Y/n was working late, she needed to get some files done and then she sees a notification pop up, it was from an anonymous email account.

She clicks it and then reading upon the email.

You're smarter than this with the screenshot of Duncan's police report attached to it.

She felt like she knew it was from. But she goes ahead and reads it anyways and then reading his charges.

*Ping*

Did you also know he yells at the children for no reason?

*Simon...what are you doing?* She thinks to herself.

Y/n then thinks of it, when she first brought Duncan home he was very rude to her children, but she brushed it off because sometimes her kids could be a little frustrating to deal with but she still loves them.

Duncan has also claimed that he didn't like kids and even though he knew about Y/n having kids still proceeded to be with her. Silas has brought up the fact that Duncan yelled at him and Luna a few times but Y/n thought was because they were doing something Duncan had told them many times to stop, so she brushed off again.

She now knows...she needs to listen to children more.

-----------

A Few Hours Later

Y/n was heading home now, she looks at her home from inside her car watching as the only light was on was the living room light, Duncan must've still been up.

She gets out of her car and locking it up and heading inside, she was right, he was still up, playing video games and yelling while he played them.

He was so annoying.

"Duncan, can you turn that off? It's almost midnight, and I have to go to bed to be able to get ready for work tomorrow," she says. She doesn't want to be up all night because of her dumb boyfriend always yelling at the games he play.

"Later, I'm not done-"

"Now, please," she cuts him off.

"Seriously? ALL I DO FOR YOU AND THIS IS HOW I AM TREATED!?"

"DO WHAT!? YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A JOB, I PAY FOR EVERYTHING! WHAT DO YOU MEAN EVERYTHING YOU'VE DONE FOR ME!? YOU DON'T DO SHIT, BUT SIT HERE AND PLAY YOUR STUPID VIDEO GAMES AND I'M FINDING OUT YOU YELL AT MY CHILDREN!!! WHAT TYPE OF PERSON ARE YOU!?" She yells back.

*Smack*

A sharp pain stung on Y/n's right cheek, she holds her cheek, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

He just smacked her.

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

A Few Days Later

Simon held his daughter and set her in her car seat. Silas buckled himself up and was ready to go back to his mothers house.

As Simon pulled into the driveway helping his kids out of the truck, the front door opened and he turns with a smile on his face ready to tell her how much fun his children had at his apartment, but he sees her face.

She looked upset, and then he sees a bruise over her left eye and a red mark on her cheek.

"Y/n?"

"Thanks for bring my kids back safely," she says, giving him a smile.

"Hey...are you okay?"

"Don't worry about me," she says.

"Hey," Simon then cups her face. She doesn't move, it was like she misses his touch and his worried face. "What...the hell happened?" He asks.

"He-"

"Oh finally you brought the kids back, how was it, rug rats?" Duncan asks coming outside and Y/n moves her face from Simon's hands.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!?" Simon grabs Duncan and Y/n ushers her children inside to not witness whatever Simon is going to do to Duncan.

Simon grabs Duncan's shirt throwing him to the ground, Duncan let's out a groan when his back hits the concrete.

"SIMON!" He stops whatever he's about to do, and starts pushing Duncan down the concrete stairs.

"Get the fuck away from my family!" He yells and Duncan starts to scramble to his feet and run away from the house. Simon was breathing heavily to stop himself from chasing after Duncan.

Simon turns to Y/n and her children hiding behind their mom, they've never, never, ever seen Simon like this before, it was almost like they didn't even know him.

"Are you okay?" Simon asks, Y/n.

"Simon-"

"I know...I don't need to fight your battles for you...but when I saw you standing there with bruises on your body, I just lost control because I knew he was the one who didn't, you don't just get those from nothing," he says.

"You-I could've called the police!"

"Tell him to collect his things, I'll be here when he does show up. I don't want him near my children or you ever again."

"You're not my dad-"

"So, you want him to keep doing what he is doing?"

"No."

"Then call him and tell him to collect his shit, and I'll be here to make sure no funny business happens, do you understand?"

"Fine."

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

It was a week later now, Simon did what he said he'll do and he stayed in the house as Duncan and few of his friends gathered his shit and left, it was easy, a little too easy.

"Don't ever fucking come back, do not ask her for forgiveness, now fuck off, all of you," Simon says, slamming the door in their faces and he watched as they left the driveway.

"That was too easy, dad," Silas says as he stood next to Simon.

"I know..." Simon bends down to his son. "I want you to keep an eye on your sister and mother, anything happens, you call me or the police do you understand?"

"Yes, dad."

"I don't need protection," Y/n says.

"You do, if I'm not around," Simon says.

"Mommy, daddy, can we go to the park? It's nice out and I want to play outside," Luna says from the living room.

"Sure, come on, go get shoes on," Simon says. Y/n looks at Simon in a 'are you serious?' type of look, she wanted Simon gone, she wanted to spend her day with her children since Duncan was now gone for good.

"What?" Simon teases.

"Mama, are you mad at dad?" Silas asked, looking up at Y/n.

"No, no, I just...I just wanted to spend time with you guys."

"You can spend time with us, with daddy!" Luna yells coming down the stairs.

Y/n looks at Simon then down at her kids. Maybe, just maybe she'll let this slide once, she's only doing this for her children.

----------

Luna was going down the slide and Silas was at the bottom of the slides arms wide open catching his younger sister from falling onto the dirty mulch.

"I'm sorry, he did those things to you-"

"Could we not bring him up, please. I'm only here for my children, I'm not here...to be friends with you, Simon."

"I don't understand what I did for you to hate me?"

"I don't hate you Simon."

"Seems like it," he rests his chin on his palm.

"I'm just...annoyed...I'm not a Princess that needs saving every time I get into trouble, I can handle myself. It seems like every time you're over here, I'm somehow in trouble and you come to my rescue," she says.

"I know you're not a Princess, Y/n...and I don't mean to come to your rescue every time, but I can't just sit back and watch someone hurt you for no reason," he tells her.

"Mama! Luna is picking weeds again!"

"DANDILIONS AREN'T WEEDS!!" Luna yells at her brother while giving the brightly yellow flowers to Y/n.

"Thank you, baby," she kisses Luna's temple as her kids went back to play.

"I'm glad you let me come," Simon says.

"Again...I only did it for my kids."

"I know."

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

A month later now. Simon was waiting for his kids, Luna or Silas haven't said anything about Duncan in a while, or anything about Y/n since the park.

Simon sees his kids rushing out and Luna pulled on Simon's hand.

"What, Luna?"

"Mama, wants to see you," she says.

"Okay, okay, get in the truck and I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay," she says as his kids get inside the truck he goes into the house.

"Y/n?" He calls out. "Y/n?" Once more.

"Upstairs," he goes upstairs and sees at the end of the hallway, her bedroom door open, he walks to the door, peeking through seeing her in a towel and she seemed like she was getting ready for work.

"Y-You wanted me?" He asks. Y/n turns and let's him in.

"Yeah, can you tell me which shirt would go great with my skirt?" She holds up a red button up and and black on, her skirt was just a plain black pencil skirt, black goes with anything, but why is she asking him? She already knows what will go good with the skirt.

"I think they both will look good with it-but why are you asking me?"

"Because...your opinion is a bit valid," she says, dropping the shirts.

"My opinion is valid?"

"Forget it," she says, she turns her back and Simon smiles, she was asking for his opinion.

Simon walks to her, his hands gently caressing her waist. She doesn't stop him, she misses his touch. It was always gentle and soft, he wasn't demanding for her attention or anything, he just wanted to know if his touch still had an effect on her, and it did.

He kisses her neck, earning a soft moan from her lips, her hand goes to his cheek to let him keep going. Y/n then leans back into his touch, his hands going to her towel and letting it lose and fall to the ground.

She turns and looks at Simon, his eyes roam all over her body, from her breasts and her perky nipples to her thighs that were squeezing together. She didn't cover herself up like she was embarrassed that he was staring at her bare body. For fuck's sake, Simon has seen her naked body before.

Simon picks her up and putting her on the bed, moving her clothes out of the way, he picks up her thighs and moving them against her chest, he leans down and kisses her lips.

His tongue along with hers dancing around, and soon her was messing the belt of his pants. He looks into her eyes almost like he was asking for permission. She slightly nods her head, allowing him to push himself into her, earning a soft moan from her lips.

He slowly rocks his hips back and forth watching her head go back against the mattress of her bed, her arms wrapped around his neck pulling him closer to her chest and his kissed both sides of her breasts and then started to suckle on her left nipple while his hand kneads her right breast.

Simon starts picking up the pace her moans were loud now and with every thrust, her moans would go at a higher pitch. She missed this feeling of Simon being inside her. Duncan could never do what Simon does.

Simon looks down at her stomach seeing him just barely bulging from her lower stomach. He smirks and holds her face to let her look at him as he goes a bit harder now. Her nails dug into his arm from the pleasure.

"S-Simon." She moans.

"I know, baby, I know, you can come," he tells her, with a few more thrusts she ends up coming on his dick. He smiles and pulls out watching both of their cum mix together.

He goes down and starts cleaning her up, he then remembers.

"The kids! I need to get going," he says. "I love you, and I'll see you later, sorry for this all of a sudden."

Y/n smiles, he's so flustered, he's never been like that before, she rolls on her side to watch him leave, she gets up and starts cleaning herself up and starts to get ready for work.

She missed him, she truly did. She just hides it.

[three-headed-monster]

[potatoesandsunshine]

they are truly so bad at war in the clone wars like. where’s the lying. almost every single one of their problems could be solved with just a little more lying and one person willing to kill

[b-00-biez]

Would you be able to write if {Michael, Brahms, and Thomas} found out their s/o had a breeding kink.

Breeding kink

With Michael, Brahms, Thomas

Michael

He honestly doesn't know what to do with this information but he will save it for later.

One night you were particularly stubborn and the easiest way for Michael to coax you into doing what he wants is to abuse your poor little entrance. You know he hasn't touched you for weeks and him just teasing you with just his tip probing at the entrance that awaits his full length, fluttering and welcoming him with open arms but he doesn't give in.

"M-michael please.. " you tried to beg for him to just fuck you, insert his full length into you despite him not wearing a condom right now. "Please Michael I'll do whatever the fuck you ask me just fuck me outta my misery.. " you said frustrated already, you know despite his mask, he's smirking underneath. Without a warning, he shoved his whole cock inside making you yelp and ease up around his length. He hooked your legs onto his shoulders and started fucking. His balls slapping your ass and you can hear it making lewd noises. On how rough he was being you can't help but feel your orgasm coming. You grasp whatever words you have left in your cock drunk brain and said "cum in me! Get me fucking pregnant!! " you screamed. Now, he's curious. You want his seed? You want your tummy full of his babies, your breasts swollen with milk? He's not too sure about this but hell you were such a good girl for him right now looking all needy and disheveled, maybe just this once he will fuck you full of his seed.

Brahms

The fact that he was spying on you watching porn and your fingers melting into your very Nectar. He has to know what you were watching so he can replace those damn fingers with his cock. So while you were asleep he swiped your phone and in the safety of his walls he played the video he saw.

He couldn't take off his eyes on that pussy being abused and edged by this guy's long shaft. The video was about to end until the guy pulled out a mix of their cum oozing out of her cunt onto the bed as she shivered from all the orgasm she had. You were watching this while your fingers were desperately trying to make you cum like the needy slut that you are? He didn't want you to suffer when all you needed was his cock and his buckets of cum in you.

After he persuaded you to do it with him he's already in you with no foreplay whatsoever rubbing your clit so roughly while snapping his hips with yours. "Ugh.. All mine Mine!! " he said going faster just burying you on the bed, ass up. He slapped your ass until it was red making you yelp while you felt his cock ramming itself in and out. You had no energy to tell him to slow down but gosh it felt so good when he's this rough! "Get pregnant Get pregnant Get pregnant!! " he chanted while rearranging your insides. Gosh how many orgasms have you had and how many loads does he need to fill you with until he's satisfied?

Thomas

He couldn't help but imagine how your legs wraps around his waist pulling him closer to you while he ruts your very hole. He couldn't help but notice how unresponsive you were after 2-3 rounds and he just couldn't get his mind off on how his meaty cock was a bit visible on your cute tummy while he fucked you up.

He didn't understand what a breeding kink was until you blurted out that he should cum inside you that day.

In the morning while you and his family were having breakfast, Luda Mae asked if you two were gonna have children soon since you couldn't even be separated from Thomas. You choked on your water then looked at Thomas who was already blushing but nodded that he indeed plans to have children with you sooner or later but until you get married to him.

One particular night after that you couldn't take it anymore. He kept cumming outside and on you! He was so careful not to get you pregnant until marriage. "T-thomas please.. Just cum in me! Please I can't wait till marriage I'm already yours!! " you blurted out. He stopped for a moment but then picked up the pace as he rutted into you fucking your g-spot over and over again as he groans in agreement. Mixing your juices and his pre-cum so deliciously and night after night he kept fucking you full of his loads and every time after that you felt satisfied even after you conclude that you were indeed pregnant now.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fic Idea: The Contact, the Butler and the Sly Time Lord

Martha accidentally engaged Bruce to a higher being when he was two.

It sounds terrible, but she hadn't thought that the man wearing the Time ghost costume at her husband's Halloween Gala wasn't wearing a costume and was actually the physical embodiment of Time.

She just thought he took Halloween very seriously.

Mr. Clockwork was charming and didn't care that she had married from the lower level of first class. Her parents were rich, of course, but they weren't old money, and they certainly didn't have a lot of power to speak of.

Because of that, the elites of Gotham thought she wasn't good enough to be in a family such as the Waynes. It was so lovely not to be dragged into conversations that were thinly concealed insults.

Everyone else at the Gala thought Martha had no right to be there with them. Why was she just a few zeros off from being middle class, and wasn't it just so sad that Thomas would stain his family with her?

Secertly, Martha prayed Bruce would do something wild, like marry a girl from Crime Alley or even adopt kids in lower classes to make them all choke on their pearls.

Her son would be one of the most powerful men in a few years, and she couldn't wait to see what kind of hell he would unleash upon them. She would never push, of course, but it would be a nice fantasy to have every time she had to face passive-aggressive comments from ladies told by their fathers they would be a far better Mrs. Wyane.

" Why, hello there. Aren't you the cutest little thing?" Mr. Clockwork coos, smiling down at Bruce. He clung to his mother's skirt, his matching cowboy costume a miniature version of what she was wearing.

The boy had wandered over in the middle of their conversation once he was bored of coloring at his table. Martha couldn't blame her poor baby. There really wasn't much to do for those his age here.

Thomas had stated that children were usually not brought along due to being loud and distracting.

Martha wouldn't hear any of it, insisting her son would be going with them at the party or there would be no party. The majority of the elites believed children should be seen, not heard, and that boiled her blood something fierce.

Thomas had thankfully known when to pick his battles, so he allowed his wife to drag him to a costume store for a family costume to wear. He currently chatting with a group of investors in all his cowboy glory somewhere on the other side of the gala.

"Say thank you, Bruce," She tells her boy, but he only hides his face more, causing the two adults to chuckle. "Do you have kids, Mr.Clockwork?"

"Yes. Two daughters and a son" The man chuckles "All three are a handleful but I love them dearly."

"Oh, how wonderful. Bruce is my only son, but I want to give him siblings," she tells him warmly. She can picture Bruce chasing after his younger siblings dressed up as the Grey Ghost he loves.

She knows Thomas was worried about their chances of having a second child. He was informed not too long ago that he may suffer from secondary infertility. She didn't mind. If they couldn't have a child of their own by blood they could easily adopt.

Martha worked long and hard to provide good orphanages to the city. Maybe one day, a child from there could be her own. She'll have to speak to her orphanage managers- those in charge of the kids- to see if they could help her find one.

They have successfully been getting kids into good homes (At least she thought the number of children constantly changed, and the kids were never seen again, meaning the families that adopted them loved them enough to never return!)

Mr. Clockwork hums "how about giving him a spouse instead? My girls or boy could be a good partner"

Laughing, she assumes he meant her work on bettering the lives of the gay community- in honor of her brother who passed during the AIDs epidemic. "I'm sure Bruce would be happy to hear Mommy found him a husband."

"Is that a yes?" Clockwork eyes' flashed with an emotion that was gone too quick for her to identify.

"Yes, of course. If that is what they both want, I wouldn't mind their marriage at all."

Mr. Clockworks red eyes - contacts? A medical condition?- gleam, and his voice takes on a strange rhythm. "Then so shall it be, my son Danny Fenton shall be married to Bruce Wayne per their Blood Mother and Core Father deal."

Huh. Maybe Mr. Clockwork is a nutcase. Suddenly, she thinks back to her father, who would often tell her that she lived in a delusion because he did not want her to see the horror that Gotham truly is.

Even when you think you're doing good, Gotham has a way of making your work into nightmares.

Was Mr. Clockwork one of those people he warned her about?

Thankfully, he leaves not long after that. He claims he must return to work before his co-workers notice him gone. She doesn't see him for the rest of the night and half wonders if she had been speaking to one of the wait staff they hired as extra help.

Not that she minded, but it made her think his name might not even be Clockwork.

She tells Thomas the story hours after Bruce is put to bed with a candy bucket and the last guests have all slipped home. Thomas is exhausted, having been playing host longer than her because Martha had left around eight to take Bruce trick and treating. Then she got home and put him down for his bedtime.

She got back to the party around eleven but it was a much-needed break from all the hostility that Thomas had been forced to face alone.

"WHAT!?" Thomas booms when she finishes the story. They had just crawled into bed, and Thomas had been rolling to his side for sleep before her words flung him back. "Clockwork!? You're sure you spoke to Clockwork!?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"What did he look like?"

"Um well he was in costume, but red eyes, blue skin, and he was wearing purple robes." She watches as the blood drains from her husband's face. "What is it darling? Who was he?"

"Oh, this isn't good....Alfred! Alfred!" Thomas frantically calls as if the devil had appeared in their bedroom.

Their servant and sometimes lover comes racing into the room, carrying a loaded shotgun. Ever since Thomas had met him overseas when he hired the British man as a personal bodyguard, he fell hard and fast for Alfred but he still deeply loved Martha.

He had sent Martha a letter detailing his feelings for his guard, and only after she had given him permission did he pursue the butler. Alfred had insisted on meeting Thomas' wife to prove that she was okay with him having a lover, so he had followed Wayne back home.

Then he simply never left.

Maybe because he was the best butler Wayne ever had, with his regal training and service in her royal highness' army, but she thinks that her own developed feelings for Alfred convince him to remain.

Alfred insisted that he was only a servant and thus could not be added to their marriage besides a bed partner occasionally. Still, Martha hoped one day they could convince him otherwise.

Bruce already saw him as a second father.

He looks at the pair, dressed in their nightwear in a rather enticing position (Thomas had grabbed Martha by her shoulder, to look into her eyes but that left them rather entangled on the bed) with no visible threat, and raises one brow.

Before he can say anything Thomas is all but rolling out of bed in a frantic leap. He tangles up in the blankets, falling gracelessly over the edge in failing limbs "Martha made a deal with Clockwork!"

At once, Alfred's handsome face drains of blood. "Oh dear, Martha darling, you made a grave mistake."

She can only blink at the men in confusion. "Who is Clockwork?"

"He has many names, but I knew him as Merlin," Alfred informed her evenly. He took her hand in his, the tremble in his fingers revealing his unease. " He had shown interest in Master Thomas before and was the one I protected him from. I barely fought him off and only due to outsmarting him. I would not be able to do it again a second time."

What?

"He is also known as a Fae or incubus in some circles. The kind that steals you away for fun." Thomas babbled from where he was pacing next to the bed, eyes franticly glancing about as if the bogggie man was about to leap out at him from the shadows.

For a moment, Martha wondered why her husband, a man of science and medicine who had never been superstitious, believed this Clockwork was some...some creature of myths.

"Martha, love, what did he ask of you?" Alfred questioned, bringing her hand to his lips as though kissing them would confirm she was safe before him.

"He asked for Bruce to marry his son."

"Oh, gods!" Thomas fretted, speeding up, his long strides becoming far more frantic. "Please say you didn't say yes."

"I-thought it was a joke, I didn't see anything wrong with it, I- said yes."

Alfred closed his eyes, looking like a man who had just been informed his death sentence had been signed by the Queen. "Then all we can do now is pray."

Years later, as Alfred is dusting the portrait of his deceased loves. He allowed his hand to trace the cover of Martha's painted smile and Thomas' strong jaw, mind filled with stolen kisses and sweet nothings that were ripped away that fateful night.

He is still struck by their loss. Every now and then, the knowledge of their death creeps in during his most mundane activities. It's like a kick to the chest every time.

Oh, how he misses them.

Ding Dong

The front doorbell jolts him out of his memories so violently it takes the aged Butler a moment or two to get a hold of his senses. He puts down the duster, climbs down the latter, and quickly makes his way to the door.

Stopping to fix his suit coat, he throws it open with a prepared smile. He expects extra help from the catering company Master Bruce hired for Wayne's annual Halloween Gala.

He was not expecting the two men, one looking nervous around Master Bruce's age and the other sly. His age is hard to gauge, but it may be due to time not affecting him as it did mortals.

Alfred's blood freezes at the sight of those cunning red eyes and smirk. "Merlin."

"Alfred Pennyworth." The demon chuckles. "I prefer Clockwork, as you know, but it's good to see you remember me. Most humans are prone to forgetting in their limited age."

"What are you doing here?"

"Why I came to fulfill the deal between Martha Wayne nee Kane and I"

"Martha is dead. Your contact is void."

Clockwork chuckles again, the sound as deadly as poison. "The contact lives as long as all those involved in it live. You know this."

Alfred presses the panic button on his wristwatch, knowing it sends a message to everyone in the manor to evacuate immediately. He will not live through this battle, but hopefully, it will give Master Bruce time to escape. "You will not lay a hand on Master Bruce."

"Come now, Alfred. We are to be in-laws. Our sons are joining in holy matrimony. Why the hostility-"

"Excuse me what?" The other man-demon? Ghost? Higher-being? cuts in, looking at Clockwork with brows knitted into a frown. "What did you mean holy matrimony?"

"Danny, you're getting married," Clockwork says with a cheerful wave.

"The hell I am!" The man barks, flushing red with anger. Alfred can hardly believe he just yelled at the monster. "I am not marrying some random guy!"

"It is the way things must go for the good of mankind-"

"Oh, go suck on a lemon! We both know that whole "this is fate" is bull!"

"You are embarrassing me in front of our new in-laws, younn man" Clockwork actually waves a finger at the fully grown human. "This is my one chance to marry you off to a good man. We both know that you can't attract a mate on your own."

"What!? Yes, I can! I've had girlfriends and boyfriends before!"

"And yet, no spouse! No wedding! Not even a ring!"

"Moby Dick, I knew this bonding fishing trip was a lie! You can't make me get married because of some contact you made when I was three!"

"It's not permanent! Martha Wayne said If that is what they both want, I wouldn't mind their marriage at all. This means you both must want to be together after one year of marriage. See if you like it, and if you don't, I can always find you a new husband."

"This isn't returning a jacket to a store! I can't just see if I like being married Clockwork!" The man hissed running a hand through his hair. "We're going home. I'm so sorry for bothering you today Mr. Alfred."

Alfred blinks at the young man's sheepish smile, wondering if ti's a trick. "No bother at all."

"Danny, if you leave without marriage, Bruce Wayne will die in an hour due to breaking our contract," Clockwork says, crossing his arms. "Honestly, your sisters were far more mature regarding their marriages."

Danny punches him in the face with a glowing hand. The higher being falls like a sack of bricks.

"Right, I'm going to drop this one off at a nursing home, and then I'll return to marry Bruce. Only so the contact doesn't kill him, and I swear I'll only visit every once in a while until our year is up." Throwing- Merlin, holy shit- over his shoulder as if though he weighed nothing, Danny waves at Alfred and scurries away, vanishing into a green portal.

Alfred is left standing at the doorway, utterly flabbergasted. Distantly, he wonders if the hollowing wind is actually Martha laughing herself silly in the afterlife.

Carefully, he reaches up for his com, switching it on to the sound of his family's frantic bickering. They were all worried about him since he sent the alarm and were fighting about following policy or saving him.

"Master Bruce," He says faintly silencing the coms "Please come to have your suit fitted as soon as you can."

"What for?" His son asks, likely looking for a coded message, but Alfred doesn't have the mental capacity to make one.

"Your wedding, sir. It's tonight, courtesy of your mother."

The coms explode into chaos.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

the "what are you even talking about, like what do you mean when you say this" overlap imo between people talking about who's Bad At """conflict""" & talking about who's Bad At """"""social skills"""""" like. those supposed Social Skills being about carbonized Rituals that serve to indicate you're not a threat to each other, b/c the only reason to truly deviate from "never behaving in a way someone doesn't expect or feel they immediately understand / sympathize with" is b/c you're using more spontaneous communication to Fight, with an eventual winner/loser, and talking is just a power struggle and/or power play to assert your preestablished higher status, i.e. already being thee A Winner here

like this exhausting dynamic b/w these two bros just like talking about what they got out of [xyz] experience and how perhaps especially when you're supposed to be [the concept of Men] things are elevated re: the proximity to / frequency of fighting each other and always assessing each other's Threat Level, and these two random guys just have this tepid discussion and any time someone goes "and i also alternately/additionally thought/felt [xyz]" the other one does the bizarre like, semi exasperated? "no yeah Of Course" as though like oh we are so on the same page you didn't even have to say that and actually you're kind of an asshole for even starting to say it before i immediately cut in as soon as i realized i could agree at all to tell you to shove off with voicing it, how dare you even theoretically think i don't think exactly what you're thinking now shut up….again: exhausting

like Communication, the more freeform or extensive, is Bad, b/c you're potentially in Conflict, and conflict is fighting & being threats to each other & someone potentially needing to be crushed b/c how else do you resolve a Conflict Fight? versus like, can not the concept of A Conflict be more distilled to something so matter of fact that nobody even needs to Feel any ways about it. like the "theoretical" conflicts that would just be like. something can't happen as something hypothetically intended it to. like a scheduling conflict being, in fact, a conflict, without anyone needing to have been in the wrong for having an appointment on thursday afternoon, and without anyone needing to Concede The Point of scheduling anything on a thursday afternoon b/c they are the one who Lost w/e negotiation about how to work around this. can not "i was operating on one understanding of what's going on for you / what you're trying to do and why, and now what's happening isn't aligning with that idea that i had about how things are" be a conflict that can be resolved by perhaps talking to that person. versus assuming you must be correct b/c you're normal and so something's wrong with them and/or they're messing with you on purpose b/c they're an asshole now, and even if you realize you were wrong about something way down the line you can just be like "well sorreeee how was eye supposed to know [xyz] and i Thought i was being Nice b/c i Thought you were [xyz] so i was in the right and now you're coming after me by being like 'actually by doing that maybe you hurt or even simply inconvenienced me' like so i'm evil now?? could you not have politely let me keep stepping on your toes forever b/c i assumed something was true? and if you did ummm How Could You Be So Bad At Conflict as to know ppl respond [like this] and so instead politely let me keep stepping on your toes?????? i also resent all this"

versus if you see the conflict of "i seem to have misunderstood you / you misunderstand me" as Not Necessarily Threatening then you can comfortably just actually communicate about it. that autistic people who are used to thinking of themselves through the lens of [how others may interpret any/everything about them], having to be more aware of themself as An Other than A Self, won't assume everyone's reading everyone else's mind at all, or even think of that as the ideal approach, and will like, readily give & seek information from others to actually try to be on the same page and have this Constructive experience where you've worked together to navigate your interaction as two different people who would not somehow magically be in alignment, unless you consider the "alignment" to be the power differences that must exist and the priority in Socializing, thus what makes for "good" "social skills," is never threatening them, or god forbid Disrespecting them by Ignoring them: say, how autistic people will have less status/[the social capital] b/c of being autistic, yet the assholes will be Talking (the medium of a fight) and Asking anything of others like participation in an interaction (fighting) and btw by thinking they're Allowed to talk all freestyle rather than in the hollow scripts of "i'm amicable i'm not threatening you. directly. this may be passive aggressive" and by treating me as a mere equal they're trying to drag me down to their level and/or elevate themself to mine, and b/c this is a disruption of the power hierarchy that must exist, we have a problem, and they started it, and they're an asshole

(also: i & many people Do also consciously disrespect & ignore the [socializing = power struggles] concept & its goings on lol. and there's also ofc no real "normal" Universal social style across all cultures and groups and individuals and Misinterpretation ft. bad faith reactions happens on endless fronts. but nt people will pretend there are Rules that everyone has had to be Trained on and if you disobey you'll never deserve to be treated as a person. all "and people only smile when they're happy. unless, did i miss a memo? that frowns means happy now???" etc etc like you see it's all passive aggression or the tools of passive aggressiveness but to "help" someone without threatening them but you Can be pissed if they misunderstand, or at least know you were in the right.)

the way it's Normal(tm) to never actually think of how you don't Know someone else's thoughts/feelings, to never presume they could operate differently and for reasons you can't just accurately infer with a guess re: why You'd do it, to not try to actively undergo a mutually cooperative interaction to better understand each other / be working with the same info, but oh it's autistic people who Are doing all this who never think about how other people are different from their weirdo asses. the "social skills" of assuming wrongly, getting mad at others for supposedly realities you just made up, responding to assuming xyz & being mad about it by punishing/excluding someone & possibly getting others in on it. whilest nd people with their Wrong social existences & approaches are always navigating communicating/socializing as something to do actively & consciously to connect with & understand other people and Don't necessarily think [wow this person doesn't seem to be behaving Amicably towards me?] is a) correct or b) proof they're an enemy to defeat, b/c that's how they're generally treated? the whole time you know communication can fail and you're navigating that w/active effort & constructive intent while people who operate on [if someone does something you don't expect / not according to the script: kill or be killed. or kill just b/c you can & that's the only way you can relate to yourself/others] are like wow what an asshole who i guess doesn't want to get along with anyone so let's see them in hell.

not to mention being shut out from even basics of communication b/c socializing is about respective power levels and you do need Authority to do things like "say whatever" or "have people care about your personal experience at any time" or "say anything at all, actually" like ppl discussing things like "i don't know that i can't Read Cues, vs that i just know they might mean any number of things" vs if someone's not looking at you while you talk it can't be b/c they're actually trying to listen better, it's b/c they're ignoring you / uninterested to pwn you, if they show they relate by saying "hey yeah that's like when i [xyz]" they're one upping to pwn you, if they smile they're happy people only smile when they're happy unless did i miss a memo that frowns means happy??? b/c if someone also makes any expression it Must have been caused by You and they're letting you know as much to pwn you.....or ppl talking about how they can never jump into a conversation b/c they just Can't Get The Timing Right the way other allistic ppl can walk right up and barge in and be absorbed into the convo, or even have a [one on one convo w/ the autistic person] quickly turn into [one on one w/the newcomer, Excluding the autistic person] and other people being like, is it about our "social skills" and "timing" or is about when you' have the authoriti're understood to have the superior social status, you Deserve to do things like cut in on a whim and be listened to, timing does not matter, Not ignoring / forgetting the inferior person does not matter. like, the issue isn't always just "i tried to jump in and it went a bit awkwardly," it can be standing there and talking and being completely ignored w/o much evident conscious effort, or even the least time on some pending [choice to ignore]. you can be hypothetically In the interaction, like, allowed in the group, w/o people noticing when you talk, b/c you don't warrant Listening/Processing, or at least, the least response to indicate that and thus validate that An Exchange is occurring, versus: shut up already b/c shut up always unless someone else wants you to one word answer a question and then possibly misunderstand you w/hostility, but if you Explain anything in unasked (as it always is) depth you're a) out of line, nobody told you to talk more hence the only reason you'd be justified to do so b) defensive, also out of line when you deserve others' judgment, and/or obviously a sign of knowing you're out of line and thus doing too much to avert your just punishment c) providing info b/c you think w/o info i might be Wrong b/c i'm Dumb & Bad. no You. d) all of the above and more

and if, perhaps because trying to talk live & in person means stuff like the above, and other behaviors/mannerisms being judged as weird so let's kill them b/c obv they're killing us by being so weird, and if you're trying to be "normal" that's diminishing your ability to actually communicate or like get through your day and requires hurting yourself for the benefit of others so they don't hurt you more (spoilers. the resonance w/experiences of other instances of "you're responsible for how other ppl, who are superior / have authority, treat you, and have to 'earn' their positive treatment or even neutrality b/c you do not Already inherently deserve it," i.e. interpersonal abuse) and still won't even fully or always work (see prior parenthetical) b/c even if one person pretends things b/w multiple parties can be unilateral, it is not (see: prior)....anyways and If all that means say, someone can communicate a) more effectively and b) with less real pain & depletion via Other Mediums, like emails / otherwise written, non real time correspondance, or god forbid something so Unreasonable as real time / in person that's still not talking, with correct Tone and Inflection and Body Language and Posture and Eye Contact and Handshake and Je Ne Sais Quoi and Cut Of Your Jib and All American Interests And Sensibilities and Etcccc, like what a tyrannical demand that could just never even be considered and i have the Right to eye contact and phone call and etc etc etc (you do not) Stop Hiding (you warrant avoidance if you think no one should be able to avoid you)

and parallel to nd people having the theory of mind and social/communication skills that don't understand all interactions as asserting or vying for power or indicating you're Not threatening someone in the realm of supposed social power, and thus do not operate with that premise, the victim blaming that is "obviously that treatment is bad and i would know it is bad and not tolerate it because it is bad. so people subjected to it have to be worse than me, and deserve it more" where it's also definitely not the fault of the people issuing the treatment, b/c how could they Really know it's bad if the other person is experiencing it without Stopping them, hence telling them It's Okay??? well sorrreeeeee how was i supposed to know that [xyz] was actually hurting you, it's your fault for not blowing up at me, which would've been deemed this uncalled for reaction if you had, and now i'm mad if you're Making me feel Bad b/c that's the discomfort that really matters????? fuck you for telling me, with this kind of response why didn't you tell me?? like, uh oh, same logic at work. and that when other people keep running into the realities that actually their good faith expressing of "actually this hurts me" or more spontaneous reactions to being hurt are just taken as justifications to treat Them as some aggressor / problem creator wronging the other, ofc they aren't likely to simply keep trying that when it's not serving the purpose it "should" or supposedly Would, b/c well if only this person did xyz then nothing bad could ever happen to anyone. and when people ofc Have to become accustomed to [other person or people who can & will treat them badly if they want to, or even just thoughtlessly, b/c they can, & don't choose to do the opposite, b/c even if they're aware they've hurt someone it only matters if they feel justified / they care more about keeping their relative status (it's being autistic, it's [the Authority of Superior Status is coming from inside the house: the concept that husband owns a wife, parents own children; familial abuse])] then it's like wowww they just put up with it, it's their fault then. god forbid that even if they extricate themself from one abusive situation, they're still vulnerable, other ppl take advantage of the vulnerability & they're now in another abusive situation and are used to navigating that indefinitely, vs how someone else might have the preexisting advantage of Not being used to that, not having the experiences to navigate it more indefinitely, finding it more extraordinary & thus having more confidence in their assessment of the situation, and not having the kind of vulnerability in the first place to a) have been in such situations prior b) be stuck in this one now, including perhaps being able to expect that their feelings will matter to others and others will support/help them on that basis, or that their feelings will even be regarded as real/existent. Being Autistic.

(also, yknow, other nd experiences. like adhd classics of "but if you cared / cared to try, you would simply [xyz]" and the like. this is about the crossovers, this is about the "it's the same thing. [who has the restricted autonomy? who has the power at the expense of others' autonomy?] extended universe")

and like the idea that abused people were just Bad at """Conflict.""" and that even if they're extricated from one abusive situation, they might have xyz behaviors / approaches that aren't Normal and that Those make them "worse" at "conflict" too. that nobody "normal" could be lacking in their "normal" approach to interacting with others, neurodivergent people and others who get to be, like, Others(tm) others, definitely don't have [behaviors / experiences related to repeated trauma??] pretty across the board, they're probably just doing more fucking up at being normal which is why they don't get to be considered normal in the first place, ofc. like, what tf is Normal Joe doing to question if they're perhaps not now and have not always been and may not always be the Perfect Interactor. much less to actively try to navigate that, and assume there'll be more to learn b/c there's all these other people who are all different and all always changing. and to perhaps Try to be safe to interact with beyond "well i Mean well" "well a normal person wouldn't regard anything i did as Tryinnng to hurt someone" "well is it my fault i just Assumed you were simply as normal as me? aka the nice thing to do? the thing you should be trying to do?? way to be a weirdo, like having experienced traumatic harm and now that's like, a part of your life and you're not actually Wrong about it or Lied To that that's possible b/c it clearly is and you can't be aware of the precarity re: that happening again b/c welll it's not normal for it to happen surely, i'd Know if it was, you can't recognize your vulnerability, you're kind of an asshole for making that experience anyone else's problem, it's not My fault, keep it to yourself and just get over it asap" like the real problem is if someone might have to so much as consider consciously doing something differently b/c someone else is different than they thought and also nobody's Above considering others and how they're affected by your actions. liiike so long as i didn't mean to, or so long as we don't really care about how they're doing b/c they Are less of a person with a wronger existence that means they bring it upon themself and there's a Narrative about how actually my Superiority is a noble burden that is only trying to punish them towards being as superior as me. and/orrrr i don't even have to think about it & thus have any narrative b/c it's so streamlined / obfuscated as there being any deliberate interference that this is all just Normal, right. people are out of line suggesting [xyz] is ableist or something b/c ughhh it's not about any principle it's about some emotional quota like, okay i've begrudgingly assessed Some things as sympathetic/reasonable to not do, & that's enough, & you can only ask so much of me vs this being a constant often conscious lifelong matter to deal with like it is for people who could be hurt by it?? the contempt is effortless and normal and you have to be trying to be evil & feel evil about it for anything to count. if other people say they're affected a) who cares b) they're probably being too sensitive. another way they're worse. i'm not entitled here c) are they even frowning to prove they're sad? well they're either too sensitive Or they're manipulatively exaggerating / faking it anyways. the convenient fact that nobody can provide external ""proof"" of their thoughts or feelings or intentions, which means i'm always justified if know i think i am, which, let me check, yep: i know i think i do, and it means that i can assume other people are shit inside and hurting them doesn't do anything Real and they deserve it anyways

anyways merely being Normal Mode and Not Thinking You've Been Malicious Or, Sometimes More Importantly, Out Of Line Re: Your Justified Authority is maybe not a basis of successful interactions. what if you try thinking of yourself as [an other, to all others] and not better than other people if you've never much noticed being treated as worse, or at least not as As Worse as Those people or That person, and maybe just b/c You'd only explain something to someone to patronize them b/c nothing should ever not be immediately understood, doesn't mean other people trying to convey their experiences and ideas to you b/c they know you're different people are attacking you as so inferior to you as to be patronized, b/c you're different ppl and they Are better at communicating / socializing when not treating others as inferior or superior Or only equal b/c of being Litchrelly the same person as you, Never even share a thought b/c Of Course i'd immeidately agree with it, how dare you, shut the fuck up

(thinking how people can Parallelly share a space without talking / seemingly interacting more directly than that, as "i am comfortable w/your presence" and/or "we can both use this space as we see fit simultaneously w/little to no need to hash anything out abt it / may rather silently work around what the other is doing" and this may be seen as signaling hostility / contempt / some power play, like also when cats do it b/c they choose to be around you. or just so Weird. you can't even go to a public place Alone, are you kidding? weird And sad)

maybe just saying "don't be afraid to ask questions / for help :)" doesn't make everyone comfortable asking questions / for help, or otherwise able to. maybe not even doing that much & simply thinking your being Normal & correctly Friendly implicitly conveys it to all & makes you approachable is not that guarantee, either. maybe saying "just tell me if anything makes You uncomfortable" doesn't put the responsibility on them for real, just surely takes any blame off you (no?). like sorry do you Want to asap reach a point where you can forever stop being concerned with how what you do may affect others and assume you're perfectly correct abt the needs of everyone you encounter and how your behavior is good enough to one size fits all treat anyone? speaking of being patronizing, and the attitudes behind it. someone who's abused is now Wronger about how to treat them so that they can feel safe. if they want to communicate in ways that seem weird or too distant they're wronging Me, if some misalignment can only be recognized through someone being hurt (as only judged as reasonable / real by the more Normal party) and having to have a conflict as a Fight to determine who the Wrong / Loser party is, what do you mean that's not going to feel safe to everyone. it can't be that a lot of people easily hurt others without having to notice it or Feel wrong about it. dunno how it could be that ppl are like "does being autistic share traits/behaviors associated w/trauma or is it that like everyone is all but guaranteed trauma for being autistic" and if it does well clearly what matters is no normal people feeling bad for thoughtless contemptuous abusive treatment or having to consider operating on different social values/principles towards any & everyone? the autistic people should just become not autistic, i.e. not exist, i.e. also it's their fault how other ppl treat them, whoops it's the same logic behind [anyone abused in any situation / form]

also the idea that like, what, oh someone's Wronged if they didn't feel they had the Chance to Befriend someone or even be Close to them, like, what, is anyone Entitled to even have some trial run at being any given person's friend, or close to them, or w/e other personal access to them? ppl can then cite a noble Concern like oh but if they don't let anyone in they'll be alone, oh but if a child avoids me their shit parent in their room then that can't be good for them, oh but if an autistic person goes unpunished then they'll always be hated & mistreated (as deserved), like, the primarily cited Benevolent Magnanimous reason for the disdain is secondary to [i'm just justifying continuing on exactly as i've been doing, b/c i already can] like yeah oh my god could it be possible that people in shitty positions going through shitty experiences might have complicated reactions to that reality that is different than yours but not Wronger just b/c you think yours is better / more Normal, which means better. and if they ever take on any blame / take on more responsibility in ways that they direct inwards, like that they Continue to be responsible for how others feel about them, what they assume about them, and how they treat them, (which they probably are b/c that's totally for [inferior abnormaller people] like nervous unconfident loser weirdos like them who just Failed to respect Themselves enough to not be abused & continue to be blamed for that, as well as for not being treated w/basic respect as an equal person) well then how heroic to use the idea of their compounding hurt to wash your hands of your own responsibility in any interactions w/them. they have to become as Normal as me first, how unreasonable for someone to recognize that even "normal" interactions involve some people being deemed superior while other people are more scrutinized, punished, and blamed, w/no recourse, even in Casual Friendly exchanges :) so mean to have been too uncomfortable to say they were uncomfortable or have felt too unsafe to say they felt unsafe! *i* was within my rights as [but i'm just so normal and well meaning] and i mean what do they expect, their standards are impossible and unreasonable and unfair b/c it's not i the range of Normal to Haaave to accommodate them (ugh. the Real imposition), and they're just using excuses vs taking Responsibility & enacting Agency anyways, their fault entirely. people are so sensitive these days you can't just have a conversation??? i have no problem w/this logic thanks

anyways it's half past one and i could always go on. normative standpoint "bad conflict skills" [handshake] "bad social skills" like hmm are they really. so heroic to worrying abt if [xyz] is bad for themself but what's good for themself would probably make you think they're even more of an asshole who's wronging you (e.g. someone consciously trying to be "worse" at [preventing the least conflicts via people pleasing], someone consciously trying to be "worse" at [being deemed marginally more socially successful via masking]), are you being wronged or did you presume you're entitled to something / perceive someone else as entitled b/c they weren't acting like you're inherently better than them, which you are, there's not a problem unless power is threatened, which makes it always the totally inferior people's faults, *i* didn't think there was a problem & *i* would've known (backup: well how was *i* supposed to know)....who gets to be superior, who's always in the Process of having to work for deserving basic respect as a person (b/c they keep failing to deserve it ofc), who's more vulnerable and has no recourse even if they don't like it and would be out of line just asking for otherwise / merely implying as much by expressing that they're hurt, who has the power to hurt someone whether through malicious schemes or spontaneous thoughtlessness/ignorance, who has restricted choices re: their autonomy, who gets to choose what happens to other people & the elements of their personhood, their time, energy, body, feelings, effort, etc, & hurt / imperil (require they take on more vulnerability/precarity) them to enforce it....but who cares like just go "i'm so normal that it's relatable" & wash your hands of anything, after all your time as the individual hero out here lol. try being an Other To Others rando as good as anyone else who can handle the idea they're wrong / don't already know how to be perfectly right abt everything / not feeling the least actively malicious or "out of line" isn't the end all be all sole priority. what are we talking about with what "conflict" fundamentally is, or how to approach it, or the same re: being "social"? well only assholes who wanna flex on me by being pedantic would bring it up

[azulhood]

Danny and Jazz were almost at the end of their rope.

They've checked almost everyone they knew who would take them in.

Sam's family? Didn't want them living under the same roof as their daughter.

Mr Lancer? He did actually want to take them in but his one bedroom apartment was not a suitable place for kids to live and his teachers salary couldn't afford to support three people.

Tucker's family? Got shut down by Vlad.

Which was the end of the list of who could get custody, well living at least.

There was no way either of them were living with Vlad, and with that in mind, they decided to get creative.

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

When Edward woke up, sitting at an old interrogation table in what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse (don't ask him which one, gothem had too many) and splitting pain in his head from most likely getting knocked out, his first thought was I knew it.

Gotham rogues had been disappearing only to reappear the next day with no memory and often in bad shape, like black mask and Bane.

Some of the rogues, such as penguin and Ivy, believed that they would be safe from the next attack.

Edward was slightly more pessimistic.

And it turned out he was right.

"ahem." Noise brought his attention to the warehouses other occupants.

Two teenagers.

It was strange to think that these two put Bane into a coma, but Edward had spent most of his nights getting the stuffing beaten out of him by a child wearing the colours of a traffic light so he was suitably wary.

"How can I help you?" Being polite was always a good idea when kidnapped by possible meta children (because no normal person could walk away from a fight with Bane, the bats don't qualify as normal.)

"Hi, I'm Jazz and this is Danny." The red head introduced herself and the blue eyed boy next to her. "Nice to meet you Mr Nygma."

"Nice to meet you as well." His mouth responded on autopilot as he panicked over being addressed by name, no one who kidnapped him did that ( which was mostly the bats taking him back to Arkham after another foiled plan) unless they were Amanda Waller.

"Right, now that we all know each other, let's get started." Danny said pulling out a sheet of paper and star themed pen from somewhere.

"Get started on what?" Torture? Edward would really like to know if that was the case.

"The interview." Jazz explained " You just have to answer a few questions then you get to go, after we wipe your memory of course, we have someone who we don't want knowing we're in Gotham."

"Oh, of course." Edward replied faintly as he processed the information given to him.

"And if you get job we'll contact you in a week." Danny added as he twirled his pen. "Got it?"

"Yes." Edward had never been more confused in his life.

[astonmartinii]

undercover verstappen | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem verstappen!reader

get you a girlfriend who will threaten mutiny to get you a seat at a competent team

based on this request: HI BABES I HOPE YOU ARE WELL! I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM! So basically I have an idea for a (possible?) Smau series, so basically it's Charles leclerc × verstappen!reader, she is a reserve driver for redbull but is also maxs race engineer (idk if you call it that? The person that talks to them that one) so she's very involved with the team and f1 in general. The public doesn't know that her and Charles are dating, and they don't even think it as Charles and max "hate" eachother (they are both doing this to protect readers and Charles relationship, they are actually besties) and basically, reader has enough if ferraris tractor, so she's like 'I will get you too redbull' and then checo retires at the end of the 2023 season, and instead of taking the job when she was offered it, she asks if Charles could have it (obviously not publicised) and Christian is like "Yes very good idea" so he asks Charles who is uncertain at first but is then OK with the idea (he is worried about becoming a second driver to max but there is lots of reassuring that he won't be nd so he accepts) and then he goes on to win 2024 wdc (and wcc but irrelevant) and he's sad that he couldn't do it with ferrari omg that's long sorry babes - @lillians-world-is-f1

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redbullracing: checo has informed the team that he will be retiring from the sport at the end of the 2023 season. we thank checo for his service and all the good times, he will forever be a legend of this sport. VAMOS CHECO 👏

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user1: EXCUSE ME?

user2: they really thought they could drop this on a monday and we'd all be chill

maxverstappen1: i've heard tequila tastes even better when you're retired, congrats mate - we'll miss you

user3: wait does this mean it'll be double verstappen on the grid now?

user4: there's more than one of them?

user5: max's sister is the girl you'll hear on his radio and she's technically the reserve driver as well. so she might step up to the second seat now checo has retired

user6: idk about you but that spells trouble to me

yourusername: congrats checo! will miss you, carola and all the little ones x

schecoperez: you won't be able to get rid of them that easily, i'll be cashing in on some well earned babysitting hours

yourusername: can't wait !!!

user7: what i'm hearing is that there's a chance for a daniel return to red bull?

user8: double verstappen or maxiel i don't want to choose they're both my children

user9: i'm making an outside shout for a charles leclerc red bull era

user10: i am seeing the lestappen vision

user11: my personal headcanon is that both verstappens and charles are all besties and have always been besties

christianhorner: thank you for your service checo, first drink on me 👍

user12: i know christian is sweating having to make a choice between child no 2 y/n and child no 3 daniel

user13: idk i think daniel might have the edge

user14: if geri or max have anything to do with it we might have a team so dutch that the car will be orange next season

user15: christian punching the walls cause lando extended his mclaren contract literally last week 😭

EXCERPT OF RECORDING OF THE RED BULL GARAGE, ABU DHABI

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 892,309 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: verstappens take the city

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user18: i just know they are simultaneously the best people to party with but also the people you probably don’t want at a house party

yourusername: i’ll have you know i once plunged a toilet at a house party and disposed of a “sick sandwich” i am a DELIGHT

user19: and max?

yourusername: no comment

maxverstappen1: as if ! i don’t care if we’re blood im suing you for slander

yourusername: i watched you volley a vase at AD21

maxverstappen1: i paid for it !!! and you said it was a sick shot anyway FAKE

yourusername: you can say that cause personally i was not at fault of any of my actions that night x

user20: PLEASE MA'AM AT LEAST ONE SEASON OF DOUBLE TROUBLE PLEASE

user21: idk if i could deal with seeing jos verstappen every weekend tho...

user22: obsessed with how neither verstappen follow charles but here he be in her notifications again

user23: someone add it to the interaction spreadsheet i am CONVINCED it will one day lead to more

landonorris: lando norris erasure once again

user24: DID YOU WRITE THAT NOTE???

landonorris: hell no i'd rather peel my skin off than call the three raccoons disguised as a woman pretty

yourusername: good gosh we would've got the point without all of that

maxverstappen1: yeah lando only i'm allowed to call y/n the raccoons in a trench coat. know your place.

user25: so you do wanna tell us who wrote the note then?

yourusername: nope ;p

user26: only y/n and max have been spotted out so maybe it's just brotherly love

user27: LOL? MAX? BROTHERLY LOVE?

danielricciardo: invite seemed to get lost in the mail again

yourusername: either get a room or get out of my comment section

maxverstappen1: ???

user28: no maxiel red bull again. i don't think y/n's blood pressure can take it

f1

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 2,544,924 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & maxverstappen1

f1: ready to see them as teammates? charles leclerc has signed a deal with red bull to keep him at the team until 2028.

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user29: excuse me *clears throat* WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

redbullracing: welcome charles!!! no inchidents please

charles_leclerc: will we ever hear the end of that joke?

redbullracing: we know what the girlies want charles

maxverstappen1: you get used to it after a while. no ice bath thirst traps here though

charles_leclerc: phew 😥

user30: this little hoe pretending he didn't love it

user31: wait ??? does this mean what i think it could mean? GIRLFRIEND?

user32: i can't take leaving ferrari and a girlfriend in one day sorry

yourusername: welcome to the team charles :)

user33: don't think we forgot about the recording babe... IS THIS WHO YOU RECOMMENED?

danielricciardo: it better not be because if you recommended your lil boyfriend over sexy ol' me i'm gonna be real mad 😭

this comment was deleted

user34: WE SAW THAT WHAT THE FUCK

maxverstappen1: daniel you are so fucking dumb

yourusername: MAX? IGNORE IT?

maxverstappen1: bro it's all over twitter you might as well take the moment to curse out daniel before christian confiscates our phones

yourusername: DANIEL JOSEPH RICCIARDO YOU RAT BASTARD I'M GONNA RIP WHATEVER REMAINING HAIR YOU HAVE LEFT AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR SURPRISINGLY PERKY ASS. IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT YOU AND YOUR CHILD BEARING HIPS WILL NEVER GET CLOSE TO A RED BULL EVER AGAIN FOR EXPOSING A SECRET US THREE HAVE KEPT FOR SEVEN FUCKING YEARS

charles_leclerc: what she said

maxverstappen1: oop.

user35: well. can we keep going this is quite fun.

christianhorner: they're all in time out sorry

user36: okay well now that happened... when can we get "who knows me better my boyfriend or my brother" lestappen version 🤨

charles_leclerc: i would wipe the floor with him

maxverstappen1: of course you would you BIG FAT NERD

charles_leclerc: i thought christian took your phone?

maxverstappen1: as if he doesn't fall for the verstappen puppy dog eyes every time

charles_leclerc: you'll use them for me right babe, RIGHT BABE?

yourusername: idk charlie, this is family business

christianhorner: i've taken their phones again

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,304,555 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & maxverstappen1

yourusername: my favourite men in the world doing what they do best

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user37: take me out back and shoot me already

christianhorner: interesting i don't see myself here and considering i pay your wages...

yourusername: dads go in different categories?

christianhorner: don't use my paternal instincts against me y/n

yourusername: say goodbye to your father's day card

christianhorner: NO I'M SORRY

user38: the way this proves that second red bull really was y/n's ...

user39: for real imagine loving a MAN so much you give it to HIM 🤮

user40: she also said in that recording at jos made it so bad for the two of them when they did compete that she no longer wanted to give the fans and the media the chance to do it either

charles_leclerc: oh wow that's crazy, you're my favourite woman ever

yourusername: don't be so rude to mama pascale

charles_leclerc: well other than mama obvioysly

yourusername: so i'm not your favourite, i see how it is

charles_leclerc: I AM SO CONFUSED SO I'M JUST GONNA SAY I LOVE YOU

yourusername: awww charlie i love you too

user41: okay i've known about them approximately two weeks and i love them your honour

maxverstappen1: i'm so much better than him y/n be real

yourusername: don't be such a sore loser maxy

maxverstappen1: don't get it twisted, i still won on track

charles_leclerc: not for long

yourusername: okay girlies leave the trash talk for the weekends this is being normal for the sake of y/n's mental health time

user42: good lord this trio is so dear to me

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1,043,788 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

maxverstappen1: best thing about winning is choosing the restaurant after - closely followed about the worst thing: third wheeling them.

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user43: max coming through with the y/n and charles content as he should

user44: i need him to open the vault cause i have not forgotten that y/n said this relationship is seven years old

yourusername: i think i had a wet dream about this sushi spread last night

maxverstappen1: as long as that's it, good.

yourusername: i don't need to have wet dreams anymore, the real thing is so much better

maxverstappen1: BLOCKED.

user45: i know y/n is elated to be able to publicly terrorise max with her relationship

user46: so does this mean that this is a system they've had for a while?

yourusername: room service is our middle names

charles_leclerc: maximilian can you please send the last pic to the shared album

maxverstappen1: on it 🫡

user47: SHARED ALBUM? I MIGHT DIE

yourusername: you two are such cutie patooties

maxverstappen1: but for real no being so cute on my jet again or just wait for me to go for my nap

charles_leclerc: heard and understood

yourusername: or maybe just get a life and stop being so lonely

danielricciardo: can i join for sushi or am i still banned?

maxverstappen1: eh, you could take y/n in a scrap

danielricciardo: she read my ass for filth on main i'm scared of her

charles_leclerc: she had you gagged

danielricciardo: and this litlle guard puppy agrees with whatever she says :(

yourusername: as he should !

maxverstappen1: don't try and fight it daniel, i've been in this losing battle for seven years

charles_leclerc

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername and 1,834,903 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: life in blue could never be blue with you. i love you baby, thank you for giving me this opportunity, every trophy is for you x

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user48: GOD PLEASE SAVE ME PLEASE GOD SAVE ME FROM THIS SINGLE LIFE.

yourusername: i love you too charlie, i'd do everything and more for you. i'm happy you're happy x

charles_leclerc: you can't get rid of me at this point

yourusername: seven years strong, i'm stuck to you like glue

charles_leclerc: you'll have my last name (or i can take yours) next

maxverstappen1: you can give her a ring but you'll NEVER TAKE THE VERSTAPPEN NAME AWAY

yourusername: you good?

maxverstappen1: yeah but we must always be double trouble. not even THAT man will come between that

user49: this is the trio of my dreams i need a whole drive to survive ep or even spin off just following these losers around

danielricciardo: see how could you be angry that i would want to talk about all this cuteness ?

yourusername: we are cute, correct.

charles_leclerc: i'd use the words incredibly sexy but okay

danielricciardo: are you guys still angry? I'M TRYING TO COMPLIMENT YOU

yourusername: we forgive you daniel.

charles_leclerc: i was also kissing her on my first podium REGARDLESS

yourusername: you're so romantic 🥰

maxverstappen1: GAG.

user50: convinced that max will still be the biggest big brother asshole until he is in the retirement home

alexalbon: flexing the alex albon and lily mun he photography i see

yourusername: thank you for your service

lilymunhe: we can also keep a secret 🤫

danielricciardo: I SAID I WAS SORRY

charles_leclerc: we're gonna hold it over you forever buddy

danielricciardo: was taking the red bull seat not enough?

charles_leclerc: until i win a championship? yes.

fin.

note: I'M BACK!! hope this was what you were looking for xx also, if you guys ever want to support me in any way i have a tip jar on kofi and also my small business @badlydrawnf1cats that has a sticker sheet available right now - love you all xx

[mickyschumacher]

Can we have a part two of baby fever?

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: pregnant with charles' baby, in a surprise turn of events, he's been able to keep his hands off of you. but just how long does that restraint last when he's faced with a problem: the tenderness of pregnancy? or in which, charles is struck yet again with the case of baby fever. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: established relationship, 18+ (minors DNI), unprotected sex (wrap it if u don't want dem babies), breeding kink (although atp idk), lactation kink, mutual orgasms, pussy eating, again pussy rubbing(?), cumming inside, reader is sensitive as shit again, poor interpretation of pregnancy terminology, fluff at the start and towards the end, minimal use of french endearments, a criminal minds reference from yours truly <3

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: charles leclerc x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: everyone wanted another one! sooooo here it is! i wasn't sure whether to do this during or after pregnancy but i ended up choosing the former. hope you like it ♡︎ see you lot next year :)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

You knew the exact day, hour, minute, and second the two lines on that test appeared and confirmed the wish you and Charles had been waiting for. But what got you there... now that was a mystery. It was like finding that one specific good needle in a stack of needles.

Ever since your boyfriend had mentioned children to you, you and Charles have spent more time acting like animals in heat. It was lewd, obscene, sometimes immoral given the places it happened, but God was it hot.

You were currently coming towards the end of your second trimester. Your baby bump wasn't visible to the naked eye when you wore clothes but no one would also deny that you were pregnant. Apparently, your baby girl (yes a girl, the already doting Charles couldn't be more thrilled) was the size of a banana.

Besides feeling sick, having odd cravings, and being unusually hormonal, you were heavily preparing for your due date. Honestly, you didn't need to prepare that much. Charles had been working on it himself with both of your families so you didn't feel stress. And as sweet as it was, you couldn't help it. You were having a baby for Christ's sake. This wasn't a paper you thought you could wing the night before.

Your eyes strained at the pile of pregnancy books Mama Leclerc had brought you, all new and updated with the times... her words not yours.

You liked to read. It was your favourite pastime. But this... this wasn't particularly enjoyable. Scary, if anything. How on earth did people get anything done with this much information? You have to have enough iron to prevent defects to the baby but not too much otherwise you could still harm the baby?

Huh?

You blinked and shook your head. Your eyes reverted to the also busy (reading) bee sat on the couch. You smiled softly at the sight of Charles. It was winter. The sun was still making it's visits but it was cold enough to put on the heater in the early evening. Charles wrapped up in that one cream knit sweater you brought him with his glasses and book five on parenting tips made you all warm on the inside.

You quietly walked over to him, pulling the book gently from his hands. "What are you thinking of, amour?" You queried, slowly removing his glasses from his face and resting them with the book on the coffee table.

Charles smiled at your presence, opening his arms so you could sit on his lap. His one hand automatically came to your stomach, rubbing your bump like he had been ever since he saw those two lines. The other held your waist, knowing very well your back had been getting sore without doing anything but walking.

He hummed in thought. "I was thinking about when exactly I got you pregnant. Was it the morning in the hotel room in the end of year party in Abu Dhabi? Or in the bathroom on the ride from Qatar to Texas? Italy, maybe? The wine was really good that night."

You gasped at his words, smacking him lightly on his arm. "You animal... and here I was thinking you were being all sweet, reading about parenting."

Charles grinned, blues eyes twinkling at you. "Hey, I have to tell our princess one day where she came from. And it won't be a stork. Maybe I'll say in my driving room in Japan."

Your mouth dropped in shock at the nonchalant shrug you received from Charles. You pushed yourself out of his arms. "Charles!" You practically screeched in horror, making a wave of laughter fall from his lips.

His arms quickly reached towards you, pulling you closer as your warmth was just beginning to disappear. "I'm kidding... mostly," Charles mumbled, smiling at your small glare.

You rolled your eyes, looking at Charles with sarcastic gaze before you narrowed it. "Also 'princess?' What about me?" You pouted.

Charles chuckled softly, holding you tighter. "You're still my princess, amour. But when our little girl comes, you'll be my queen."

You blinked, trying to suppress the cringe and embarrassment. "I'm going to go pretend to throw up because I'm pregnant and not because of you. But I'll find it endearing some other day... in the far, far future.

Charles sighed, shaking his head. "You're a menace."

You gaped at him. "I'm a menace. That's rich coming from you. Weren't you the one who was just thinking about which place we screwed each other to have this child?"

Charles winced, putting his forehead on your shoulder. "Well, when you say it like that..." He grimaced. Sucking in a sharp breath, he decided to change subjects. "How does brunch sound?"

Your ears perked up and your eyes squinted with a sudden happiness. "I'm cooking," Charles told you. You dropped your smile. "It sounds awful..."

━━━━━━━━━━━

After teasing Charles for his cooking, you did end up having lunch. Charles, who was initially terrible at making any morsel of food, had found his talent in making pregnancy food.

Even though Charles lacked knowledge about food, ever since you found out you were pregnant, he had made sure every single thing you ate was edible for you and your little girl.

It was amusing to be honest.

You had joined Lorenzo and the others for dinner at a restaurant and the moment a wine bottle landed on the table, Charles pushed the bottle away from you as far as he could, fearing even the mere particles of wine you could breathe in would affect you.

As entertaining as it was, it was sweet. You knew that Charles naturally had a fear of being a bad father. His own father was the kindest soul he had ever met, his role model. Living up to that was going to be difficult. Furthermore, he still wanted to maintain a high standard while racing. Similar to that of Sebastian. But even Seb had ended up taking some time off to spend with his kids.

"What's with the face?" Charles queried, eyeing from the kitchen as he finished drying the last plate.

You blinked out of your trance. A tired sigh fell from your lips. "My boobs."

The plate in Charles' hands almost fell. Charles' head snapped towards you. "I... your... what?" He spluttered, putting down the plate gently before walking over to you.

You smiled softly at his confusion. You were about to speak up but Charles suddenly jutted out his hands. "No, wait! Don't tell me. I've got this. I read now."

The comment elicited a small laugh from your chest. Nodding, you waited patiently as he pondered around you.

"Okay... boobs... uh, this is great. I actually can't stop picturing your boobs now." Charles gave you a pointed look. You raised your hands in your defence, signalling him that this wasn't your problem. Your boyfriend fell into thought again, trying to think back to all the books he had been reading. Was it chapter three or six? It wasn't exactly breastfeeding...

"Ah!" Charles clapped his hand, dragging a seat from the table to sit in front of you. "Lactation! Tender breasts. While the tenderness tends to be less during the second trimester... uh, what was it? The... the lactation, yes, the lactation may cause more discomfort instead."

You watched Charles delve into an explanation about the biology behind it as if he was Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds. Another side of him you were discovering through this pregnancy. Charles didn't retain much information unless it was about you or racing, but if it was related to pregnancy, little did you know, he would eventually become a wikipedia.

You blinked slowly. "So are you going to help?" You asked, cutting him off abruptly.

Charles paused at your words. He raised his brows. "Help you?" He enunciated each word clearly.

You nodded, leaning back into your chair. "I thought you were going clean me up," You whispered in a way that had Charles' cock jumping again. "Something about massaging my breasts."

Charles' mouth felt dry. "I did say that..." He trailed off before letting out a groan. "Ah, ma chérie, why would you say that? I–fuck. You know how I feel about this."

You leaned over, putting a hand over his knee. "Charles, the doctor said it's fine."

Charles felt strongly about your breasts during your pregnancy. They were bigger, heavier and fuller. It turned him on more than he imagined it to. But as much as he was waiting for you to lactate, Charles also felt strongly about not hurting you. 'Cleaning' you up would only make him want to have sex and he was terrified about hurting you or the baby.

"I know..." Charles murmured, sucking in a sharp breath. Your doctor who remained professional to the end when you asked whether you could have sex (much to Charles' embarrassment and joy) cleared you for it. Actually, they encouraged it, saying it was good and healthy for the both of you.

Yet, Charles couldn't help be worried. So much to the point where you hadn't had sex for well over fifteen weeks.

"I mean if you seriously don't want to," You told him, retracting your hand. "It's okay."

Charles quickly took your hand back with his own. "No, I want to. Seriously, you have no idea how much I want to," He said with his voice thick, sending a familiar tingle between your thighs. "I just..." He sighed, "You'd tell me if I hurt you, right?"

Your eyes softened. Squeezing his hand gently, you used the other to caress his face. You gave a firm nod. "In a heartbeat," You promised.

Charles smiled lightly. With your hand in his, he stood up. "Let's go to the bedroom, hmm?"

━━━━━━━━━━━

After taking off your underwear, Charles let out a low breath as he peeled off your shirt to see your bare breasts in front of him. He'd seen them when you got ready in the morning, it drove him crazy, but his fear always got to him first.

Looking at them like this, so close to him, it reminded him of the first time you had sex. Except, your breasts weren't showing such obvious signs of pregnancy: so full, almost two cup sizes bigger.

Charles pressed his lips together tightly, eyes glued to your breasts before flickering down to your stomach. He could see the bump a lot more clearly now that it was bare. The sight of it made him happy in far too many ways. It was like he was a teenager all over again. He wasn't sure what to do first.

Slowly, you encouraged him, silently bringing his hand over to your breasts.

A shaky breath fell from his mouth as a sudden surge of warmth came in contact with his hand. He moved his eyes to you, testing the waters by moving his thumb over your nipple. By your hitched breath and your suddenly dazed eyes, Charles could tell you were sensitive and completely fine. But he needed your words.

Bringing his other hand to your face, his thumb trailed of your lips. "Are you okay?" He softly asked, still grazing over your nipple.

"Charles," You let out a strained sigh, "If you don't move your fucking hand or do something, I will move it for you."

Yup, you were okay.

Charles chuckled quietly. His teeth sunk into his lips upon feeling a slight wetness at the pad of his thumb. He gulped at the white milk falling out of your nipple.

You eagerly watched Charles' head duck closer towards your breasts, mouth opening to wrap his lips around your milk covered nipple. A long whine fell from your mouth, head digging into your mattress. Your hand travelled up his neck and into his hair, eliciting a grunt from Charles as you pushed yourself further into his touch.

The taste on Charles' tongue was unlike anything he had ever tasted (well that he remembered of). It was sweet and creamy, coating his mouth ever so smoothly. It was a strange yet satisfying thought to think that while your body had made the milk, a part of him had participated in it. Technically, he had also made it. "Fuck," He hissed against your breast, realising your milk was far too addictive.

You let out another moan, tightening your grip on Charles' hair, feeling the grasp of his other hand on your other breast, twisting your pebbled nipple as he sucked on the other.

Your pussy was fully drenched, sensitive to any touch you received from Charles. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to relieve the creeping arousal that was intoxicating you.

Charles grunted, short breaths falling from his lips as he parted from your nipples. You whimpered at the sight of him licking the white liquid from his lips. The look in his blue eyes was surreal; crazed like a monster that wouldn't be satiated until he had entirely devoured you.

He brought his lips to yours, bringing you into a heated sloppy kiss. Your mouth moved against his, the taste of your own milk entering your tastebuds while your skin burned at his touch. Charles' breaths were heavy, chest rising up and down rapidly. "You taste that, princess?" He queried, lips lazily falling down your jaw. "You taste so fucking good," He rasped.

"Charles," You moaned out, hips jerking up at every tug on your nipple against a race of desperation.

"I know, baby, I know," Charles murmured with slight disbelief. He couldn't wrap his head around how sensitive you were. You were squirming and aching for his touch just by the touch of your nipples. His cock throbbed as his mind wandered just how you'd react to his cock or his tongue against your drenched folds.

Reluctantly, Charles moved his mouth away from your breasts, still keeping his hands on them, groping and teasing you with no mercy. Arriving to your pussy, he bit down on his swollen lips, uttering out a string of curses under his breath. He knew you were wet but not this wet. You had made a mess... the bed sheets were sported damp spots while your inner thighs were glazed with your arousal, ready to be eaten.

An apology quickly flew from his lips, making you furrow your brows. "For leaving you untouched," He murmured, hot breath dancing across your thighs yet cool to your burning folds. "Amour, I'm going to make up for it. Every fucking day," He promised.

Your stomach churned at his words while you drew in a deep breath. Christ. "I'm holding you to that promise, Cha," You whispered lightly, growing antsy with every passing second.

Charles grinned shamelessly against your thigh. "I should start now then, hmm?" He baited you by leaving soft kisses against your ample flesh, nose just skimming your pussy. He couldn't help but smile at the sudden gasp fallen from your reddened lips and jerk of your hips. You were clenching around nothing.

Your head dug into the mattress of your bed as Charles placed his mouth against your pussy, flattening his tongue and taking a long stripe of your warm folds. He sucked on every part of your pussy, darting his tongue on every crevice so naturally as if he had committed it to memory.

Your mewls that had turned into pure blubbers. You were sure you weren't making any sense. All that you knew was that Charles was eating you like he was tasting you for the first time, barely coming out for a breath while his nose rubbed against your clit, lapping at you like some sort of animal and it felt fucking phenomenal.

Charles' cock was uncomfortably and impossibly tight against his pants. He was struggling between continuing to eat you out because you tasted so good and prepping you for his cock. He was desperate to feel your walls again.

Your blubbers were now high pitched gasps upon feeling Charles' tongue drag to your clit, nibbling and sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves as he propped one finger into your walls. You could feel the coil in your stomach tighten. "Fuck, Charles," You moaned, hips jerking up to get even more stimulation while your eyes were clamped shut.

Charles grunted against your pussy, feeling your toes curl while he thrusted his finger out of you. God, you were even tight around his single finger. He couldn't help but wonder how you were going to give birth. His eyes darted up to your face, watching your back arch, exposing your leaking breasts to more air while your breath quivered. He could tell you were close.

Charles promised he'd be gentle. But he never promised he'd be kind.

Your eyes snapped open at the sudden loss of Charles' touch and the quickly distancing euphoria. You whined in annoyance. Even now, Charles was a menace.

"I know, princess. I'm sorry. Fuck, I just need to be in you, hmm?" Charles mumbled in a hurry, moving his body up and scrambling to remove his boxers. If he kept lapping at you like the animal he was, he was sure he was going to cum just like that.

If this was any other circumstance, you were sure you would be cursing at Charles in French. But taking a look at his throbbing cock, standing strong and hard in all it's glory... it took the words right of your mouth and had sent all the feelings straight to your pussy. In fact, you were even patient in the mere seconds it took Charles to adjust himself over you, revelling in his dazed hooded eyes, the blown pupils and his sweat-glittered skin.

Charles place the finger he had put inside you on your lips, gesturing for you to suck your arousal off. Without any objection, you parted your swollen lips and took a slow and long stripe of his finger, tasting yourself on your tongue. A guttural groan came from his mouth. Any second longer...

You sucked in a sharp breath when Charles let his bubbling saliva slowly fall from his mouth and onto the aching tip of his cock, rubbing the natural lube up and down his shaft. Shifting his hips a bit, the both of you let out a low blow upon the feeling of his flushed cock on your puffy folds.

Charles hovered over your body, placing his swollen lips on your leaking breast, savouring the sweet taste of your milk while letting his cock rub against your engorged pussy. He could hear your soft whimpers, loud enough for the entire room to reverberate off its walls. A rippling tremble surged through his body as he rocked his cock against your folds, feeling your wetness soak mix with his saliva and coat him entirely.

"Charles," You mewled, "Keep teasing and you won't feel this pussy again I promise."

The threat you made was empty and weak. The both of you knew it. Yet, the mere possibility or even the thought made Charles quickly but carefully push his cock into your pussy. He grunted at the feeling of your walls around his cock slowly welcoming you. Shit... You were tighter around his cock than his finger, already clenching around him.

"Merde," Charles swore. "You feel so good, princess."

Your hands fell around his neck, loosely holding him to you as his cock stretch you out. You could tell he wasn't as deep as he usually was with the baby taking up more space but when combined with your pregnant sensitivity, it left you more flustered and blazing than ever.

"Are you okay?" Charles managed to grit out.

You gave him a rushed nod. "Move... please," You begged, struggling to keep your eyes open.

Charles' hips began to move faster at your command, rutting at such as speed that pushed his aching cock against your walls, lost in the pleasure your brought by gripping him like a vice. His eyes fell to your mouth. Your moans and whines looked as though they were going to burst out of you. Bringing his puffy lips to yours, he swallowed all your angelic and sinful sounds into his body like he was consuming your very essence.

His hand travelled to your hips before trailing to your bump. The things this baby had done to him before even confirming those two lines was beyond Charles. Pulling away from your lips, he almost faltered when he saw your face.

God, you were just so... beautiful. Your flushed face, lust-ridden eyes, sweat-ridden hair moving in all sorts of directions, skin even stained with his marks of love he had made unknowingly... all with that pregnancy glow... beautiful.

"I love you, ma chérie," He whispered out. "You're going to be the most wonderful and gorgeous mother in the entire universe. Our baby is going to be the luckiest child."

Tears pricked at your eyes as the pleasure still coursed through you. The coil in your stomach was coming to a breaking point while broken sobs came out of your mouth. Fuck, you couldn't even tell what you wanted anymore. Your hand reached out to Charles' face, feeling the small hairs on his face as you caressed him. "And you're the only person I would ever want with me... the only person who could be the father of my... our children."

Charles let out a faint high pitched moan. His hand moved to your abandoned clit, starting his abuse on the sensitive bundle of nerves. You let out a silent gasp while he chased both of your climaxes, his twitching cock snapping into you. Everything around you began to blur while your orgasm hit you in big waves as his hips stuttered against you, spilling ropes and ropes of his warm, white cum into your walls.

Your body convulsed as Charles continued to rub your clit, taking advantage of your sensitive state almost selfishly just so he could see you completely space it out in the ecstasy of it all. You let out a soft cry, pussy clenching around him to take every last drop of his cum you could get as the last few waves of his orgasm shot through him.

Charles sighed, wincing softly while taking his cock out of you, making sure to fall down next to you instead of over you like he usually did. His sweaty arm brought you in closer to him, baby bump grazing his cock. Pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead he smiled down at your tired state. "I should clean you up more often, hmm, princess?"

You managed to roll your eyes, hitting him weakly in his arm. "You are awful."

Charles grinned, popping his dimples out at you. He nodded casually. "Yeah... but you love me," He teased.

You suppressed another eye roll and simply smiled, slowly succumbing to the heavy weight on your eyes. A yawn fell from your lips. "I do. I love you... a lot."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[toast-on-dandelioms]

Just Another Neglected Story

Part 3

You can find part 1 and part 2 here!

(For this part I am using they/them to talk about reader/you, but if you know a way to talk about reader without using you or they/them please tell me!)

Months passed and Spider was now famous amongst Gotham, known for stopping small gangs that bothered the neighbourhood but also helped them go back to school or find a job.

Spider was mostly famous for not immediately sending people to jail like most vigilantes, they helped if they could and didn't immediately fight and hurt people.

And Batman liked it, he wanted to know who was the person behind the mask, and to finally meet the famous Spider so his kids will stop fangirl over them.

Plus, by the video footage found by Oracle, it seemed like Spider was very good at fighting and quickly capturing with a type of web shooter, with the webs that dissolved in an hour or two.

Bruce was more interested as days passed by but his information about Spider didn't increase, since Oracle could only find so much by asking and no one knew much about the vigilante except generic stuff that almost anyone knew.

His sons were also interested in Spider, as they saw the vigilante as someone similar to them by seeing them fight to their moves when swinging by with a web shooter.

It was like a mini version of them and it amazed them.

Dick was amazed at how good Spider was in gymnastics like him, giving him the need to go with them and just practice together since his brothers were flexible but not like him.

But Spider was, they were almost similar to Dick which fueled his interest even more. He wanted to practice tricks that he did in the circus with them.

He could finally bond with a shared interest with someone and not seem weird.

Jason was interested at how good they were at fighting and sometimes using a gun if the enemy had one.

He saw how quick they were at disarming someone with a gun and using it against them, even if they were slightly injured to which he would always pay a visit to the person who hurt them in prison.

After all, they don't deserve to live if they dare to hurt Spider, even if it was just a scratch.

Tim was interested to their gadgets and especially how they could walk on walls, wanting to know everything about them and see if they use gadgets like them and Batman or if they're a metahuman.

He saw how strong they were, especially when they held a bus full of children that was almost falling off a bridge, while Superman was fighting a supervillain and couldn't come to their aid immediately.

Even though he found out who was Batman as a kid, Spider was a cryptic for him. Even with the help of Oracle he couldn't find anything useful.

And it was starting to drive him insane from the need of knowing everything about them.

And last, but not least.

Damian saw them being an inexperienced fighter but a resourceful one, seeing how they used the walls and everything they could find as a weapon if it helped.

He wanted to spar with them once, having the strange need to help them improve and also show off how good he was at fighting, wanting to be praised by them.

He didn't even know why since he never needed any praise from any of his brothers or his father, but he desired to be praised by that person.

The funny thing is that not one of them knew the real voice of Spider, as the vigilante used a voice modulator to sound different and distorted in the recordings that Oracle sent them regularly.

But even without knowing their real voice, the obsession that all of the batfam had just kept growing.

All of them wanted two to three things when they're gonna finally meet Spider for the first time:

• wanting to hear their real voice

• seeing who is hiding behind the mask

• recruit them to work with them as a vigilante and maybe even live with them at the Mansion.

But alas, whenever they tried to get to them, when they were done dealing with anything, the vigilante was always gone or immediately walked away using the walls.

To which Batman and all his sons tried different methods but the vigilante was always ready, avoiding their attemps to talk and never even giving them a word.

Usually small vigilantes, in the eyes of Batman, were always so eager to be acknowledged by such famous vigilante like him, but Spider was different.

Spider hated the attention they were getting and it was obvious, even though the mask didn't really make it see but their movements clearly showed frustration.

Or at least, they hated the attention they got from the batfam. Especially Batman and Damian, they avoided them the most.

Plus the middle finger they always did whenever they knew a security camera was on them was the cherry on top. It's like they knew that Batman was watching them and wanted to told him to fuck off.

But spiders can't hide forever can they? After some time, everything gets found.

And that's what happened that fateful night for the Batfamily, as they finally managed to locate where Spider usually hang out.

It was a bit difficult since Spider always moves after a week or two, maybe less if found out but this time they made sure to be more ninja-like.

They also got the help from Duke with his ability, just to make sure it was the right spot from seeing what happened in the past hours of the day.

Batman, even though he didn't want to, also asked for Superman's help, just to make sure he could catch Spider if they tried to escape.

He preferred to have all bases covered, just to be safe than sorry. Even though it did hurt his pride to ask Superman for help.

They all waited in the dark, knowing Spider usually comes to relax after a few hours of patrolling and helping around the streets.

Batman made the signal to stay silent when he heard the noise of the webs sticking to something and slinging around, waiting in silence with everyone with anticipation.

He stared in silence when Spider landed on the roof of the building, making a small noise when he saw Spider starting to take off the mask.

(Now it's reader/your pov now)

You stopped when your spider senses tingled, making you look around suspiciously and letting go of the hem of your mask.

You noticed many figures on the dark parts of the rooftop thanks to your heightened sight (?) and sighed, activating the voice modulator in your mask, doing that just to not give them any leads to your civilian identity.

You didn't know if they were enemies that were mad that you sent them to prison or someone they knew, so your guard was already high.

You stared at the dark parts before using your webs to capture one, thinking it was gonna be a criminal wrapped around your webs but just imagine the surprise when you saw that it was Red Robin.

You immediately knew what was going on, especially when you saw Superman flying towards you so you raised your hands in defeat, knowing you couldn't possibly fight against trained vigilantes, plus Batman and Superman.

You got down and freed Red Robin from your webs, using a pair of scissors you had in your bag pack that you always carry around in case you accidentally hit someone innocent with your webs.

You got up after finally finishing freeing Red Robin from the webs you wrapped him into, patting him on the hair out of habit of doing that with small kids you accidentally wrap in your webs.

You never hurt any kids, it's just that they accidentally got trapped in the webs and you had to free them and calm them down.

You looked up to see Batman in front of you, a bit creeped out at how silent he was since even your heightened hearing couldn't hear him. It was like he floated like Superman, but you knew that didn't happen.

You glared at him, a bit glad that your mask couldn't show your expressions, so they couldn't read them and use your own emotions against you.

You refused to give him or any of his sons something to use as leverage to manipulate you or making you think they actually wanted to spend time with you.

You started to get annoyed at the silence, especially since you just wanted them to go away, so you just started the annoying conversation that you hoped to avoid.

You also knew what they wanted, it was obvious since not one of them even called out your name so you knew they didn't know who you were behind the mask.

They were interested in Spider, the formidable vigilante and not interested in (Y/N), the forgotten child of Bruce Wayne.

"What do you want Batman? I don't think I am a criminal, so why are you bothering me?" you ask annoyed, the voice modulator making your voice distorted, so that it didn't even sound close to your real voice.

It was a nice add that you had to make, knowing that people would try to find out your real identity and usually voices are a clue, so modifying your voice with a device was the best thing to do.

Even though you never talked much when you were in your civilian clothes, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

Batman stared at you with the usual scowl that Batman always has, also showing no emotions.

He then started talking in his gruff, you don't really know how to describe his voice, but you knew it sounded completely different from when he's Bruce Wayne.

But the hatred and annoyance that bubbled up when you heard his voice was immense, having to take all your control to not punch him in the face.

The only thing you were glad about is that he was someone that immediately gets to the point, not wanting to stay even five more minutes with him and his so called 'batfamily'.

"I want you to join me and the Robins, your strenght, fighting skills and your intelligence when you use the objects and space as an advantage would be extremely helpful when fighting villains like Joker" he started, stopping with a confused expression when he heard laughter.

He looked down and saw you laughing, even though it sounded wrong and distorted thanks to the modulator. You almost kneeled down from how much you were laughing at his proposal.

He didn't know what he said to make you laugh so he waited for you to calm down, looking at Nightwing and Red Hood to see if they knew why you were laughing.

You stopped after a bit and just looked at Batman with no emotion, not that the mask showed it.

Your voice also came out with no emotion, like you didn't even care about Batman and his proposal. "I shall refuse this proposal Batman, I am not strong enough to fight villains like the Joker. I am more interested in helping people with small problems and small thefts since the police will do nothing to help them."

You grabbed your backpack that you left on the ground and got ready to leave, stopping to look at Batman and the other robins/vigilantes with him.

"Please don't follow me, I do not want to be bothered by you trying to convince me to join a team. I work alone" and left, using the buildings to swing around the city to get to another rooftop to use as a place to relax.

(End of your pov)

What you didn't know was that when you left, the other vigilantes glared at Batman, since he didn't try to butter you up and manipulate you.

Plus, Damian was glaring at Tim for having the privilege of being patted on the head by Spider in person. He wanted to be petted too, he wanted to be acknowledged by Spider.

Dick was glaring at Bruce and actually started an argument with him, trying to understand why he didn't even try to use one of his many manipulation tactics to have Spider join them.

Superman just stayed on the sidelines, a bit surprised that someone hated Batman, since he always saw people admiring the man.

Except Hal, usually he says it without anyone asking that he hates Batman. But he doesn't count.

Well he left after a bit of watching Dick, Jason and Bruce arguing, following Spider and finding them on another rooftop.

He looked away when he saw that Spider didn't have their mask on, not wanting to see their real identity without their permission.

He also made a loud noise so Spider could notice him and put their mask back on. He looked after a bit and was glad that he didn't accidentally had a face reveal without permission.

He landed next to Spider and stayed silent for a bit, noticing how smaller and skinnier Spider was compared to Red Robin or even just Robin.

He hummed when he understood that Spider wouldn't start the conversation and looked at them with a smile.

"Sorry to bother you, I'm not here to ask you to join Batman or even the Justice League" he started, a bit surprised when he saw Spider relax a bit.

It was a strange sight, seeing that someone doesn't want to join the Justice League but he wouldn't judge. Everyone has their reasons and he can't change everyone's mind.

Spider looked at him, curious about what he wanted if not to scout them in the Justice League. They were also amazed at how Superman looked in real life, since Spider always saw him on TV or on the newspaper and never met him face to face.

Superman smiled at Spider, floating down and standing next to them on the rooftop of the building "want to grab something to eat and talk? I just want to know why you want to be a vigilante".

Spider just kept looking at him before nodding and walking on the side of the building nonchalantly, knowing Superman was following them.

They stopped at a hotdog stand, still walking on the side of another building and tapped the shoulder of the worker, scaring the poor man that was working there.

Superman immediately apologized about scaring the poor man when the man shrieked and let a hotdog fall from his hands, glaring at Spider who was obviously laughing silently by the way they trembled with their hands over their mouth.

He quickly paid for the food and apologised again for how he and Spider scared the poor man, wishing a good evening before following Spider to the rooftop while holding two hotdogs.

He stood on the rooftop and gave one to Spider, turning away to let them eat without worrying about their identity. He ate and waited until Spider gave him the ok, not wanting to lose their trust and make himself hated like Batman.

He turned around when he heard Spider tell him it was ok to do so, sitting down next to them and staying silent before starting the conversation.

(Red: Superman; Purple: Spider/You)

"Why don't you want to join the Justice League or Batman's team?"

"I work alone, having someone helping me is bothersome and a nuisance"

Superman just looked at the teen, a bit in shock by the way the voice modulator changed their voice so much but especially by how similar they were to Batman in his early days in the Justice League.

It was like seeing a teen clone of Batman, but wearing a more bright suit than the original one. But this time, the theme was spiders and not bats.

He didn't say anything about it tho, not wanting Spider to also hate him. He got up after a bit of them being in silence, knowing he had to go home.

"Well, it was nice to talk to you , hope we can do this again kid" he said, patting Spider on the head before flying away and going back to his family.

(Now it's going back to reader/you pov)

You stared at where Superman left, a bit confused as to why he was interested in you.

You did know that you started to get popular in Gotham, especially when you saw merch of you in small stores.

And yes, you bought something small. It was adorable and you couldn't resist it. No one would judge you, you saw Bruce wearing his own merch or having something with the signature bat symbol.

You shook your head and grabbed your backpack, making one last round to check that everyone was ok before leaving to go back to the manor.

You walked on the side of the villa, making sure to avoid any windows before sneaking inside your room.

You did have a close call when someone suddenly opened their window and smacked your arm, making you give out a small noise since it hurt a bit.

But you thanked whoever was out there that didn't hate you because the one who opened the window was a sleep deprived Tim Drake that just ignored the noise and went back to work.

You sighed in relief when you finally got in your room and took off the voice modulator since it covered most of your mouth and nose, making it a bit annoying to wear at times but you didn't complain.

You almost let out a scream when you finally noticed Alfred sitting on your bed but managed to contain yourself, not wanting to attract anyone to your room and see you wearing Spider's suit.

You took off your mask, knowing it was useless to try and hide your vigilante persona to him, a bit embarrassed that you followed the same path that your legal guardian currently walks on.

You looked down, thinking that Alfred was disappointed or angry that you were also a vigilante, waiting in silence for one of his lectures before flinching when you suddenly felt his hand on your head.

You looked up at him, confused as to why he wasn't angry but just his look of love and adoration he had for you, something you only saw in your mother eyes made you start to shake.

Years of neglect and loneliness just surfaced, making you start to slowly cry and cover your face, trying to hide the fact that you were crying.

But just by hearing Alfred whisper "it's ok, it's just me here, you can let it out" made you break down in tears, full on sobbing and bawling on his chest as you just couldn't hold it in anymore.

You didn't even know why you were crying, but after years of being ignored or hurt by the people you were supposed to call family, watching them enjoy a nice dinner all together without you and especially seeing them being a family while you were just left in the sidelines to never be acknowledged made you finally break.

You cried until you fell asleep in Alfred's arms, you didn't even move when he picked you up like it was nothing and put you in bed.

You also didn't know about the grim look in his face that he had while looking at you, and after he silently left the room you possibly couldn't know the next word he said.

What were those words?

"Maybe it's time I should get involved in this matter, I'm sorry (Y/N) but I can't stand by and watch you become your father. I shall help this family see your worth."

And this is the end for part 3! I managed to finish it in time for new year! If you have questions just ask and I will answer them!

Oh and please stop asking me to tag you, just comment it on the posts and I will tag you! (Oh and if I didn't tag you, it's not because I forgot but because sometimes it doesn't let me tag people)

Tag list

@kiyomi-uchiha777

@cattioo

@dreamsarenicer

@gaozorous-rex-blog

@mfnqueen1

@loserwithnofriends

@ratchetprime211

@mamapucket

@proffesorbunny

@definitely-not-sammie

@wardencatseeyou

@mottysith

@i-never-saw-snow

@mushroomstems

@that-bad-b1tch

@deathbynarcisstick

@readeraona

@sofiaangeldream

@wtvbabes

@missikkkj

@badussyussysstuff

@rainnyydaysworld

@keencoffeefox

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured VII

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: Alexia tries to get her act together

For as long as she will ever live, Alexia will never forget her mother's face that day at Alba's door.

She will never forget the genuine horror on her mother's face even as she took control of the situation. She will never forget that night when Alba slammed her against the wall after the final of the Copa de la Reina. She will never forget the way you hid behind Jenni's legs after your ballet lesson.

It's all she thinks about even as she sits in the rocking chair with a sleeping Jaume in her arms.

"Ale?" Olga says sleepily," It's three in the morning. Come back to bed."

Alexia doesn't want to. She doesn't want to let Jaume go but she doesn't want to look at him either.

He was so perfect. His birth had been quick and easy unlike yours. Alexia had felt an instant connection to him, unlike when she suffered a bought of post-partum depression with you. He was so soft and so perfect and yet...

Alexia couldn't believe that she has pushed you away in favour of him.

She had a beautiful son and daughter. Two children, not one.

She thought having a sibling would be the best thing for you. She wanted to build a family with Olga. She never considered that she hadn't actually included you in that family.

"Alexia," Olga says, a bit more awake now," Come on. He's due for a feed soon. I'd like some sleep before that."

Mechanically, Alexia places her son back in his crib, wiping away some of the drool on his face as she allows Olga to lead her back to bed.

A sense of numbness follows her now and it's clear to everyone.

Word has spread amongst the team now about what has happened. They know the bare minimum, only that Alba took Bambi and that Jenni has dropped everything to fly across the world for you.

No one knows why, officially. It's clear that Mapi and Ingrid have informed a few team members. Paredes, in particular, cannot look Alexia in the eye anymore and some of the younger players are wary seeing that.

Her life is falling apart. She had no idea you were the linchpin holding it all together.

Olga lays next to her, head pillowed on Alexia's chest.

"You're so tense," She says," Relax. Everything's going to be fine."

Alexia scoffs. "Is it?"

Her question hangs in the air for several minutes. Neither of them speak. Neither of them move.

"Yes," Olga says eventually," You need to stay positive, Alexia. If not for yourself then for your daughter-"

"Your daughter?" Alexia echoes Olga's words perfectly," My daughter? Is she not ours?"

The silence is telling and Olga rolls over and away.

"Is she? Jaume is ours. y/n is yours."

Alexia sits up in bed, reaching over to flick a lamp on. This wasn't a conversation she could have in the dark.

"We have a son together. We're going to get married. In what world is Bambi just mine?!"

"In every world!" Olga sits up too. "She has always been yours, Alexia! I am just the woman her Mami is marrying! Nothing more, nothing less!"

"How can you say that?! We're making a family together! Bambi is included in that family!"

"Of course she is but when have I ever taken that role in her life?! You took her to football! You take her to ballet!"

"She stays home with you all day!" Alexia bites back, standing now until they're both yelling at each other over the bed. "You make her lunch! You keep her occupied!"

"And you do her baths and her bedtime routine! You do her morning routine too! God, Alexia, I am essentially her glorified babysitter! You have never once let me take over those things!"

"You didn't ask?! Olga, if you wanted to do that stuff just ask me!"

"And be rejected? No! You've never given any indication that I was even allowed to try!"

"Because I thought you didn't want to! Bambi has always been mine! Forgive me for not knowing how much to put on your plate. I was trying to make this transition easy!"

"An easy transition?! Alexia, I was pregnant! I was already thrown in the deep end! Adding a self-sufficient kid wouldn't have been much worse!"

They're both screaming at each other now and Jaume clearly hears the noise because he cries from down the hall.

Alexia takes a deep breath, eyes shutting briefly as she counts to ten to calm herself.

Olga goes to get Jaume, moving out the door.

"If we're going to get Bambi back," Alexia calls after her," Then we have to both want her!"

The forms about your ballet class lay on the kitchen table when Alexia gets up the next day. Things were frosty last night when Olga came back to bed with Jaume but they seemed to be looking up when Olga said that they would have a mature conversation about the Bambi situation when Alexia got home.

Alexia picks it up as she eats her breakfast, skimming through it. It's for an extra class on Thursday nights (five until seven) on top of your usual ones. Apparently, it's for those little kids that have real potential. As in, the potential to be great.

Alexia had been one of those kids but for football instead of ballet. She had excelled. She was one of the greatest in the world now all because her father saw the potential in her and signed her up for a team.

She had tried to do the same with you. She took you to the under-fives Barcelona team but it hadn't turned out how she want it to. The other children had left you in the dust. Alexia had hoped that it would be a one time thing, that the first session was a fluke.

You were already so different to her and even back then, she knew that when Jaume arrived things would be different.

She'd tried to get you into football so you would have something to bond over together, at least until Jaume was big enough to play with you.

But it wasn't meant to be and her Mama had insisted in signing you up for something else.

Originally, Alexia had planned on it being another team sport, desperate to have something at least similar to football that she could cling to.

Instead, her Mama had reminded her of last Christmas when the family went to go see the Nutcracker and how enamoured you had been.

Ale's Mama had pushed and pushed for ballet and Alexia was glad that she had.

The forms sat signed on the kitchen table as Alexia washed up her bowl and dialled a number on her phone.

"Hola, Mama," She says," It's about Bambi..."

It's after training that Alexia goes to see her Mama and sister. They meet up at Eli's house and all crowd around the kitchen table.

Jenni is there too and when Alexia asks who is looking after you, she's told that Mapi and Ingrid have taken you for ice cream.

"I don't like this," Alba mutters from where she's leaning against the wall. She's the only one not sat, arms crossed over her chest. "How do we know that she's not going to take Bambi home and neglect her again, huh?"

It's the hardest words Alexia has ever had to say but she pushes them out of her mouth. "I don't want you to give me Bambi back, not now at least."

"What do you mean, Alexia?" Her Mama asks.

"I...I have a lot of making up to do," Alexia admits," I broke her trust and that is not an easy thing to get back. If I want Bambi to come home then she has to want it to. I don't want her to be unhappy again."

"What are you saying?"

"Let me visit her, please. Let me earn back her trust, please."

Everyone knows Eli is in charge here. She is the head of the family and everyone defers to her on big decisions like this. This is a family matter. This is about her granddaughter's happiness and her daughter's peace of mind.

"Bambi is very fragile right now," Eli says quietly but the house is so silent everyone can hear her clearly," This is a serious matter, Alexia and if it was anyone else's daughter, child services will have already been called."

Alexia looks down at the table, the same table she would be scolded at when she was young.

"Your father would be ashamed of you." Eli's words are hard and biting and it's exactly what Alexia wants, even if it causes a sharp pain in her chest. "This is not how we raised you. That little girl is so beloved by everyone and what you have done...I love you, Ale, but it is unacceptable."

"I know, Mama. Please, let me make this right."

"Bambi coming home is her choice. It is not a when...it is an if. If I decide that you are doing more harm than good then there will be other actions we can take."

She looks at Jenni, who up until this point has been silent and Alexia's eyes dart to her too.

"Mama, what are you talking about?"

"Eli," Jenni says," She is trying. We don't need to-"

"Jenni still has adoption papers," Alba says from her corner of the room," All they're missing is your signature. Mama is saying that if this cannot be resolved and Bambi doesn't want to come home..."

She lets the idea hang in the air. She doesn't need to say it out loud. They all know what she means.

"It won't get that far," Jenni says, looking at Alexia for the first time since all of this became real," Bambi loves you."

Alexia pushes through the lump in her throat and the tears pricking in her eyes. "If I cannot make this better then she will have the best chance with you."

Jenni looks away first. "She has ballet on Saturday until one. We can do a visit then."

"Thank you."

Olga is sitting with Jaume when Alexia gets home. It's an almost perfect image. All it's missing is you at Olga's feet, playing with your trains.

She can imagine it, your trainsets spread all over the floor and your ballet bag left abandoned on a chair. You will smile when you see her and Alexia will litter your face with kisses before doing the same to Olga and Jaume.

It will be perfect, Alexia promises herself.

"Hey, little man," She coos to her son, hefting him up into her arms and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Jaume giggles at the affection, lips smacking together as his hand whips out to grab at Alexia's nose curiously. He's been a little fussy recently and extremely sensitive to changes in light but he seems a little happier now.

"That's my nose," Alexia says. She wiggles it. "Is it really funny? Huh? Is my nose funny?"

"Jaume seems to think so." Olga rises from the sofa and pecks Alexia's lips. "How was your mother?"

"Helpful."

"And Alba?"

"She was...Alba."

"And Jenni?"

"How did you-?"

"I am not blind or deaf, Ale. Your team gossips. Jenni has comes back to Spain for y/n."

"Amor-"

"I'm not threatened," Olga laughs," You broke up for a reason but even I know that a meeting of y/n would involve her. How was it? What did they say?"

Alexia manages a smile. "I can see her on Saturday, after ballet. There's a place where you can paint pottery nearby. I think I'll take her there."

"That's nice," Olga says.

"I..." Alexia's been floating in a happy bubble ever since she started to drive home. She doesn't want to ruin it but she has to know. "Did you have a think about what we talked about?"

Olga sighs. "I love Jaume," She says after several beats of quiet," Because he is mine, yes, but mostly because he is yours as well. And I love you so much."

Alexia doesn't like where this is going. "And Bambi?"

"I'm sorry, Ale, but I do not love y/n but...I think I could learn to because she is so much like you and I love you. I do not know y/n like I know you and Jaume. I want to though. I want her home with us so I can love her like I love Jaume. I am sorry if it is not what you want to hear but it is my truth and I hope that is enough."

Tears fall down Alexia's cheeks.

"It's enough. It's enough, amor."

Alexia spends all week waiting for Saturday. There are matches to prepare for and media commitments to do but you're all she can think about.

She wonders if she should bring you a new train to mark the occasion but the model train store has finally shut down and Alexia cannot get one for you in time.

Next time though, she promises herself that she'll got you a new train for your collection. Her palms are sweaty and she's nervous when she spots you and Jenni walking down the street hand-in-hand.

You're still in your ballet clothes but you've got one of Jennie's jackets on and it's dragging on the ground behind you because it's too big. Your hair is still done up in a bun and a few wisps fall down to frame your face.

"Bambi," Alexia says, suddenly breathless when you look up at her.

"Hola, Mami," You reply, ducking a little bit behind Jenni as you greet her.

"Your Mami and you are going to paint some pottery," Jenni says," And I'll be right here to pick you up when you're done."

"You won't be late?"

"Of course I won't be! You're my most favourite little girl in the whole wide world! I'd never be late to pick you up!"

You smile and giggle when Jenni peppers kisses all over your face before gently moving you towards Alexia.

"Hola, Mami," You say again.

Alexia smiles and takes your hand. "Hola, Bambi."

You look very nervous and your hand is unusually warm in Alexia's, though she puts that down to you coming straight from ballet.

There's a big wall where you can choose what to make. Alexia gets a mug and, unsurprisingly, you want the train. It's at the very top of the shelf and you can't reach and you don't want Mami to get upset at you for asking when you could easily get something that's closer to your height.

But Alexia notices.

She's making sure to pay a lot of attention to you now. To the way that your ballet pumps are wearing a bit at the soles and the way you play with the sleeves of Jenni's jacket.

"Do you want the train, Bambi?" She asks," Do you want me to pick you up so you can grab it? Can I touch you?"

You nervously nod and Alexia pretends to not notice the way that you don't breath until you're safely back on the ground.

The little shop is quaint and fairly quiet and Alexia lets you choose the table at the very back.

Very gently, she telegraphs her every move to you as she rolls up the sleeves of Jenni's jacket so you don't get paint on it.

You're both quiet as you paint.

Your little tongue is stuck out in concentration as you dip your paintbrush into the paint and move it to cover your train.

"You moved up in ballet," Alexia says eventually," How was that?"

"Was good," Is the response from your tiny voice," It is harder now but still fun." You blink a few times as the overhead light buzzes and you scratch at you neck. It's been a little itchy since you last saw Mami and you don't like.

You haven't told anyone because you're scared they're going to get angry at you. You're a big girl now. Big girl don't complain about something as silly as itchy skin.

"I'm very proud of you," Alexia says," And I'm glad that you're enjoying ballet so much."

Your watery little smile back makes Alexia nearly cry herself. "Really, Mami?"

"Of course. I am so proud of my Bambi. You make me proud everyday."

"Are you sure, Mami?"

"Yes. I am very proud of you."

You sniffle a little and duck your head back down to continue painting. It hurts to move your head though. It's all stiff and tight so you have to hold it at an odd angle so you don't cry - though you're not sure if it's because of the pain or the fact that Mami is acting like this is the Before.

The Mami from the Before never got angry when you asked silly questions. The Mama from the Now got angry at you once when you asked a silly questions when Jaume was crying.

You hope that this Mami won't be mad because you ask a silly question.

"Mami," You ask softly, the memory plaguing you ever since your Jenni returned to you," Jenni says she wanted me when I was little. Did you want me?"

Whatever bubble Alexia was in before pops and it's like icy cold water has been dumped on her.

"What do you mean, Bambi?"

"You and Miss Olga wanted Jaume," You say," And my Jenni says she wanted me. Did you want me too?"

"Bambi..." Alexia doesn't want to think about those first few months of having you. The post-partum depression had hit hard and Alexia could do little but deal with yours and hers basic needs.

She had loved you and resented you all at the same time and the guilt had weighed on her for months.

"I always want you."

You shake your head before wincing and returning your head back to its awkward resting position. "But did you want me then? When I was little like Baby Jaume and when I was in your belly?"

Alexia moves from her chair to kneel in front of you. Her hand comes up to cradle you. Either her hands are big or your face is tiny because they cover your entire cheek.

"I love you," Alexia says," You're my Bambi and I've always loved you."

"But did you want me?"

"Bambi..."

"Mami...Mami, I..."

Alexia doesn't want to lie but she also doesn't want to tell you either. There were moments, that first week she found out she was pregnant when she didn't want you. She hadn't been overjoyed at the prospective of you. She hadn't wanted her career to be derailed by something as silly as a child.

She doesn't want to tell you the truth because she knows that it will be damaging to you. You're not old enough to be told things like this. You're not mature enough to be told this kind of information and not have it linger and fester within you for years.

But Alexia's always valued honesty. She doesn't like lying but she had lied to you all your life. She doesn't want to lie again now even if it's about something like this. Adults cannot fault other adults for telling their truth but you are neither an adult nor can you understand what this means for you.

"I want you now," Alexia says instead," I want you when I go to bed every night. I want you when I wake up every morning. I want you when I score a goal and when I win trophies. I want you, Bambi."

You sniffle and scratch more insistently at your skin, your wrists this time.

"I miss you sometimes, Mami," You say," But coming back to your house is scary."

"Thank you for being honest, Bambi. You don't have to come home if you don't want to." Alexia forces down tears. "When I next see you, we should go and see Abuela and we'll explain things to you, okay?"

"Okay, Mami."

"Is your train done?"

Your train actually is done so Mami gives it and her mug to the lady who works there to finish off and you both walk outside.

"They should be done in a few days," Mami tells you," And then when I next see you, I'll give you your new train."

"Okay, Mami." Her hand is in yours and you think that is enough for today, pulling your hand away as Jenni turns the corner and lets you run to her.

"Hey," She laughs, swinging you up into her arms," How did it go? Was it fun?"

You don't answer, burying your face into Jenni's neck.

"I..." Alexia says," I think next time when should go to my Mama's...Conversations are...difficult sometimes."

Jenni nods. "I see," She says," Next week, maybe?"

The words are complete autopilot. Alexia hates what she's said the moment they're out of her mouth but they're completely out of habit and she doesn't even think before she speaks.

"We'll see," She says," I'll have to check my schedule." She clamps her mouth shut the moment she says them. "I mean- No, I meant-"

You look resigned, like you are so used to this that it barely effects you but Jenni looks furious. She hefts you up higher in her arms.

"Say goodbye to your Mami, Bambi."

"Bye, Mami."

"Hey...Wait, no, Jenni. I didn't mean-"

"Bambi needs to have a nap," Jenni says," She takes one right after ballet. We changed her schedule for painting today. I should get her home."

Alexia wilts, slouching her shoulders and curling in on herself. "Adios, Bambi. I love you!"

Jenni is already walking around and you don't offer your own I love you in return.

Jenni's steady steps feel nice as she walks you back to Tia Alba's. Your itchiness increases and you scratch more harshly at your neck.

"Ma-Jenni?"

"Yes, Bambi?"

"Can we have cuddles tonight?"

"Of course we can. I love cuddles with my favourite little girl. Are we having them on the sofa after bathtime or in bed together?"

Before Ma-Jenni came home, you slept with your Tia Alba. Now you sleep in the same bed as Ma-Jenni. She's big and strong and she holds you just right. She doesn't let you go the whole night. You go to sleep in her arms and you wake up in her arms.

"Bed cuddles please."

"I love bed cuddles."

You grin. "I love bed cuddles too!"

You scratch at your neck again and Jenni gently pulls your hand away. She frowns, swiping at your skin with her thumb a few times.

"You've got a bit of a rash there, Bambi," She says," We'll have to keep an eye on that."

[whateversawesome]

Some Theories about Anya's Name

Who would have thought a short chapter would bring so much information and discussion? But then again, we're talking about Anya, agent of chaos (according to her papa).

After that chapter, there's plenty of theories flying around, so I decided to make this post to compile, explain and expand these theories 😉

Ready?

Anya is an acronym: This one is pretty clear has been a popular general theory. It means that the letters of her name stand for something else. What exactly? We don't know yet, but it probably has to do with Project Apple and the infamous lab Anya was created.

Anya...Ania...OstANIA: If you live near small children, you probably know that when they are learning how to talk, they do it by picking up words adults say and many times they say those words wrong. While discussing with some friends, I imagined those scientists constantly saying the word Ostania in front of that little girl. Maybe baby Anya thought that was her name because she heard the word OstANIA all the time, but she couldn't say it right.

Anya, the foreign princess: This one is very simple. It means that her name was spelled differently in her country of origin. This theory is vague, but I do believe a third country could be involved in all this mess. Also, it would make sense for Anya to be hiding in Ostania, if she was born and kept captive in a different country.

Anya...A N/A: This one is one of the most interesting theories! A N/A would mean something like "Non-applicable". You probably think this doesn't say much, but it really does. In the first few chapters of the story we learned that Anya was adopted and returned 4 times. Instead of a child, she was returned as if she was a piece of clothing. Even though it's been barely mentioned, we've also learned that people that participated in Project Apple didn't treat the subjects nicely (see how they treated Bond). Those people called Anya "subject 007". They didn't even give her a name. If we think about it, Anya is very "non-applicable". She was created in a lab, she has a strange power, so she's not like the other kids, she's been adopted and returned 4 times...

The A N/A and Anya being treated like an object instead of a human being fits the Spy x Family premise of the story, which is: Humans like Twilight, Yor, and Anya are used as weapons instead of being treated like humans. The story is about them regaining their humanity through love and family.

So even if A N/A says nothing about Anya, it says a lot about the story.

Look at this little girl. This illustration was heartbreaking. Do you know when it takes place? It's right before he meets Twilight. We see that it's the same filthy orphanage Twilight visited on chapter 1 and this is not Anya's first orphanage, so that means this illustration happened after she was returned again. The way she's facing the door, her body language, the way she holds Mr. Chimera by the hand is so sad. Here she is, once again, in a place she doesn't want to be, where nobody will take care of her...alone 😭

Enough of that or we'll end up crying...🤧

Some other things to take into consideration about her name:

Mr. Chimera: Since this is a visual story, that panel of Mr. Chimera tells us that this plushie is involved in Anya's name. If you've read certain fic, you know where I stand on that. In this case, I think that yes, the person who helped Anya escape gave Mr. Chimera to her. However, I don't think it was exactly that character (you know who). It probably was someone else, maybe even a new character we don't know yet. It could also be a scientist who took pity on Anya or disagreed with the use of children as lab rats, and helped her escape. We don't know yet.

Twilight: One of the most beautiful panels on that short chapter was seeing Anya's eyes lit up when her papa told her the correct spelling of her name. Did you see it? Those were the eyes of someone who had just learned something new about herself and by doing this, Twilight made her even more human.

One more thing...I've seen speculations about the next arc of the manga being about Anya's past because of this short mission. In my opinion...I don't think it'll happen yet. Why? If it was the case, this would have been a longer chapter and the actual beginning of the arc.

I believe Anya's past will be one of the last things we learn, because there's plenty of things to resolve and a lot of information we don't have. Stories are like puzzles; this chapter was an important piece, but we're not working on that part yet.

[reallyromealone]

Title: fated

Chapter: two

Fandom: JJK

Characters: Gojo, Geto, unimportant ocs

Fic type: series

Pairings: Gojo x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, Omega male reader, angst

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Gojo had been staying with (name) for a week at this point, (name) going about his day of without any care and honestly ignoring him half the time.

Gojo was still his... Gojo self.

(Name) Was watching his dramas on the couch as he made little plush toys for the neighborhood children, Gojo had gone out to do whatever... Frankly (name) didn't care and if Gojo didn't have the power to blast off the hinges of his door, he would have changed the locks.

Gojo had Geto send him a copy of (name)s information, everything about the Omega, hobbies and interests though Gojo ignored those as they seemed to be generic Omega things to make the thorn bush that was (name) seem more delicate.

(Name) Was interesting though from the other things Geto gathered for him, and something deeply interesting.

He wasnt blood related to the (lastname) clan...

He was a descendant of a notable figure.

Sakuna.

That would explain his defiant nature.

And then came his abilities...

Jesus fuck.

At that moment, Gojo knew why they were destined to be together.

If given proper training, (name) would be an unstoppable force and it made sense on why he was the diamond of his clan as Gojo was the gift of the heavens of his clan.

Their offspring would be a monster of power.

(Name) Was asleep when Gojo came back, the tv playing a drama as the Omega slept on the couch, curled up and cozy as a few crochet plushies scattered around him. Gojo felt the urge to protect but... He didn't feel love, he was always told that when you met your soulmate you would feel endless love but he just felt... Calm.

Like he did with Geto.

Carefully he lifted (name) and brought him to his bed, tucking him in.

He would learn to love (name) as his omega and (name) as his alpha...

"Work?" Gojo asked confused and (name) nodded with a yawn "of course, what do you think I sit on my ass all day?" Yup he could definitely see how he was descendants to Sakuna now, the white haired man chuckling at his omegas attitude, he definitely wasn't some weak Omega.

Gojo knew he would have to leave soon, he had work to do after all.

But he would be back, he had to come back for his mate after all.

They both had roles to play.

Gojo noticed that (name) always read slower, more intensely "oh.... They didn't see a purpose of having me learn too much, better a pretty Omega than one who could make their alpha look inferior" Gojo with his new knowledge of (name) knew that wasn't the full truth, they kept (name) dumb so that he couldn't be a threat like Gojo was.

"I have to go back to Tokyo tomorrow..." Gojo started and (name) looked up from his dinner "hm? Finally gave up?" He asked calmly and Gojo snorted "I don't give up, I just have to take care of stuff" he said simply and (name) rolled his eyes "it would be easier if you came with"

"Absolutely not" (name) didn't even hesitate to shoot that down, as he glared at Gojo "don't feel like you need to rush back" (name) said with a bland tone as he sipped his drink "ill be sure to come back as soon as possible " Gojo fired back as blue locked with (color) and the two glared at one another.

It took a month and a half till Gojo returned "what is this? You moving into the village or something?" (Name) Asked at all the bags and boxes that sat on his engawa "nah, Geto told me courting gifts are important" Gojo said and (name) looked a mix of annoyed and disgusted "you don't need to do that"

"But I want to"

(Name) Wanted to slap him, the audacity of this man.

Alphas were really shameless.

(Name) Barely glanced at the pile of gifts in his livingroom as Gojo made himself comfortable "so ya miss me while I was gone?"

"No" (name) said simply as he sipped his drink, already feeling a headache form in the front of his skull at the other "the house smells sweeter, you get a new air freshener or something " Gojo tried making small talk and (name) wasn't too interested "no that's just post heat smell, sticks on the walls for a while" this made Gojo freeze "your heat?" When was this?!

"Yeah, it ended the other day" (name) said like it was just talk about the weather, deciding to work on his crossword puzzle that was sitting on the corner of the table "why didn't you call me?" Gojo asked incredulously and (name) glanced up and glared "why would I call you?"

"Because I'm your alpha!"

"But you aren't" (name) argued and Gojo seethed, his Infinity getting a bit stronger and (name) was pushed back a bit, a slight look of fear on his face was enough to snap him out of it and a guilty look on his face "shit, I'm sorry" he was already fucking up even more and it hadn't even been an hour! (Name) Letting distressed pharamones slip out as he whispered "you make no attempts to be my alpha, ignore me for years and then you come into my life and make demands and claims... Then you use your strength the intimidate me... You are no different than the ones I grew up around" (name)a words were like a hot knife as he curled into himself.

(Name) Went about his day as if Gojo didn't exist, the Alpha having the decency of getting a room at the local inn though it was obvious Gojo didn't exactly want to do so but after the stunt he just pulled it was the smartest choice.

Though that didn't stop him from being excessive and clingy.

"Maybe we could go on a date tonight, what is there in this town anyways?" Gojo followed (name) around at work and the Omega was deeply embarrassed as people stared and whispered "can you not bother me while I'm at work?"

"I just wanna see what my omega is up to"

"Not your omega"

"Not yet"

"(Name)?" A voice called as Gojo was a bit annoyed that (name)s attention left him to some beta man who was the embodiment of the annoying boy next door trope "oh kei, is school out already?" (Name) Checked his watch and it was already 5pm, the store would be closed soon "yeah, gave the kids some fun in the sun before school let out... It's a nice day and all" he joked as Gojo dead stared him from behind (name) who paid no mind "that's great! It's too good of day to waste truly"

"Whose this?" Kei asked and looked at Gojo with a stupid smile that made the white haired man feel the urge to turn him into a fine mist.

There was barely any cursed energy in him, both Gojo and (name) combined had enough cursed energy to keep japan lit for a generation! He was weak, the lowest level scum cursed spirit could take him down!

"He's a creep who won't leave me alone" (name) said blandly and Gojo scoffed "Gojo Satoru, his fiance"

"Not my fiance"

"Not with that attitude" Gojo fired back and the school teacher looked between them confused before smiling "well it's nice to meet you Gojo! I'm Sato Kei!" He was inconsequential to Gojo, offering his hand to him but if he was to get closer to (name) he would need to get close to his friends.

"Pleasure to meet you" (name) huffed as they interacted but decided to take the time to return to his shift and shake the tick that was Gojo off him.

Gojo should had known it wouldn't be complete smooth sailing while he was here...

"It's always schools.." he whispered as he adjusted his eye cover and walked to the building where a cursed spirit resided, he just hoped he could finish the job fast.

Gojo didn't have a lot of empathy to those weaker to him, he didn't care about them.

But he did care about his omega, even if he didn't get why he did.

And telling (name) that his beta friend was dead... He never wanted to see (name) cry like that again.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

I am Sage's mother, better known as Nana. I adopted Sage after my son died when she was still a baby. She's been through six foster homes by then, but we loved her and she blossomed into a joyful, lively girl who made music and art.

Puberty began and COVID hit, and she was treated for depression and anxiety, at times very severe. Her teachers shared any concerns with me so her treatment could be adapted.

The transparency ended in August of 2021 when Sage started high school. She started a public high school and she told me that all the girls there were bi, trans, lesbian, emo and she wanted to wear boy's clothes and be emo. Because I saw it as just a phase, it was fine with me.

But at school, she told them something different: she was now a boy named Draco with male pronouns. Sage asked the school not to tell me, and they did not tell me even though I informed them of her mental health history and medication. If I had known, this would be a much different story.

She was terribly bullied. No one told me. But boys followed her, touched her, threatened violence and rape. Something happened in the boy's bathroom but for two days, the school told me nothing. They kept meeting with Sage alone and she became so distraught they called me to pick her up.

That evening, I found a hallpass labeled 'Draco' and Sage told me she was identifying as a boy, and that her counselor said she could use the boy's bathroom. She'd been jacked up against the wall by a group of boys. She was crying, terrified. I said just stay home, we'll figure it out. That was my last conversation with Sage for five months.

The night she ran, she thought, to a young friend she'd met online, she left a note saying she was scared of what would happen if she stayed. The sheriff, FBI, search dogs were called in. I dropped to my knees in prayer. Nine days later the FBI found her in Baltimore. My baby had been lured online, sex trafficked by DC then Maryland. She was locked in a room, drugged, gang raped and brutalized by countless men. It was night. The FBI told us to pick her up in Maryland the next morning.

We packed our cars with blankets and stuffed animals and arrived by 8 am, but we were told we couldn't see her, and were summoned before Judge Robert Kershaw late that afternoon. They didn't even tell Sage that we came for her. We finally entered the courtroom and Sage appears on a huge Zoom screen from a prison cell. She looks tiny and broken, and I cry out 'I love you Sage.' Sage responds 'I love you too, Nana.' But attorney Anisa Khan rebukes us. She is a 'he' and his name is 'Draco' not Sage. We were floored.

Khan accuses us of emotional and physical abuse, that we are misgendering her, even though we just learned she claims to be trans and we're willing to use any name and pronouns to bring her home. My husband was so tearful he kept forgetting the new pronouns, so the judge had the bailiff remove him from the courtroom. I was pleading for my child to be returned and treated for her unspeakable trauma. Judge Kershaw told me, if I use the word 'trauma' again, he would throw me out too.

For over two months, he withheld custody. He housed Sage in the male quarters of a children's home. Sage told me she was the only girl and repeatedly assaulted. She was given street drugs by the other kids and Khan told her she didn't care. She just wanted to win the case and all the way to the Supreme Court if necessary. Khan tried to prove abuse, but we were eventually cleared by both states of all charges.

Sage later told me Khan had told her to lie that we hit her. Khan even had Sage's school counselors testify against us, though they barely knew Sage and they didn't know us at all. Khan told my precious child I didn't want her anymore. I found out Sage never received any of the letters I sent her.

Sage ran from the Children's Home and disappeared for months. They told me she might already be gone forever, but I couldn't give up and I finally found a tip on her social media that led the marshals to her in Texas. She had been drugged, raped, beaten and exploited. This time I was able to be with her for the traumatic rape exam, and to bring her home.

Back in Virginia, she entered the mental health facility that Judge Kershaw had ordered, as it would affirm her as a male. The therapist began pressuring her to have her healthy breasts removed. Sage was too scared to protest, but she asked me to secretly buy her girl's clothes because she wanted to be a girl, but keep them in the car. It took a kind lawyer, Josh Hetzler to secure her discharge.

After almost a year. Sage was finally home. Safe. Alive. Sage is receiving professional trauma care. The first trafficker has already been convicted. Sage has nightmares, panic attacks, rape-related medical issues, but there's hope. I tell her she's not broken she's just scarred. And part of that hope is that in courageously sharing her story, others will be saved.

Sage said she doesn't know who she was back then. She wasn't a boy, she just wanted to have friends. But her school, the judge, the attorney and the doctor were all blinded by their ideology. The consequences for Sage were unspeakable.

Please don't let ideology harm another child. Let parents do our jobs. We know our children best and we love them a million times more.

Thank you.

==

Jesus Christ. This girl was exploited by everybody, except for her parents, who were villainized for literally nothing. It's opposite world.

And the fact that everybody with authority prioritized stupid shit like pronouns and trying to coax her further down into a fake identity, even against her will, and other ideological bullshit over her actual wellbeing is disgraceful.

The judge and attorney need to be disbarred, the therapist stripped of their license, and everyone who conspired to separate Sage from her parents fired.

[confused-pyramid]

Coming Up For Air | s1

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, slow slow slow burn, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 1x01, 1x06, 1x07, 1x08, 1x15, 1x16, and 1x22

a/n: I started rewatching Criminal Minds from the beginning, and this is what came out of it heh. This is the first part in a little series I'm starting that follows Hotch and his childhood best friend in the BAU, beginning with the pilot. If all goes well, this will continue through the rest of the show, with ~1 part per season :) Title is from Coming up for air by Signals in Smoke

series masterlist

You haven't used your oven in over a year. It's not that you don't like cooking - because you do - you just haven't had the time. If you could, you would blame it on the extra hours you have had to put in after starting at the BAU, but that wouldn't be fair. Your transfer to the unit was the only thing that got you through his death at all.

After your husband was shot and killed in action while tailing a kingpin of one of the New York mobs, you couldn't bear to be in this house at all. You had gone back home to stay with your father for a couple of months, but eventually you had to get back to your real life. With a month remaining on your bureau-mandated leave, you returned to the home you had shared, before one of the lower-level mob soldiers misfired -

You didn't let yourself think about it for almost a year, but time heals all wounds. The poets were right. At least you hope they are.

Even back at home, you still couldn't bear to be there alone, other than when you were sleeping. That's why your peloton was gathering dust and your kitchen went untouched, until just now.

So, of course, the call from the office comes when you're making dinner. It takes five minutes to change into slacks and a button-up, and two more to toss your half-cooked vegetables in the trash, before driving down to headquarters.

A fourth girl has been taken in Seattle, and the local PD only now decided to invite your team. You know the BAU isn't well-liked by the other departments, but that doesn't mean you aren't effective.

When you enter the building, you rush through the I.D. check and jog over to the lecture hall, where Morgan and Reid are standing outside of a neighboring office like children waiting for their father to come and get them.

Shooting them both a thin-lipped smile, you step inside just as they finish discussing the unsub's pattern.

"They want you back in the saddle," Hotch says to the man beside him after greeting you with a nod.

Your eyes are so immediately drawn to Hotch that it takes you a moment to realize that you recognize the man standing next to him. You haven't seen him since the day you were assigned to the BAU, mostly because you were technically transferred to this unit because of his extended leave.

What was supposed to be one month became six, before Hotch informed you that your temporary placement would be permanent, if you were willing to stay in Virginia.

It was a no-brainer.

You turn your gaze to Jason Gideon as everyone in the room stares at him expectantly. He looks self-assured, but you're sure the confidence is a front. "They sure they want me?"

"The order came from the director," Hotch says simply.

"Well," Gideon states, "we'd better get started, then."

Hotch glances over at you as everyone files out of the room and you raise your eyebrows momentarily, a quick check-in between the two of you. He nods imperceptibly and it's enough for now. He didn't tell you Gideon was coming back today, but now isn't the time to give him hell for that.

***

Hotch is the last to board the plane, and he takes his usual seat beside you, this time in the aisle, a few rows away from the rest of the team.

"I was going to tell you," he says as soon as you close the case file in your hands. "The section chief wants me to evaluate him to see if he's ready to return to the team."

"That's a lot of pressure." They have to know that Gideon will be able to smell him out within the day. "You sure it won't get in the way?"

Hotch makes that face you hate, the one that says he knows you're deflecting. "I was going to tell you."

It doesn't take much for you to forgive him. It helps that you trust him completely, especially after everything he has done for you.

"Still," you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours, "it would have been nice to know about the sudden change to my job security."

You're mostly joking, but his frown is genuine. "Don't be silly. You'll always have a place on this team."

He takes everything so seriously these days. You suppose it's only fair, given the files he has to sort through on a daily basis. Picking which case deserves the team's attention the most.

But he wasn't always like this. You're the newest member of the team, but you've known Hotch longer than any of them.

You still remember the first time you met him, at eight years old. He was your first real friend at school, and you became inseparable easily. Your shared love for The Beatles and Law and Order made you fast friends, and as you grew older, your interests shifted in tandem.

Sometimes when you look at him, you still see that little boy who knew too much, but still managed to always make you laugh.

***

The team disperses soon after you land in Seattle. You've never had to come up with a profile in one afternoon, but it's also been a long time since your ticking clock to find the victim was just over a day.

When Gideon and Morgan head to the latest crime scene, you join Hotch and Reid to interview the victim's brother. The moment the three of you step into his house, his dog, Sandy, starts barking up a storm.

"It's what we call the Reid effect," Hotch smiles, walking over to pet her. "Happens with children, too."

You can't help but smile as well, peering over at Spencer, who looks about as uncomfortable as he usually does.

It doesn't escape your notice that the brother looks looser now. Hotch has a way with people that traces back to his childhood self. He was always wiser than his years, something you chalk up to his need to grow up faster than he should have, but his paternal instinct comes from practically raising his brother, Sean, after his dad's untimely death.

The casual interview reveals enough about the victimology that when you head back to the station, Gideon calls the officers in to explain the profile.

You can feel Morgan's agitation wafting off of him as he watches Gideon state his assumptions with startling clarity and confidence. Hotch, on the other hand, looks contemplative, which reminds you that he's been tasked with the returning agent's evaluation.

He can see your furtive glances in his direction, even as you try to remain secretive about your interest in his demeanor. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling as he thinks about how lucky you are that you went into profiling and not covert operations.

You have never been especially good at keeping your own thoughts or intentions to yourself around him. While some would call that a weakness in this field, he sees it as your greatest strength, because it clearly shows how much he can trust you.

As a kid, you were outspoken about every idea you had, and you used your strength and willpower to look out for him when he needed it. It took him a long time to admit how much he used to need you (maybe too long), but you always knew.

***

Gideon's profile leads to the arrest of Richard Slessman and Tim Vogel, and Elle manages to save the last girl while she's still alive. You catch your breath for the first time in 36 hours as you stand with Hotch in the shipyard, watching the paramedics and local police clear the scene.

"What are you going to tell them?" you ask under your breath as his gaze turns to Gideon, who is getting patched up in the back of an ambulance.

He had goaded the unsub into shooting him instead of the girl, but your mind can't seem to focus on the silver lining.

Hotch sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, as though to hold his coat closed against the breeze. "They want to know if he's fit to be a field agent again."

Normally, you would give him shit for using that tactic. Avoiding a question by providing more information. This time, you know he's just thinking out loud.

"What would you say?" Hotch asks as Morgan walks over and sits on a barrel next to you.

"Gideon saved her life," Derek shrugs, his eyes flashing to you for a moment. "That's good enough for me."

Hotch seems to ponder this for a second. "Do you know what Gideon means in Hebrew?"

"Mighty warrior," Reid interjects, popping in to the conversation with the subtlety of a tiger.

You're confused at first, but then you remember the baby names book that was sitting in Hotch's living room the last time you visited him. "You cannot let Haley name your child Gideon."

Hotch laughs suddenly, and you can tell you surprised it out of him. Your chest warms comfortably as he smiles, his cheeks flushing softly in the chill air.

He looks over at Gideon again, deciding in real time that he's going to recommend him to come back to the team. He would never admit it to you or anyone, but he knows that if your position on the team was in jeopardy from Gideon's return, he wouldn't have been able to complete his evaluation fairly.

It was Hotch who recommended you for the open position after he was promoted into Gideon's role as unit chief. You deserved the spot, of course, but Jeff's death had still been fresh and he knew better than most how much the job can take one's mind off of the other aspects of their life.

While Hotch watches Gideon, you watch him. You can tell from the look on his face that it's a done deal. Jason's coming back to the team. It will be a change of pace for everyone, but that doesn't mean it won't be good.

Having joined the team right after the bombing, you saw exactly how Gideon changed after getting the profile wrong, but so did everyone else. What people didn't talk about was how Aaron changed too. Rising into the rank. Growing to fill the hole that Gideon left in the unit, but somehow also shrinking into himself at the same time, because that's what this job does to you...it takes and it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give.

But sometimes that's what you need: to give something up so you know you aren't losing everything.

***

Gideon settles into the team faster than you anticipated, and soon it's almost like he never left. Even though you can see the vein on Morgan's neck pulsate every time he hijacks a profile, you can't help but appreciate the support he gives to Spencer and Elle, both of whom are becoming incredible profilers before your very eyes.

That's also why you find yourself a little worried when Hotch tells you that Reid failed his weapons recertification.

"I thought you said you were helping him practice," you say as the two of you walk past security and toward the bullpen.

"I was," he emphasizes, before correcting himself, "I did. I'm sure he was just nervous."

You nod, pushing open the doors and spotting Reid sitting quietly at his desk. "He can test again in two weeks. He'll be fine."

When Morgan hands him a whistle with a quippy joke, you sigh into your coffee tumbler, but don't bother stepping in. He's being childish, but if you try to intervene, it'll just embarrass Spencer more.

"Okay," JJ starts, "Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon."

She dives into the case, but you have already read the file (and you know Reid has too) so you scoot your chair over to his desk and lean forward so only he can hear you. "I failed my first weapons certification at the bureau too."

Spencer looks up immediately, his face colored with surprise. "Really? You're one of the best shots I know."

You smile with a shrug. "The tests aren't real life. When it comes down to it, I get the job done. Just like you will."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but then his lips curve up into a small smile. You both turn your attention back to the front just as JJ finishes explaining the case details.

"Wheels up in 30."

The flight to Illinois is filled with heated discussions about the bureau's fruitless history of trying to profile long distance serial killers.

"L. D. S. K.s are so rare, we haven't been able to build a standard profile," Hotch explains as the jet reaches cruising altitude.

Gideon chimes in immediately. "Here's what we do know: they're always male, and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

Elle looks confused and you echo her sentiment as you lean your hip against her armrest. "To take credit or relive the experience?"

"Both," he says simply. "All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have."

"Our unsub hasn't contacted anybody," you point out. "What do we do until then?"

"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do."

Reid glances up from the file in his lap, and you notice that he looks at Gideon first. "He doesn't kill his victims."

"Underkill's a unique signature," Hotch ponders, standing up and walking along the cabin. He only paces when he's deep in thought. "The question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target?"

The team is silent as you take in this new analysis. You're not surprised when Gideon is the first to speak up. "Specifically, does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?"

When the plane lands, you check out the last crime scene before spending the day talking to the local police and the victims' surgeons at the nearby hospital.

That night, when you check into your hotel room, the click of the door lock closing behind you is a welcome relief from the tension of the day. Many of the Des Plaines police officers were unhappy with the team's initial assessment, because it heavily implied that the unsub may have been a law enforcement official himself.

You wash your face and change into a tee shirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants, before climbing into bed and opening the case file back up again. The rest of the team has also gone to their own rooms, but you can't help but wish you had another set of eyes looking at this with you.

As though reading your mind, a knock thuds on your door and you stand up quickly, in case it's an emergency. When you check the peephole, you see Hotch standing way too close to the door.

Unlocking it slowly so you don't startle him, you open the door to find him in still in a full suit.

"Is there a problem?" you ask immediately. "Do I need to get dressed?"

He shakes his head, glancing around the hallway so quickly that you almost miss it. "I was just looking over the profile and I wanted your opinion on some thoughts I had."

The corner of your mouth twitches and you open the door further to let him in. He doesn't miss a beat as he takes a seat on the armchair in front of your bed and flips open his notepad.

"I was thinking about the bullet we recovered on the scene," he says slowly, like he's thinking through every word he's saying.

You nod, sitting on top of the bed covers and crossing your legs under you. "Garcia called after you left the station. The bullet was a .223 fired from the M-4 variant of the M-16."

"That means he's military," Hotch says, reaching his hand out without taking his eyes off his notepad. You close the case file you had laid out and hand it to him. "M-4 is a shorter barrel than the M-16, so it's less accurate and a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances."

"This level of skill indicates specialized training. That means..."

"It means the underkill was on purpose," Hotch says, finishing your thought. "What is he trying to prove?"

You purse your lips as he sits up in the chair to give himself room to remove his jacket. His pinstriped button-down is slightly crinkled under his arms, but you can tell it was freshly ironed this morning.

"Maybe he's in a fast-paced occupation," you suggest, "which would fit with the profile that he has a big ego."

"Then we're back to law enforcement."

You lean forward, your eyes following his hands as they fidget with his cuffs and undo the buttons, one at a time. You've always been attune to every one of his movements, but maybe it's just because you've spent so much time around him.

"Hotch," you whisper-yell, snagging his attention from your case file, which he tosses back to you.

He hums and you take that as an invitation to continue speaking. "Be careful tomorrow, when you're giving the profile."

One of his eyebrows lifts and you can tell he's holding back a smile. "It's just in front of the Des Planes PD. You'll be there too."

"It's not that," you sigh, shaking your head. "Everything about this profile points to the shooter being either current or former law enforcement. I'd be surprised if they didn't take it personally."

His eyes flit up to yours, his brow furrowing. "I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can, Hotch," you say with a breathy laugh. "Doesn't mean I don't still look out for you."

He pauses and it's like his whole body takes a beat. "I know."

***

You're talking to Dr. Landman with Derek, Elle, and Jason the next day when a gunshot rings out through the hospital. Last you checked, Hotch and Reid were in the E.R., but you haven't heard from them since you arrived.

"It's Phillip Dowd," a nurse informs you when you meet with local police outside the closed E.R. door.

After a quick call to Penelope, the profile becomes clear.

"He joined the army at 18," Gideon recites, pacing around the room in a vaguely reminiscent manner, "went to ranger school, did 6 years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it, joined the Arlington P. D."

"You were right," the police captain sighs. "He was a cop."

His hopeless tone is disheartening, and you find yourself upset for not the first time that your team was correct in their assessment.

After the initial commotion, the E.R. is silent except for a few muffled voices. You can't hear what's being said, but the lack of gunshots or loud noises is all that's keeping you from falling apart.

"It'll be okay," you hear whispered from next to you. You turn to see Derek, who presses his shoulder to yours briefly. "Hotch will know what to do."

You know there's nothing you can do from out here, especially with how precarious the situation inside is, but doing nothing has never been your strong suit.

"I know," you tell him, echoing your thoughts. "I just wish we could help."

Derek cocks his head at the S.W.A.T. team readying themselves to break the door down. "We can help. We need to give Hotch and the kid time to wear Dowd down."

His tone is light and you feel yourself laugh, ignoring the thickness that swells in your throat. "That shouldn't take long."

Derek bumps your arm again in a silent extension of comfort, and you mouth a silent thank you.

You can feel Gideon losing patience as he reasons with the captain, but he eventually buys them three minutes to do what they can. When the final five second countdown starts, you unconsciously hold your breath, only to be released when Hotch's voice calls through the door.

"Hold your fire!"

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you squeeze Derek's arm before rushing forward. Hotch stumbles past you with a murmur that sounds obscurely like "help Reid", so you push your way through the throng of civilians moving to escape until you see him.

"Spencer," you gasp, crouching down to help him into a standing position. You would never admit it to him, but ever since he joined the team, he's been something of a little brother to you. "What happened in here? Are you okay?"

"You were right," he says with a surprising steadiness to his voice. "I got the job done."

You don't ask what he means, knowing that Hotch will fill you in when the time is right. Instead, you decide not to fight the vaguely maternal urge rising within you and you pull him into a tight hug. It's more of a quick squeeze, because you don't want to push past his physical boundaries, but he doesn't complain, instead looking over at you with a small smile that's more than enough for now.

***

You find Hotch where the departed ambulance that patched Reid up was parked. All of the hustle and bustle of the paramedics and local police officers and bureau agents comes to a standstill as you walk over to where he's sitting on the edge of the curb.

"I heard what happened," you say as a way to announce your presence. "Can I sit?"

He nods without looking up, and you crouch down next to him, settling on the curb with your shoulder pressed to his. You can feel the tension in his muscles as he grips the sidewalk, his palms digging into the concrete like he could break through if he pressed hard enough. "Reid.."

"..is fine," you whisper, nudging him so he looks up to where Spencer and Jason are chattering excitedly. "He's more proud than anything."

He doesn't say anything, so you bump your knee against his. "I guess all of the physical training classes you made him take at the academy paid off."

He knows you know exactly what is running through his mind, so he doesn't bother trying to articulate it. Instead, he lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and looks over at you. "Do you remember that self-defense class we took before law school?"

You're not expecting this question, and you almost laugh. "You mean the singular self-defense class you dragged me to before dawn in the summer before we started at Georgetown?"

He levels you with a look that you would think is serious if you didn't know him so well. "You don't regret it, though."

"No," you smile, your eyes blurring with emotion. That's where you met Jeff. "I don't."

He was your instructor that day. He only taught that class twice a week, between lectures at Georgetown Law, and it doesn't escape your mind that you so easily could've missed him. One day earlier or later and you never would've met him, never would've been his girlfriend, or his wife, or his widow.

Hotch remembers meeting him that day too. He had to literally come to your apartment and drag you out of bed to make the seven AM class that he had signed you both up for, and you had been grumpy the whole drive over.

There wasn't much, other than coffee, that could get you alert before eight in the morning, but the moment you walked into that gym, it was like you were wide awake. He spent the rest of the class trying not to look as the man he would later come to know as Agent Adler kept coming over to give you extra pointers, and he pretended that the coil of ice slithering up his spine was there just because he was watching out for you.

When he found out the two of you had started dating, he continued to pretend the nausea rising in his stomach was from the day-old sandwich he had had for lunch, because it wasn't fair. Especially since he was with Haley, and he was happier than he had ever been, even if the new law school course load was making it harder to see her as often as he wanted to.

But eventually, your happiness with him overpowered every protective urge he felt, and he realized that even if there was a feeling in his gut that he didn't recognize when he saw you two together, Jeff was perfectly suited for you.

***

"He's so gorgeous!" JJ coos, her hands twitching at her sides like she's trying not to reach forward and take the baby out of Haley's hands.

She brought Jack, their newborn son, in to work today to show the team, and Hotch looks prouder than you've ever seen him. "Thank you."

"If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive."

"Reid!" you chastise, swatting at him. He dodges your hands without even looking.

"Look at his widdy biddy nose," Garcia squeals, before turning to Morgan with an inquisitive look. "Don't you want one of these?"

He just laughs as he rests his chin on her shoulder. "Mm, I'll stick to practicing."

"Congratulations," Elle chimes in before returning to Gideon's side to continue discussing the new case that came in. She's always on top of things, and it's something you respect greatly about her.

"Thanks," Hotch smiles, his gaze returning to Jack after looking away for only a moment. Jack is like a siren, the way each of his little sounds or movements holds Hotch's attention so steadily. He's the most focused of all of you, but you've still never seen him this enamored. "She's amazing. I'm a little terrified."

"You're glowing," you tell Haley as the rest of the team heads to the briefing room. "How is it that you had a baby just a few weeks ago?"

"You're sweet," she smiles, before tilting her head forward. "Do you want to hold him? You're practically his aunt."

You gasp quietly, so as not to wake little Jack. "That is a title I will carry proudly. And yes, I would love to hold him."

Haley hands him to you slowly, and you make sure to support his head carefully as you cup your arms around him. He looks so much like Haley that you almost make a joke about Hotch's genes not even putting up a fight, but that nose...that nose has Hotch written all over it.

When you glance back to where the team left from, you see him turn back at the same moment and offer you an encouraging smile.

"How are you holding up?" you ask Haley, barely able to focus on your surroundings with a newborn in your arms. Maybe there is something to the siren thing.

"Jack's been incredible. He barely cries, it's kind of a godsend...but I do wish Aaron could take time off with me."

You give her what you hope is your most comforting smile. "We've been super swamped with cases here, but in all my years working with him, I have never seen him so eager to leave every night."

She laughs, a pretty sound you remember from your youth. "I know. I feel so unfair when I complain about these things, but I appreciate you humoring me."

"Not at all," you assure her, glancing back down at Jack, who is mid-yawn. "I understand completely. If I had one of these little guys, I wouldn't be able to think about anything else."

You hear her breath catch and you open your mouth to reassure her that it's fine, but she is already reaching forward to squeeze your arm. "You and Jeff would have made amazing parents."

When you both joined the bureau, you were so busy with work that kids weren't on your mind at all. It wasn't until you got settled at the BAU, and Jeff found his place with organized crime, that you even started talking about it.

You want kids, don't you?

Only a few. Maybe four or five. Yeah, five's a good number.

"I should get back to the team," you say softly, blinking away the memories.

Haley sees your face and she smiles sadly as she takes Jack back from your arms. "I'll see you soon. Tell him I'm heading home, will you?"

You nod and watch the elevator doors close in front of her, before joining the team.

***

"I can't believe you went bar hopping without me," Derek shakes his head, feigning offense as he leans so far back in his chair you're afraid it may tip over.

"I think hopping is kind of a strong word," you say, glancing over at Elle, who is perched on the edge of your desk. "We only had one bar in mind, but it closed earlier than we thought, so we went somewhere else after."

"This was a much needed girl's night," Elle grins, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he continues to pout. "We'll invite you next time."

"How was your weekend, Dr. Reid?" you ask, turning around to face him.

Spencer doesn't look up from his crossword.

You say his name again, recalling the attention of Derek and Elle, who had started talking about some trip they've been planning for what feels like months.

When he still doesn't look up, you pick up one of the BAU-provided pens on your desk and chuck it at him, just hard enough to bridge the gap between your desks, but not so hard that it hurts on impact.

"Ow!" Spencer yelps anyway, glancing up with a look that's somewhere between confusion and indignation. He picks the pen up off the ground and turns it over to see the tiny insignia on the cap. "This is FBI property."

"How was your weekend, Spencer?" you ask again, ignoring him. "Didn't you say you had some fun stuff planned?"

"I did," he lights up, instantly forgetting about the pen incident. "My local movie theater was showing reruns of the first season of the original Star Trek, so I got to experience it on the big screen."

Derek laughs and walks back over to his desk next to yours. "We have very different definitions of fun weekend plans, kid."

You're about to tell Derek that no one wants to hear what his idea of fun is when the office door upstairs flies open and Hotch and Gideon walk out.

Reid hands you back your pen, and Derek sits up in his chair so fast it's almost comical.

"We have another case," Hotch announces before coming to a stop.

Gideon takes it away. "Our unsub is male, intelligent, organized and methodical. He has the confidence of a man who's been killing for a long time."

"Only victim removed from the scene is Freddy Condore indicating some tie to him."

Hotch turns to you. "You, Elle, and Reid stay on Condore's background with Garcia. The rest of us will head to the crime scene."

You nod before standing up. "Let's go, kids."

Penelope's lair is just as eccentric as you remember it.

"Take a seat," she instructs before logging into her computer and opening up her criminal history database. "Just don't get too comfortable."

Your lips quirk up as Elle flashes her eyes at you, and you nod your head at the empty chair on Garcia's opposite side. Reid is already sitting on a desk chair by the back, spinning in aimless circles as he rattles off a list of markers to search for.

After a minute, Penelope stops typing. "Credit card receipts show Freddy loved crab cakes, preferred light beer and used to spend his Thursday nights with a woman in Fells Point."

You pick up a stress toy shaped like a tomato from one of her shelves and bounce it in your palm, just for something to occupy your hands.

"What about his associates?" Elle asks, grabbing a pen with a pom-pom on the end and poking it at Spencer's knee.

"Most of them have criminal records."

Elle glances up. "That much I guessed."

Penelope frowns, and looks pointedly at the pen in her hand.

"She's holding the tomato!" Elle complains, throwing a finger at you.

You lift up your hands in surrender, dropping the stress toy. "Thanks a lot, Greenaway."

"Anyway," Reid interrupts, to everyone's surprise, "One of these guys is particularly interesting. Pull up James Baker's rap sheet."

Penelope turns back to her computer as Spencer reads over her shoulder. "He spent time in juvenile detention for attempted murder, was released at age 21, and then subsequently arrested for, and this is in order, armed robbery, petty theft, burglary, narcotics sales, and rapе."

"What's so interesting about that?"

"When it comes to psychological behavior, anything is possible but this criminal history? It just isn't probable."

Elle nods in agreement. "I mean, as a minor, he began with attempted murder and then devolved into pettier crimes?"

"It's the criminal history of a fractured schizophrenic with multiple personality disorder," you sigh. "It just does not make sense."

***

Hotch calls you into his office when he and Morgan return from Baker's address. You can tell something is off before you even step through the door, so you shut it behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"What's going on?" you ask, your eyes glancing over his face to see if his micro-expressions can give you a hint. "What's wrong?"

He looks up with a sigh, his hands clasped on his desk. "Baker's place was an artificial dwelling, and the weapon we recovered on the scene was standard law enforcement issue."

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what he's trying to say - a few seconds longer than usual - and your breath stutters in your throat. "He was undercover?"

"That's what it looks like," Hotch agrees. "I wanted to inform you before telling the rest of the team."

You nod, pressing your eyes closed for a beat.

He missed his pick-up, Mrs. Adler.

We'll call you as soon as we know more.

The memories start to flood back in and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter before opening them. Hotch looks blurry for a moment until your eyes adjust to the light again.

"Does organized crime know where he is?" you ask, desperately needing to fill the silence.

He looks down at the case file. "We assume so, but it's not like they would tell us. They weren't too happy that we were taking on this case at all, and now we know why."

"Maybe they'll talk to me," you suggest, even though the idea of talking to Josh Cramer makes you taste bile. You haven't seen him since a month after the funeral. It's not for his lack of trying, you just couldn't stomach looking at any of them after what happened. One missed call turned to ten and eventually they stopped trying.

There's a piercing pain behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut for a momentary relief. "It was only supposed to be three months."

Hotch's brow furrows and you don't look up at him just yet. You can already picture his expression, the anguish you know he feels for you whenever you bring up Jeff.

"It was a three month operation," you continue, knowing you won't be able to discuss it later if you stop talking now. "That's all we signed up for. Three months away from me and then he was on leave for the rest of the year, so that we could focus on us again. Maybe even start a family."

Your voice cracks on the last word and you tilt your head down to hide your face. He hates it when you cry, but that's not fair. He knows how important it is to get your emotions out, so they don't pile up inside of you, but if he had his way, you would never have had a reason to cry in the first place.

"I hadn't seen him in over a month when he was..."

He can hear the tightness in your voice and he resists the overwhelming urge to reach his hand out and take yours. You're sitting a foot back from the desk, and it's not he could reach you from here anyway, but his fingers still ache.

"I don't want to blame them, Aaron," you sigh. Your words sound watery, and he pulls a handkerchief out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to you. He's almost surprised when you accept the gesture, pressing the cloth square under your eyes to catch the tears leaking out. You were so self-reliant as a kid, never wanting or needing anyone else's help. "I don't want to blame them, but I do. I can't help it, I just do."

Someone else would have consoled you. They would have assured you that feeling this way was natural, and that no one could blame you for feeling what you do, but that isn't who you two are. "Jeff wouldn't."

His name is like a dagger to your heart. You practically wince as Hotch digs further. "That team was his family, just like we are yours. He wouldn't blame them, not for this. Not for something he chose."

Something he chose. This is why you don't let yourself remember that day. This is why you kept that day - the day you got that horrible call - locked up inside your brain, where not even you could reach it. Because if you let yourself think about it and remember, then you will remember that it wasn't really Cramer or his unit or the bureau that you blamed. It was him.

For choosing to miss his pick-up. For choosing to go undercover. For choosing to join organized crime.

You take a deep breath and re-adjust yourself in the uncomfortable chair Hotch refuses to replace, even though it's literally splitting at the seams. Something about your tax dollars hard at work. "What are you going to do about Baker?"

He lets you change the subject. "We have to contact Agent Cramer before-

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Sorry?" Hotch frowns, both of you standing up immediately.

Cramer doesn't take his eyes off Hotch as he seethes with anger. "I told you, this is my case! You ran my agent through IBIS?"

"Because I wanted to know who he worked for and now that I do, I'd like to talk to him."

"You don't have him?"

You can hear your heartbeat in your skull.

Hotch looks at you then, and finally Cramer notices your presence. "Y/N...it's been a while."

Your lips press into a thin line. "Almost two years." The anger you've been trying to avoid seeps into your voice against your will and you sigh, returning to the investigation. "How long has Baker been missing?"

"About 12 hours."

"You think he ran?" you ask, watching Cramer closely as his jaw ticks.

"No, Jimmy's too experienced to run without contact."

He realizes his misstep immediately and his shoulders fall. To his credit, he doesn't break eye contact, even as his expression softens. "That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that I think someone's keeping Jimmy from calling in."

You can feel Aaron looking at you, but you avoid his line of sight. If you're going to have to interact with organized crime, you might as well make yourself useful. "We all want the same thing, Cramer: to get Baker back to his family."

You wait outside as he explains the situation in more detail to Hotch and Gideon, and you're surprised when he's the first to leave. "Can we talk?"

Hotch comes out behind him and raises his eyebrow for a fraction of a second, a check-in. Swallowing thickly, you nod your head and follow him down the hall to the top of the stairs.

"I'm sorry I haven't reached out recently," he says as soon as you're out of earshot of the others. "You know Jeff was one of our top guys."

Your eyes shut at his name, as though someone clapped their hands too close to your face. It's almost laughable how sure you were that you were past your grief. You passed the bureau's psych evaluation after your six month leave with flying colors (because your team practically wrote the answers yourselves), and as each new day passed and you weren't so debilitated by just the thought of him, you thought it meant you were fine. Because time heals all wounds. At least it's supposed to.

"I know," you whisper scratchily, before clearing your throat. "I know that. And it's okay. We've all been busy." You look down at the bustling bullpen where his agents are interacting with your team. "Clearly."

Then you remember you're job here in the first place. "We really are just trying to help. It wouldn't hurt to keep us involved."

Cramer sighs and you know he won't refuse. "We'll loop you in."

***

James Baker is found and Vincent Perotta gets taken into custody, but you can still hear the end of the interrogation ringing in your ears.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent.

When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.

And some people grow up to catch them."

You can't pinpoint exactly what you're feeling, but if you had to guess, it would be sorrow. Sorrow for that little boy who got dealt the worst hand you can imagine, and still turned into the best version of who he could've been.

Hotch can't get the interrogation out of his mind either. He had grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the elevators as soon as Perotta was taken away, in the hopes of avoiding everybody. He's about to let out his breath when a hand reaches between the doors and sends them flying open again.

Normally your appearance is a welcome sight, but tonight, he's had enough talking. Perotta took everything he had to give, and then some, and he doesn't know if he has the strength to go through the proceedings again with you.

"I just want to get home," he says as you stand next to him without a word and face the doors. To my family.

You don't say anything as the little fluorescent floor number ticks down - has it always been this slow - and he feels his nerves tighten with agitation. You're never silent, especially not about something like this.

Just before the elevator reaches the second floor, you reach forward and pull the emergency stop button. He whispers your name, half irritated half relieved, and you step in front of him, focusing your eyes on his. It's a classic profiler technique, both to mentally establish trust and to physically block him from the keypad.

"You're a great father, Aaron."

His mind flashes back 25 years, but he squeezes the hand in his pocket into a fist to keep himself from succumbing to the memories. "I'm trying."

He knows what you're doing, and he would normally be open to a healthy exchange between two adults, but tonight he just can't. It's too fresh.

You seem to understand at least a fraction of what he's trying to convey. Your next words are gentle. "That already makes you a thousand times better than him."

That almost makes him smile. "You can say his name, you know."

You shrug, looking at him with a glint in your eye. "Honestly, I don't think I can. I'm afraid I'll turn into a pile of ash, with the fury your father instills in me."

That's what gets him. He coughs out a laugh that echoes around the elevator, and you return to his side, giving him a moment to breathe on his own.

This time, when his mind spirals back to his childhood, he's not as equipped to block it. The memories come in flashes, a blackening bruise on his abdomen, a split lip explained away through roughhousing in the backyard, the thin scars on his hands and elbows as he finally started to fight back. He would've taken it all forever if he had to, if it meant that he could keep the horrors away from the people he loved. "I really should go."

"Yeah." You push the emergency stop back into place and the elevator hits the ground floor in no time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hotch."

He steps out, half expecting you to follow him. Instead, the doors close and he's by himself again, and he suddenly can't remember why he wanted to be alone in the first place.

***

When the Keystone Killer is finally caught after 18 years of inactivity, he finds himself expecting for there to be some sort of celebration, either in the form of a commendation, or a much-needed break. Instead, what he gets is a mountain of paperwork.

He usually doesn't mind the paperwork that comes after a long case. It's a helpful way for him to sort through his thoughts on what went down, and to learn from mistakes that were made along the way, whether in the profile or in the capture of the unsub.

Lately, paperwork has felt like an added torture to the long hours he already spends at work. It's not that he wasn't excited about going home before, but ever since Jack was born, he hasn't been able to get out of the office fast enough. But being the unit chief of the BAU has its responsibilities, and this is one of them.

He's drowning in consultation files and case reports when you knock on his door, two coffees in hand.

"Thought that was you," he says, finishing the sentence he was writing.

You frown, setting one steaming cup down on his desk. He hasn't even looked up yet. "How'd you know? Or do you just say that to everyone who walks in here?"

His lip twitches and he puts his pen down. "I could smell the coffee. It always smells the same when you make it."

"Oh?" You weren't aware you had a method. "And how's that?"

"Burnt."

You take the lid off your cup and chuck it at him with surprising accuracy. It would have thwacked him in the forehead if he hadn't swatted it aside with his stupid catlike reflexes.

"What are you working on?" you ask after taking a scalding sip of perfectly brewed coffee.

He looks up for a beat before diving back into the file he was skimming. "Paperwork for the Keystone Killer case."

"But we just finished that," you point out before reaching forward and taking the file out from under his nose.

He huffs. "I was...looking at that."

"This is a report on what happened a couple of hours ago," you say, ignoring his remark. "You can easily do this tomorrow, or later this week."

"It's fresh in my mind now. I don't want to forget any details."

You shrug in a motion that says 'fair enough'. "Or, you could actually go home before midnight for once."

You slide another file off the top of his pile and flip it open, reading over the notes Hotch has scribbled in the margins. He's so meticulous about his job that you almost forget he was promoted just a little over a year ago. He became unit chief at the same time that you joined the team, so you didn't get to see him in his early days, but looking at him now, you almost can't imagine it. It's like he's built for this, for taking responsibility and leading people with kindness and respect.

"Elle said something on the plane today," he says suddenly, jerking you from your thoughts.

You close the file and look up as he runs a hand over his head, pushing his thick hair back just for it to bounce forward again. "She said that she's scared she's going to look up and see that her life has passed her by while she was chasing monsters."

Something cold runs through your veins and you sit up straighter in your chair. "And what did you say?"

"I told her the truth."

You smile in an effort to keep your eyes from shining. "What, that we're all doomed?"

He looks at you candidly. "That this job will eat you up if you let it." Your smile falls and he continues. "You just can't let it."

"I'm sure Elle loved hearing that."

He shrugs. "She was surprisingly receptive."

That gets a laugh out of you, even if the good humor doesn't last long. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"This job, while also being a husband, and a father." You sigh, and you can almost feel the weight of the air as it leaves your body. "When I go home, I don't have to be anything to anyone. Most of the time it feels awful, but sometimes, after an especially bad case, I'm almost relieved when I can go home and just check out."

You aren't talking about him anymore, and he can tell. He doesn't mind, if this is what it will take for you to work through your emotions.

"We were gonna start trying for a baby."

That surprises him. Not that you wanted to be a mother - he knows that - but that he didn't know you were already thinking about it, especially because of how you grew up. You don't talk about it often, but after losing your mother to a drunk driver when you were ten, you almost transformed into her, becoming the emotional support for your family when there was no one else to fill that role.

You press your lips into a thin line and take a deep breath, your coffee cold and forgotten on the desk in front of you. "We had been talking about it for years, but with the paths our careers were taking, there just wasn't enough time before then." Your eyes look far away, and you don't seem to notice that your lips have unconsciously curved up into a reminiscent smile. "Jeff wanted five kids. Five. God, can you imagine?"

He can, but he doesn't say anything, because he knows you aren't looking for a response. Just for someone to listen.

"I'm an only child," you say with a laugh. "I don't even know what it's like to have one sibling, let alone four." But Jeff had come from a huge family, and he had wanted you to experience that. He loved how full his home always felt growing up, never without someone to talk to. Now you won't ever get to experience that. "I guess I just wish sometimes that we had tried earlier."

"You'll have it someday," Hotch says simply, practically reading your mind. "If that's what you want, you'll have it."

"I waited so long," you whisper, closing your eyes for a long moment. "I was just so afraid that I wouldn't do it right, because I didn't have my mother anymore to help me."

"You would've been a great mother," he assures you, his voice confident. "One day, you will be."

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you clear your throat to keep the tears at bay. "How do you know?"

"I just know."

***

When you push through the doors to the bullpen the next morning, you are greeted by a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Sean?"

He turns around slowly, clearly recognizing your voice, and pulls his lips up into a smile that you return. "Hey, Y/N, how's it going?"

You weren't close to him as a kid, mostly because of the age gap between him and Hotch. You had tried to make more of an effort after graduating college, but Sean was fierce in his convictions, and there were a lot of things he didn't understand about his childhood that you certainly weren't going to explain to him now.

"Good, good," you say, leading him away from the throng of staring women. You shoot them a look that makes them disperse. "You here for your brother? He's upstairs."

He nods, glancing up at the closed office door. You start to lead him to the stairwell when he stops in his tracks and turns to you. "What mood's he in?"

"Why?" you ask, your brow furrowing. "You got bad news? Nothing I need to worry about, I hope."

Sean shakes his head, glancing up at the closed door again. "Nothing like that. I'll just go up."

You let him walk up on his own, knowing he doesn't want you getting involved in whatever he's thinking about. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, the three women return to your side.

"That's Hotch's brother?" Penelope asks, standing so close you can feel her breath on your ear.

"Maybe Hotch is adopted."

"What do you mean?" you ask, unconsciously glancing up the stairs. "They're honestly pretty similar." You're only half joking. They don't look anything alike, but that Hotchner brand of righteousness runs deep.

JJ frowns. "I don't see it."

"Yeah, he looks...like that," Penelope murmurs, before looking at you. "Did you know him when you were younger? Was he hot then too?"

You choke on your own spit. "He was nine years old when I left for college, so...no."

Her eyes widen and she lifts her hands in surrender.

"Ooh, here he comes."

You look up to see Sean storming down the stairs, Hotch hot on his heels.

"Sean, listen to me."

He turns so fast, you're afraid they're going to crash into each other. "Don't profile me, Aaron."

Sean stomps out of the bullpen while Hotch watches him leave, and you can't get the striking feeling of deja vu out of your head. Two boys, 15 years younger than they are now, standing in the same positions, with the same looks on their faces.

You imagine that you and Hotch probably act the same way around each other as when you first met, at eight years old.

The memory comes easily, even with more than two decades of time standing in the way. The little boy with dark hair who had sat next to you on the school bus, just because there were no other empty seats available that day.

You hadn't said anything for the first few stops, just watched him out of the corner of your eye as he nodded his head unconsciously to the music coming out of his large headphones. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you tapped on his shoulder. "What are you listening to?"

He had taken his headphones off quickly, as though caught in the act. "What?"

You repeated your question before leveling him with a pointed stare that meant 'there is a correct answer'. You were a feisty kid, and you weren't always the best at making first impressions, so his steady response impressed you. "Beatles. Revolver album."

"I love that one!" you had gushed, leaning in closer without a warning to press your ear to one of the speakers on his headphones. "Is this Yellow Submarine?"

He had nodded, the confusion in his eyes slowly transforming into delight. "You know their stuff?"

"Of course. My favorite's Eleanor Rigby."

He had frowned then. "That one's too sad."

You weren't surprised by his opinion. You had yet to find a boy your age who could appreciate serious music, but liking The Beatles was a start, at least.

"I'm Y/N," you had said, extending your hand like you were starting a business meeting.

He shook your hand furtively. "Aaron."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

The school bus had stopped at your street then, and you had gotten up without another word to this boy, who would one day become your best friend in the world.

Luckily, the next day, Aaron chose to sit next to you again, this time with a second pair of headphones to attach to his compact cassette deck. Two days turned to three, and before long, you had a new friend.

***

"I can't imagine what two weeks away from this place is gonna feel like," you sigh, packing some essentials into your bag and snapping it shut. "I might actually miss you guys."

"Not me," Morgan grins, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as he zips around you. "Two weeks of pure heaven with nothing but young, beautiful adults looking to make vacation memories."

"Your friend's resort better be as nice as you say it is," Elle says sternly as she wiggles her finger at Derek, who is busy inviting Reid to join their vacation.

"Thanks, but I'm going home," he says quickly, without looking at any of you. "Have a good one, guys."

"I'll head out too," you announce, grabbing your things and following him to the elevators. "Wait up, Spence."

He doesn't seem to hear you, but you slip through the doors just before they close. "You okay?"

"Huh?" he says, finally looking up. "Oh, yeah. I'm just not looking forward to the Nevada heat."

You can tell he's lying, but you don't want to press him right before the long break. "You can always call me if you need anything. Seriously."

"Yeah," he nods. "I know."

You wave goodbye to him in the parking lot, and you're back in the silence of your home by the end of the hour.

The rest of your day is spent lazing around the house, and you're asleep when you hear a knock at your door. After Jeff's death, you started keeping your gun in your nightstand, more out of a general sense of security than any specific acute fear, but its proximity during late night calls has given you the peace of mind you needed to finally sleep through the night.

Lifting it from the drawer, you hold it behind your back as you tiptoe to your front door and look through the peephole. When you don't see anyone, you carefully pull the door open, only to find a small packet sitting on your welcome mat with your name scrawled on the top.

After bringing it inside the house and locking the door again, you pry open the seal and extract a large piece of paper covered in a series of numbers and dots.

That's when the phone rings.

***

"How's it going?" you ask Reid and Morgan as you enter the conference room where all of the Fisher King's clues have been laid out. Neither of them have taken their eyes off the paper you brought in since you tacked it up on the board.

As expected, Reid doesn't look up. "The answer to what book we need has to be in here."

"Yeah," Derek sighs, glancing over at you, "but we sure as hell can't see it."

"Yet."

You look at the numbers again, hoping that your short walk to the coffee station and back would have been enough to unlock something new in your brain. Nothing. "The answer has to be based on specific details of each person's clue." A small sound turns your attention to the couch, where Elle is lying on her side. "Is Elle asleep?"

"I'm awake!" she starts, sitting up lethargically.

At the outburst, Hotch walks into the room and points at her bags. "I'm sending you home. You need to get some rest."

"No-"

"We won't do anything without you, I promise."

"Elle, seriously, we're not any closer than we were."

She nods, her lack of sleep seeming to dawn on her as she yawns again.

"Anderson," Hotch calls out, before you stop him. "What is it?"

"I can take her home," you suggest, looking over your shoulder as she lugs her bags down the hall with bleary eyes. He looks like he wants to protest, so you speak up before he has the chance. "She barely knows Anderson. I'll make sure she's settled, and then you can send him to watch her house, so I can come back here."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he sighs, his eyes still trained on Elle's silhouette lingering by the elevator. "We may need you here."

You cock your head at Reid and Morgan, who have been sitting in the same positions for so long, you're surprised their necks haven't locked. "It's like they said. We haven't made any progress in over an hour. I'm not helping here."

He still looks unsure, but you know it's just worry. He'll always worry about you. "Okay, go. Call me in an hour to check-in."

You dip your head in a nod and jog through the bullpen to catch Elle as she's heading out.

"So you're my bodyguard, huh?"

You laugh, pressing the button for the ground floor. "Something like that."

"Good," Elle says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn, "you're much more fun than Anderson."

"Prettier, too."

The car ride to her house starts off silent, but eventually you break your internal promise to let her come to you. "How are you feeling after last night?"

She just shrugs. "It was more annoying than anything. I'm just glad I got to enjoy at least some of my vacation."

"I heard there was blood all over your room," you point out lightly, trying to broach the subject in a delicate manner. "That can't have been fun to wake up to."

"It was all on the outside. That's part of why they weren't able to hold me. That, and Hotch's lawyer chops."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her as you pull over to the sidewalk. "His lawyer chops?" You know he used to be a prosecutor before joining the bureau, but you never got to see his skills in action.

"Yeah," Elle gushes, her face brightening considerably, "you should have seen the way he walked in there. Those beat cops had no idea what hit 'em. He was in full prosecutor mode, went all rainmaker on them until they released me."

You can imagine it. If any of you were in trouble, he wouldn't let anything get between him and your safety. "I wish I could've seen that."

When you put the car in park, you help Elle with her bags and walk her up to her door, where she insists that she'll be fine on her own.

"I promised I would wait with you until another agent could come and relieve me," you emphasize, instinctively scanning the vicinity around her home as she walks inside and drops her things on the floor.

"In about thirty seconds, I'll be passed out on this couch right here," she points at the window seat behind her, "so you'll just be watching me sleep for an hour."

You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off. "Y/N, I'll be fine."

If there's one word to describe Elle, it's stubborn, so you let her shut the door behind her and you walk back to your car. Even if she won't let you sit with her inside, you still can't bring yourself to start the ignition, so you lean your seat back halfway and close your eyes, just for a few moments.

You haven't gotten much sleep either, and you're about to doze off when you hear a loud thud from outside the car. Jerking up, you undo the clasp of your holster and push open the car door. The world is silent, except for the rustling of leaves in the wind, but you start making your way up the drive, just to be sure. There's another thud, quieter this time, and you reach for your sidearm as you ascend her porch steps. Then comes a gunshot.

You start running.

[utterlyotterlyx]

When I Met The Devil

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Part Two to When I Kissed The Teacher which you can read here.

Summary - Azriel adored everything about you, but there was still certain information that you were keeping from him. Azriel finds out exactly what you've been hiding thanks to a particularly unfortunate visit.

Warnings - mentions of sexual abuse and neglect, angst, mentions of trauma

It had been three months since Azriel had taken you on your first (of many) dates. Azriel had been so nervous, not sure where to take you that would be able to live up to your expectations, even Nyx had given him some ideas by babbling on about what made you smile in the classroom.

Apparently you loved nature, of course you did, you were from the Spring Court. So Azriel had packed up a picnic and taken you to a garden of wildflowers away from the city to watch the sunset and gaze at the stars. You had taken his breath away when you had opened the door to him, you had dressed in a loose fitting pale blue dress with white flowers embellished into the bodice, the sleeves hung off of your shoulders and your hair lay unbound down your back.

That day had been one of the best days of his life, he had gotten to know you beyond your profession and learnt so much about you, but the nagging feeling that you were omitting some truth tugged at him, but not enough for him to make a deal about it. Azriel had kissed you under the stars, he had run his fingers through your hair and kissed you so passionately that you swore the world had stopped moving just so it could watch you

Since then, you had been inseparable.

Azriel showed up at the school each day after that, sometimes in the morning at drop off or in the evening at pick up, sometimes both, and he always brought you flowers or chocolates or anything he could think of that would bring a smile to those lips. He would walk you home, but more often than not he would pull you inside the River House and force you to have dinner with them.

You never objected to his wishes, you enjoyed his hands on you far too much to say no.

Azriel was happy to take things slow with you, you were so gentle and pure, if you wanted to wait years to share a bed with him then he was okay with that. You were worth any wait.

One morning you had opened the door to the school, frowning slightly when you couldn't see Azriel or Feyre and Rhys with little Nyx waiting on the grass. They would have told you if Nyx wasn't well and needed to take the day off unless it was serious, but even then, Azriel still would have showed up on the grass with our without Nyx just to see you.

It plagued your mind all day, and you did your best to conceal your worry from the children and continue as normal, but when it came to home time and none of them were there, you knew something wasn't right.

You had locked the room up quickly and stopped by a healer to pick up some infant friendly tonics just in case Nyx needed anything, bundling the vials in your hands as you rushed down the winding streets of Velaris, allowing your feet to take you where you needed to go whilst your mind reeled with endless possibility.

Lifting the hem of your skirt as you ascended the steps of the River House, you completely missed the scent that haunted your nightmares, too frantic with worry to notice it curling around you like chains. Then you saw the back of his head, shoulder length blonde hair and broad shoulders, and then the scent hit you, one of Spring rain and lifeful earth, and you dropped the vials in your hands onto the floor, not even flinching when they broke and cut through your skin.

The thing in question turned his head to the side and sniffed, smirking with feral delight before he fully turned to you, and you saw nothing else but him and those eyes that had made you do things you didn't want to too many times, they were dark and honed in on their prey. His lips tilted upward and he rose to his feet, and you didn't hear anything anyone else was saying or commanding as he strode across the room and stopped right in front of you. You didn't dare look up, you couldn't, and then his fingers gripped your chin harshly and forced your gaze upward.

"I've been looking for you," the room held a collective breath, his shoes crunched down on the broken glass and the liquid parted under his weight.

You knew that they were all watching you, waiting for you to say something, you averted your gaze to Azriel who was on his feet, fists clenched and glowering at the male who dared to touch you, "Nyx didn't show up to school, I thought he was sick, I was bringing tonics."

Feyre rose to her feet beside Rhys, "It's okay, Y/N," her eyes were soft, she could feel your terror, they all could, and then it seemed like your secret and finally been released from the depths of your shame, "Let go of her, Tamlin."

Tamlin chuckled but didn't take his eyes off of you, he cocked his head to the side and breathed you in, "Don't tell me to take my hands off what is mine," his voice was dangerously low, possession had taken over every part of him and the wolf was coming out to play, "Isn't that right, fiancé?"

"I'm not your fiancé," tears bubbled at the corners of your eyes and Azriel saw how small Tamlin made you feel, your shoulders had curled inward, your entire body was preparing to protect itself against the male who held your head in his hands. You looked to Azriel then, "I ran. I couldn't do it," you blinked hard and your tears flowed down your cheeks.

"Just because you ran doesn't mean that the agreement is void, Flower," you cringed, you felt helpless in his grip, like all of the independence you had worked for was nothing but dust dancing in the breeze, "The Tithe has been particularly awful without you."

Azriel lost it then, he grabbed Tamlin by the shoulder and forced him round, the action making his hand jolt away from your face, and Azriel landed a sickening blow to the side of his face.

"This is not a battle you want to fight, Tamlin," Rhys stood beside Azriel who was panting with fury, he knew what the Tithe was, they all did, and the thought of Tamlin using your unwilling body as a vessel for his sickening ritual was enough to send Azriel into a blind rage.

Azriel bent down to Tamlin's level, noticing Feyre rush to your side as he did to comfort you, and growled, "Touch her again and it won't be a battle, Tamlin. It will be a war."

Tamlin had the gall to grin, "She's my fiancé, Shadowsinger. Not even you can get between that."

"No, but I can," Cassian grabbed Tamlin by the neck of his coat, hauling him to his feet in front of Rhys, "Y/N is a member of the Night Court, she is a cherished member of my family. She is not your mate, so you have no claim on her and you know it. Now, leave my city before I cut your head from your shoulders and leave Spring lordless."

Knowing he wouldn't win on Night Court soil, Tamlin scoffed and headed for the door, not before stopping at your side and letting his gaze roam your figure, "They can't watch you forever. I'll see you soon, Flower."

Then he left.

And you stood standing in Feyre's arms pale and frozen, looking at the broken glass on the floor and shaking your head, "I have to go," you announced, peeling yourself out of Feyre's embrace and feeling like a completely awful friend to her, "I'm sorry."

"Y/N.."

You couldn't stick around and listen to her call your name, you couldn't stay there and witness Azriel looking at you like a stranger. So you ran. You ran all the way home, you didn't stop for a single moment until you closed the door behind you and slid down the wood, bursting into chest wrecking sobs.

If anyone would know who you were, it would be Lucien Vanserra, he was Tamlin's friend after all.

The red haired male found himself dragged before the Inner Circle by Elain, a thing he detested, he had just returned from the human realm and wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up with his mate, sitting in front of them was something he wanted to be rid of and fast.

"What do you know about Y/N? She came from the Spring Court," Lucien's eyes widened in saddening alarm at Feyre's question, he looked about the room as if you'd pop out from a corner at any given second.

"She's here?" Feyre nodded, "How is she?"

The question took them by surprise, and confirmed what they already knew, that you certainly we no double agent, but they had to know your story, it was a matter of protecting you, "She could be better. Tamlin was here."

Lucien's eyes darkened into molten lava pools and his nostrils flared, "Did he see her?" the silence confirmed his own query and he looked deflated, his shoulder fell and sadness floated over his face, enough sadness that Elain had moved to his side and wrapped his hand in her own.

"We need to know everything," Rhys ordered, moving his gaze to Azriel who was itching to leave the house and go to you, but even he had to know what had happened.

The Autumn male sighed, feeling conflicted, not wanting to tell your story for you but knowing he had no choice, "Y/N belongs to a very powerful Spring Court family, her father wanted a direct line to Tamlin so offered up his eldest daughter, Y/N, for marriage. Her father was a prick, no doubt still is. He sold Y/N to Tamlin like she was worth nothing more than what she could breed. She tried so hard to put off marrying him, she wanted a long engagement so that she could get to know Tamlin but everyone knew she just wanted more time to find a way out. Then the Tithe came and even I couldn't stop him from taking her into that cave," Lucien looked to Feyre who knew Tamlin all too well to know that what he was saying was nothing but the truth.

"Each year after that first Tithe, he sought her out against her will, you could hear her crying bouncing off of the walls. I couldn't watch it anymore so I helped her escape, I gave her enough money to be able to travel the continent and never heard from her again. I just did all I could to throw him off, to keep him away from her. Y/N was the happiest person in Spring, everyone loved her so much, and Tamlin ruined her."

"Seems like a pattern," Feyre cleared her throat and settled into Rhys' warmth that had wrapped around her like a blanket. She felt horrible, she thought she had it bad, but at least Tamlin never took her against her will like he had done to you repeatedly.

"Feyre I don't want to compare, but you have to understand that what he did to you was not nearly as bad as what he did to her. He took her light away, he forced her into a darkness I've never seen before or seen since, the neglection was sickening, she would cry for days on end, she'd mourn the life she dreamed of. It was unbearable."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, "She made it here though, I knew she'd find where she belonged in the end."

"Why didn't she tell me? I would have understood."

Rhys shushed his mate, he knew how much Feyre loved you, they all did, "Sometimes you don't want to talk about what others made you do," his mind drifted and eyes glazed over as he remembered his own story for a moment, the painful memories tugging at his heartstrings.

Rhys knew how it felt to be used against your own will, he knew how it felt to lie there each night and feel like a worthless pawn in someone else's game. He knew how it felt to work yourself into exhaustion trying to forget the terrors others had willingly inflicted on you.

If anyone could truly understand you, then it would be him. And there was no way he was going to let you lock yourself away and perish with shame when you had a family and life awaiting you.