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#'but I want more stories!' then go read canon works

squid789 · 3 days

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Squid's Trigun Fanfic Recs

Hey, so I'm done with self promos so its time appreciate a bunch of you guys in line with @trigunfanfic appreciation week! A lot of this is gonna be straight up vashmeryl, heads up. Although we all know what I'm about, so I guess have fun! :3

Gonna start with one of my best friends and also my beta, @eomma-jpeg. You may know her from her millynai epic, In the Meadow. But right now she's working on a vashmeryl college au fic called What a Shame! By far one of my favorite writers! She also wrote a companion millywood oneshot for Sea Foam as well called Refuge from the Storm that I want to get printed for myself.

@scoundrels-in-love is another prolific writer I usually look forward to! Man, they sort of write a little bit of everything in regards to ship and canon. I mostly know them for mashwood, but my all time favorite fics of theirs is If this is communication, I disconnect. its everything I could ever want from a post max vashmeryl fic. Absolute gold!!

Okay, here's the thing. I am a slut for vashmeryl, but @ladymaliwan's writing is so good to convince me to branch out. Their stryfewood fics are to die for and imaginative and thank you for sharing so much of your snippets with me!!! They mean the world to meee ;3;

Next up is @eezybree's Bluebells. Man, ngl, Sav you give me a lot of writer's envy with this fic. AHHHH it's so fucking goooooood. I know I'm a chapter or two behind but man they get emotions across so well and that fluff is to die for. Comletely wonderful post max vashmeryl

Another one I am woefully behind on. But I remember way back last year when @faindri was still doing a lot of the concept art for EBS. I'm not usually one for aus but who can resist a space opera? And the amount of detail and worldbuilding in this fic is astonishing and actually super inspiring!

Okay I feel like @wandererriha's Get Help series is criminally underrated. Again, usually not a fan of aus, but this modern au is charming as all hell and I find myself coming back to it whenever I feel down.

Also shoutout to the folks who I have no idea have a tumblr account or not or just plain too scared to say hi too but also highly recommend Birds do it, bees do it, plants can do it by RambleFox, Condensed Trigun by SugarPill, Horticulture Blues by dweeblet, The End by ginger_mosaic, Reporter's Notes by @museqmeg, No Reason by @eilwen, this is our body (come out of the bath) by @spacebeyonce, and Arcaronar by JackelJamboree. All of these are on AO3! Also on ff.net, I recommend looking at Their Life by cmr2014. It's a super short post 98 vashmeryl oneshot that makes me super giggly when I read it! My FINAL rec is After the Fall by Girl.Interpreted, also on ff.net. If any of you have known me for a while, you'll know that this fic has some sentimental value to me personally. To start, its an unfinished post 98 vashmeryl fic with a healthy does of adventure and A LOT of trimax references. Way baaaack about a decade ago, I had just trimax for the first time after rediscovery of trigun, which was first introduced to me as a kid by my weird, weird dad. And man was I craving more trigun. So I went on ff.net for the first time ever at like one in the morning and this was the fic that got me into fanfcition just as concept and a hobby. I wouldn't be writing fic until early college, but man this story STUCK with me in ways I couldn't begin to imagine. But the writing and the story and just everything... AHHHHHHHH Anyways go read After the Fall!!!! I doubt it will ever be finished, but I can dream But literally, GO READ ALL OF THESE FICS! GO ENJOY THEM!!!!!!! IM BEGGING YOU!!! Happy Trigun Fanfic Appreciation Week!!!!

#trigun #trigun fanfiction #trigun fanfic #trimax #tristamp #vashmeryl #millynai #stryfewood #trigunfanficappreciation

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nuri148 · 2 days

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My Take on Levi's Age

I originally wrote this as a rb addition to another post. I've been meaning to make it a stand alone post since then, and with all the talk about Levi's age since the publication of bad boy, here it is, finally.

If you ask me, Levi could not have been more that 4-5 years old at the time Kenny found him around 829.

Why?

He's severely malnourished, probably spent several days cloistered in the room with Kuchel with nothing to eat. So my guess is that, though he was old enough to speak and understand Kuchel was dead (even if he could not quite grasp the bigger concept of Death), he was too young to go out and procure himself and his mum some food, be it by stealing or begging. And for that, he's need to be very young.

I lived in Greater Buenos Aires more than half of my life (the infamous "conurbano"), and I've seen lots of very small kids, 4-5 years old, begging like pros for either change or food. It's unfortunately very common in impoverished areas. And I wasn't even in the bad ones. So, in that aspect, the Underground wouldn't be different from our villas or Brazil's favelas.

Kuchel was a prostitute. She wouldn't want Levi to witness her at work. It is fair to think that as soon as he was old enough to cross the street she'd let him roam and go play with other kids while mummy's busy. There, he'd quickly learn how to come by a piece of moldy bread to stave hunger.

So in order to just sit starving by his mother instead of going out looking for help, Levi must have been young enough that his mum could still keep him under wraps; too young to know his way about the Underground's streets, too much of a rookie in terms of using his charm or his cunning to get a bit of food.

Uri Reiss inherited the Founding Titan in 829. BUT, nowhere does it say that Kenny's encounter with Uri happens right after the latter became a titan. So Kenny might have joined Uri up to a couple of years after 829 (not many, as Rod Reiss still looks young in that flashback).

So Kenny finds Levi between 829 and 831; And Levi is 4-5 then, meaning he was born, at earliest, in 823 (considering his b-day is only one week before the year's end, that'd make him 5 in for most of 829) and latest in 825 (same if Kenny found him in 831). That makes him 10-12 years older than Eren and company. , ~20 when he joins the SC, ~26 during seasons 1-3, ~30 after the time skip, and ~33 in the epilogue.

"But Yams said he was thirty-somethiiiing!"

TLDR: I wouldn't consider canon some spur-of-the-moment answer given by Yams in a panel where he's probably tired, nervous, and doesn't have his timeline handy.

Allow me to speak here as a writer: the whims of your imagination often don't align with the logic of what needs to go on the page. So it is perfectly possible to imagine your character in a way that is inconsistent with your timeline. You see them with short hair and summer clothes fixing lunch in their sunny kitchen in a scene and, when they move to the dining room you see them with hair 4 inches longer and serving supper as a snowstorm rages outside. When you write it, you're going to have to pick up one, and go back to your notes often for continuity after, bc your brain keeps forever placing the kitchen in sunny summer and the living room in a winter night. Oh, and they're both simultaneously on the ground and the second floor. Escher pictures make more sense.

The story of AoT spans many years, so we don't know which year Levi is the default Levi in Yams' brain. It could even be the Levi from the time skip, or from a future after the last chapter that only exists in his imagination. Also, Yams has bungled up numbers before so, personally, I don't trust him much in that department.

In any case, Math is a hard science, so if Kenny found Levi with 4-5 years in 829, he can't be 30+ in 850. 5+21=26. No matter what Yams says.

Additional notes:

The original post. With additions. I recommend reading the quoted twitter thread.

Another, recent twitter thread on Levi's age

A lengthy post by an actual psychologist providing scientific foundation for Levi's age when Kenny finds him.

I saw yet another post on Levi's age recently, but I can't find the link rn and I have to make lunch. if/when I find it, I'll add it (and others I may come across)

#levi ackerman #levi's age #aot meta

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a-narcissists-warren · 10 hours

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do you guys remember the sketch animation thingy i made with suitcase and balloon saying someone should make a grimdark of it?

SO UM. i'm not exactly promising anything BUT that idea has been cooking in my brain <:3

and i've been doodling stuff about it :3 (more yapping and drawings bellow)

In paper, Balloon and Suitcase forming a friendship and going around killing sounds fun in it's own BUT how they reach to that point needs work. They aren't exactly evil (canonically wise) they wouldn't kill someone let alone in gruesome ways like in a grimdark.

What i have in mind specifically needs some tweaking but first and foremost, if i want to actually attempt to make a story i don't want their actions to be justified by mental illness, like most are- It feels wrong to me, and I get that it's the easy option i don't wanna be yet another one to villain-ize any disorder.

Neither do i want the "mephone is missing" trope, i want them to have that obstacle and find their own solutions to it. That's the interesting part after all: HOW they do it

Would they use weapons? Would they have a favorite method? Would they enjoy it? Would they feel regret? Would they be reckless or more precise? What skills do they have that could help them in achieving their goals? HOW do they come to an agreement?

I'm gonna need to answer a lot of those questions, but here's a funny one i wanted to mention: How would Suitcase kill?

I don't thinking standing one one leg using another to wave a weapon around would be exactly convenient. Neither waving one in her mouth, she could hurt herself :(

BUT THEN IT HIT ME. Armless objects sometimes carry stuff in their mouth, possibly heavy stuff. This indicates a strong jaw

So. uh she bitey :3

HEHEHEE let me know what you guys think! I left it mostly vague, i didn't talk about their promise, just in case i wanna make it a thing :3 but also what should i name this au? just for convenience if i ever talk about it again

okay i'm gonna shut up thanks for reading :3

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faeriekit · 1 month

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I love it when people hop on posts on fandom content and go WELL, THAT WOULDNT WORK, BECAUSE IN THE LORE— look. I have read countless stories of various methods in which the authors Get That Man Pregnant™️. Mayhaps suspend your disbelief in fake characters for ten minutes so that strangers online can have their fun. If you're only interested in enforcing 100% canon lore, your calling is in editing wiki pages.

#'but I want more stories!' then go read canon works #'but I like fanworks but ONLY fanworks that—' go write them yourself. no one has to cater to your tastes! :)#also:#if they reboot your man eight times that's not your man anymore #faer nonsense

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jewishcissiekj · 3 months

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Ok so these aren't recommendations or proper reading orders but just for anyone looking to read/watch/listen to everything Asajj, I wanted to post my checklist for both Legends and Canon Asajj and tag them properly for convenience

Canon Asajj checklist -Dooku: Jedi Lost (Audio Drama) -Jedi of the Republic – Mace Windu #5 (Comic) -Brotherhood (Novel) -Hyperspace Stories #5 -Star Wars Adventures: The Clone Wars – Battle Tales #2 (Comic) -The Clone Wars S1 E16 (TV) -The Clone Wars (Movie, Novel) -The Clone Wars S1 E1 (TV) -Sharing the Same Face (short story, The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark) -The Clone Wars S1 E5 (TV) -The Clone Wars S1 E9 (TV) -Worthless (short story, Stories of Jedi and Sith) -The Clone Wars S3 E2 (TV) -Tales of Villainy: Give & Take (short comic story, Star Wars Adventures (2020) #12) -The Clone Wars S3 E12-14 (TV) -The Clone Wars S4 E19-20 (TV) -The Lost Nightsister (short story, The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark) -The Clone Wars S4 E21-22 (TV) -Dark Vengeance: The True Story of Darth Maul and His Revenge Against the Jedi Known as Obi-Wan Kenobi (short story, The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark) -Sisters (short comic story, Age of Republic Special #1) -The Clone Wars S5 E19-20 (TV) -Kindred Spirits (short story, Star Wars Insider #159) -Dark Disciple (Novel) -The Bad Batch S3 E 9 -Star Wars Adventures: Return to Vader's Castle #1 (Comic) -Star Wars Adventures: Return to Vader's Castle #3 (Comic) -Star Wars Adventures: Return to Vader's Castle #5 (Comic) -Obi-Wan #4 (Comic) -Star Wars (2015) #47 (Comic, only depicted on playing card) -Star Wars Adventures Ashcan (Comic) -Halcyon Legacy #1 (Comic) -Halcyon Legacy #3 (Comic)

Legends Asajj Checklist -Restraint (short story) -Star Wars: Clone Wars chapters 6-7 (TV) -Star Wars: Republic #51-52 (Comic) -Jedi: Mace Windu #1 (Comic) -Star Wars: Republic #53 (Comic) -Rogue's Gallery (short comic story, Star Wars: Clone Wars Adventures Volume 3) -Dark Heart (short story) -Star Wars: Clone Wars chapters 11-19 (TV) -The Cestus Deception (Novel) -Star Wars: Republic #58-60 (Comic) -Star Wars: Republic #64 (Comic) -Jedi Trial (Novel) -Yoda: Dark Rendezvous (Novel) -Star Wars: Republic #69-71 (Comic) -The Clone Wars: Shadowed (Webcomic) -The Clone Wars S1 E16 (TV) -The Clone Wars (Movie, Novel) -The Clone Wars: Prelude (Webcomic) -The Clone Wars S1 E1 (TV) -The Clone Wars: Shipyards of Doom (Graphic Novel) -The Clone Wars: Secret Missions 2: Curse of the Black Hole Pirates (Junior Novel) -The Clone Wars: The Fall of Falleen (Webcomic) -The Clone Wars S1 E5 (TV) -The Clone Wars: Crash Course (Graphic Novel) -The Clone Wars #7-9 (Comic) -The Clone Wars S1 E9 (TV) -The Clone Wars: The Valsedian Operation (Webcomic) -The Clone Wars #11-12 (Comic) -Keep the Faith (short comic story) -In the Air (short comic story) -The Clone Wars S3 E2 (TV) -Hunted (short comic story) -Fashion (short comic story) -The Only Good Clanker (short comic story) -Under The Hammer (short comic story) -The Clone Wars S3 E12-14 (TV) -The Clone Wars #5-6 (Comic, retconned) -The Clone Wars S4 E19-22 (TV) -The Clone Wars: The Sith Hunters (Graphic Novel) -The Clone Wars S5 E19-20 (TV) -Star Wars: Obsession #1-5 (Comic)

And a guide: -In no way these are my recommendations, I actually unrecommend a certain book here, I'm still working on my recommendations post but this is just the Wookiepedia list just less confusing (I hope) -She isn't a main character in all of these. At all. And some are just cameos, I didn't get into specifics about that. -Most of the canon books & short stories can be found in e-book/digital form, or in physical copies pretty easily, just look them up. -The same thing that goes for the canon books goes for the canon comics, although most of the issues listed are a part of a series (as might be evident by their numbers). That doesn't mean you need to read the rest, because they're pretty stand-alone and usually just reference the other issues of the series/have a framing story related to that. -I'm not sure where you can find the Star Wars Insider issue or the Adventures Ashcan, sorry about that. -The Bad Batch Season 3 did not come out yet so it gets a question mark. Might try and update this after it does. -The Legends list is much more complicated than canon, since anything related to The Clone Wars series may contradict the prior Legends media. That's why I marked those in bold, as they are only officially part of that timeline, and don't make much sense with the rest of it (most of it, other than the actual episodes, were mostly de-canonized when Disney bought Star Wars with the rest of Legends). -There are ofc the original printings of those, but I also I believe most of the Legends books listed were reprinted as a part of the Legends brand, but if they weren't then idk what to tell you. -The Legends comics were also reprinted, mostly in big, pretty expensive collections. So it might be harder to buy those. I think there are digital copies of those collections, though, so you can buy them for cheaper that way. -The Clone Wars webcomics can be found here , through @clonewarsarchives (a great resource overall) -The short TCW stories (in bold under short comic story) can all be found here (once again through clone wars archives) -The Restraint short story can't be found anywhere I looked, only in the 2nd printing of Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter. One of 2 things on the Legends list I've yet to read. -The Dark Heart short story was originally published online, so it's here legally (link straight from Wookiepedia I sure hope it's legal). -I have no idea how to get to the Graphic Novels normally but I trust they're on eBay and co. -I've only talked about legal options but obviously, there's more. Act with discretion and I'm not posting links like that here. I might be able to help more through DMs but you know.

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orbdotexe · 7 months

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decided Fuck It We Ball, and now I'm putting together Lore Bits important to The Forsaken Exile, so here we are after way too long of trying to find the names of them. if you even care:

—

Post-Red War private celebration - Short and sweet, making fun of Cayde! Important to those characters in particular—Zavala, Cayde, Ikora, and Wolf. Common point of reference in memory lane-type thought spirals.

The Young Wolf's Howl and its promise - Obviously. A promise Wolf still carries, and one Saladin believes them to now either be delusional for or mocking him with by continuing to carry it, especially after murdering Lakshmi.

Aunor accuses/suggests the Guardian could've lied about Cayde's death - The interaction itself is non-canon to Exile, but the initial viewpoint of Wolf on Aunor's side stands very strong, and very wide-spread. The guilt on Ikora's side stands as well.

The Sundial - Always good lore, but specifically the end part of Osiris and Drifter's conversation. That interaction is the context to the Drifter short (or, A Questionably Fortunate Encounter).

Drifter's hallucinations from The Nine - Aids in understanding why, shortly before Beyond Light, Drifter hints to Elsie that there's Something Wrong, and it might be worthwhile to teach Wolf how to control Stasis. While not entirely certain, he recognized the signs of someone trying to ignore whatever they were seeing or feeling, and connected the dots.

Important because of Prime Brainrot: "For Fear of the Conquering Hero" - Actually the name of another page in the same lore book, but thought I'd shove it out here too. As Cayde is still alive in Exile, it's not wholly canon. Honestly not sure of its level of canon at all, as I've no idea what to do with Shin in TFE. But this specific lore page ("A Fire Inside") always makes my brain scream, so have it. Quite honestly, the entire lorebook screams at me, but this one and "Echoes Followed By Silence" in particular.

#because i may be rewriting the story but i sure do love Lore!!#the forsaken exile #destiny 2 #< might as well main tag! Beeg Lore! and even if this is for an AU. everyone should be exposed to new lore. always #hm. it seems quite a bit of Exile lore was propped up by Drifter and that box of characters/storylines.#i know more about him than i thought i did! amazing #anyway yeah trying to find specific loretabs by searching 'drifter' is hell. i read so many #not a bad thing mind you #just. oughhhgghghgh i went through so many pages on ishtar. sifting through all of it #should've just checked First Knife's Drifter posts... i probably wouldve found these there-#THANKFULLY i remembered with Shin lmao so didnt have to do as much digging! still had to dig through the lorebook but hey #anyway yeah i am never okay about Exile. never #even if i give up on it for some reason. i will be haunted by it far into the future #but anyway. you should definitely read the entire lorebook from Shin. its only 5 pages and its great - exile or no #but i WANT it to be canon. problem is how does that even work #Drifter again?? they're working together so. feasible i think #this is what i get for adapting canon lore instead of going the *sane* way of writing an AU

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ao3commentoftheday · 3 months

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Bear with me here because I might end up torturing this particular metaphor, but when it comes to trying to get the image of a scene onto the page in the form of descriptive narrative, it might be useful to approach it like a visual artist.

If you've ever watched an artist do their thing (or if you're an artist yourself), you know that they don't just start at the top left corner of the page and draw the entire scene in all its detail, all in one go. I'm going to use an example of digital drawing with the use of software like Photoshop here because I have no idea if this metaphor will work with pencil and paper.

You have an image in your head. It might be super clear. It might be more vague. When you're starting to describe it, just sketch it in. Create a layer of broad strokes information like what the location is, how many people are in it, and what activity is happening.

Then add in a layer - whichever one is easiest. Let's pretend it's the location. Read through the sketch that you currently have and see where you have opportunities to describe the location. You don't have to front load everything at the top of the chapter, for example. You can add in details about the location as the characters move through it.

Add another layer. Are the characters' appearances different from what they previous were? Are you just establishing them at the start of the story? Do they have a "uniform" that they wear in canon that you've opted not to change? You can add in whatever details here you want, and again don't feel like you have to put it all in the same place. You can talk about a ponytail falling loose partway through an action. Or wait until someone else comments on a character's new pair of shoes.

Add another layer. What are the characters doing? How are they moving? Interacting?

Another layer. What are they saying? How do they sound?

Another layer. What other sounds are in the room? What smells? Do these change? Appear or disappear?

Keep going back and forth, toggling your way through your layers, adding things in here and removing them there. Every artist knows that sometimes a line just doesn't go in the right place and you have to erase it and draw it again.

Remember that no amount of work will give your reader a perfect representation of the vision in your mind, but also please know that that's okay.

By the time you finish your scene, some of those early layers might not exist anymore, and that's okay too. They were the sketch that started your verbal drawing. The base you used to guide your inks. Your final render won't have every line or brush stroke in it, and it'll be all the better for it in the end.

#someone added tags asking how to do this #and it got me thinking about how I approach it #on the rare occasions when I want my characters in something other than a blank room.

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caparrucia · 1 year

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Full offense and pun fully intended, but I genuinely think the very existence of "dead dove, do not eat" was a fucking canary in the mines, and no one really paid attention.

Because the tag itself was created as a response to a fandom-wide tendency to disregard warnings and assume tagging was exaggerated. And then the same fucking idiots reading those tags describing things they found upsetting or disturbing or just not to their taste would STILL click into the stories and give the writer's grief about it.

And as a response writers began using the tag to signal "no, really, I MEAN the tags!"

But like.

If you really think about it, that's a solution to a different problem. The solution to "I know you tagged your story appropriately but I chose to disregard the tags and warnings by reading it anyway, even though I knew it would upset me, so now I'm upset and making it your problem" is frankly a block, a ban and wide-spread blacklisting. But fandom as a whole is fucking awful at handling bad faith, insidious arguments that appeal to community inclusion and weaponize the fact most people participating in fandom want to share the space with others, as opposed to hurting people.

So instead of upfront ridiculing this kind of maladaptive attempt to foster one's own emotional self-regulation onto random strangers on the internet, fandom compromised and came up with a redundant tag in a good faith attempt to address an imaginary nuance.

There is no nuance to this.

A writer's job is to tag their work correctly. It's not to tag it exhaustively. It's not even to tag it extensively. A writer's sole obligation, as far as AO3 and arguably fandom spaces are concerned, is to make damn sure that the tags they put on their story actually match whatever is going on in that story.

That's it.

That's all.

"But what if I don't want to read X?" Well, you don't read fic that's tagged X.

"But what if I read something that wasn't tagged X?" Well, that's very unfortunate for you, but if it is genuinely that upsetting, you have a responsibility to yourself to only browse things explicitly tagged to not include X.

"But that's not a lot of fic!" Hi, you must be new here, yes, welcome to fandom. Most of our spaces are built explicitly as a reaction to There's Not Enough Of The Thing I Want, both in canon and fandom.

"But there are things on the internet that I don't like!" Yeah, and they are also out there, offline. And, here's the thing, things existing even though we personally dislike or even hate or even flat out find offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable existing is the price we pay to secure our right to exist as individuals and creators, regardless of who finds US personally unpleasant, hateful or flat out offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable.

"But what about [illegal thing]?!" So the thing itself is illegal, because the thing itself has been deemed harmful. But your goddamn cop-poisoned authoritarian little heart needs to learn that sometimes things are illegal that aren't harmful, and defaulting to "but illegal!" is a surefire way to end up on the wrong side of the fascism pop quiz. You're not a figure of authority and the more you demand to control and exercise authority by command, rather than leadership, the less impressive you seem. You know how you make actual, genuine change in a community? You center harm and argue in good faith to find accommodations and spread awareness of real, actual problems.

But let's play your game. Let's pretend we're all brainwashed cop-abiding little cogs that do not own a single working brain cell to exercise critical thinking with. 99% of the time, when you cry about any given thing "being illegal!!!" you're correct only so far as the THING itself being illegal. The act or object is illegal. Depiction of it is not. You know why, dipshit? Because if depiction of the thing were illegal, you wouldn't be able to talk about it. You wouldn't be able to educate about it. You wouldn't be able to reexamine and discuss and understand the thing, how and why and where it happens and how to prevent it. And yeah, depiction being legal opens the door for people to make depictions that are in bad taste or probably not appropriate. Sure. But that's the price we pay, creating tools to demystify some of the most horrific things in the world and support the people who've survived them. The net good of those tools existing outweighs the harm of people misusing them.

"You're defending the indefensible!" No, you're clumsily stumbling into a conversation that's been going on for centuries, with your elementary school understanding of morality and your bone-deep police state rot filtering your perception of reality, and insisting you figured it out and everyone else at the table is an idiot for not agreeing with you. Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down and read a goddamn book.

#shut up rie

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loriache · 1 month

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Butch up that Elf: my Marcille manifesto

TBQH, this came into being because the Falin "dragoness" fanart rewired my brain completely. It's sillytimes, but we're going to make a serious argument: trying out being a little butch would Fix Her.

1. Marcille Gender Discomfort

Now, Marcille LOVES feminity. She loves playing dressup, she loves elaborate gowns, she spends her free time going to the spa - the absolute last thing I want is to deny that. However, there's also a definite vibe that this isn't just a preference. Specifically, the way that she pushes Falin towards femininity suggests that she isn't comfortable with gender nonconformity in the people around her.

If this was something she was 100% confident about ("I'm doing this for myself and nobody else!") surely what other people do wouldn't be a big deal? Of course, you can read this as a little bit of solipsism; "what works for me must work for you too! I think this is so cute and would suit you - wouldn't you agree?"

But for the sake of this argument, all I'm trying to suggest is that gender nonconformity (and probably sexual nonconformity... well, frankly, any kind of sexuality at all) is unlikely to be something that's on Marcille's "radar". She hasn't tried out other ways of presenting and decided she doesn't like them. I do think she'd be a very flamboyant butch - "ouji lolita" vibes, you know? It's a whole new set of wardrobe options she could play dress-up in, even.

After the story ends, she starts dressing like her mother in all black, which makes sense - her mother was also a court magician, so she's probably emulating her in order to project confidence and authority. But I can't say I think she should stick with this. Break away and be your own person, Marcille! Try a fancy waistcoat and frilled jacket!

2. Haircut

This is another potential hard sell, I'm sure. The people she loves doing her hair is a cute symbol of their care for her, and her hair is key to her magic - so there's plenty of reason for her to keep it long. But like... think practically. Having someone do your hair every morning, for the whole of her long life, while it gets messier over the day (because she can't remember to keep it neat)... That's got to be such a pain. My hair gets messy when I put a hoodie on. And I have short hair.

It would require her to go through a change of mind, and probably a little more growth in how secure she feels in her relationships, but - the hairdo's a symbol. The more important thing is the relationships themselves. Eventually I think there might be something liberating about cutting it off, even if she might eventually decide to grow it out again.

The lion, her trauma, took something away from her which was really important to her. The people around her are able to make that easier, and make up for it, and soften that loss, but... Mithrun isn't the person he was before, you know? He's a new person. The relationship he has with his brother is new, and I don't know if it's one that the person he was before could have had. If Falin hadn't died, they wouldn't have gone on that wonderful adventure! They wouldn't have met Senshi or saved Izutsumi and Laios and Marcille wouldn't have gotten so close. So I think it's totally congruent with the themes of the story that the burning away of this part of Marcille's self might eventually create the potential for new growth in a new direction, not clinging onto the parts that are gone.

This also isn't totally out of the norm for elven mages - both Otta and Flamela have short hair. Otta is canonically butch, and potentially Flamela reads that way to elves too, but the point is it clearly is possible to be an accomplished mage without long hair.

3. Desiring (to be) a chivalrous prince

Marcille's succubus is clearly General Halleus from her favourite book series, the Daltian Clan. The fact that this is her ideal man.... it certainly plays into readings of her as Not Straight. But at least, this conveys the way her conception of sex and romance is strongly idealised, dissociated from the bodily and from physical desire.

There are many ways to interpret that, including thinking about what types of desire this fixation is obstructing because she is not comfortable with it, but I am going to focus here on what this desire does signify. She likes the trappings of courtly romance, and is clearly comfortable putting herself in the role of the princess, being taken away on a white horse by a noble (but tormented; eyepatch has "death" on it lmao) prince. (Though I think he's actually the token male lead who isn't royalty; he's a General. There's always one in Romfan, lmao. IYKYK)

A kiss on the hand - this is so chaste, I think it's clear it's more about desire to play a role in a dynamic than it is about desire in a physical sense. There is undoubtedly a big part of Marcille that wants to be a beloved and chased-after princess, but I think it isn't at all impossible that she'd also enjoy being the powerful, cool, and chivalrous "prince" to someone (a pretty girl, perhaps) who needs her protection.

This is a little silly, because it's clearly just aping the shoujo artstyle that articulates basically the same idea as her succubus, that Marcille is attached to highly abstracted and idealised romantic (and Romantic) tropes and ideas. But the imaginary "successful" Marcille from chapter 4 looks quite similar to her succubus. (Another thing I noticed is that in the fantasy she has sharp ears... like full elves have. Despite what she says, I think the cultural messaging that this trait is "attractive" and hers are inferior got to her at least a bit. 😥)

Also, the way that she treats Falin, scolding her indulgently, trying to look after her and wanting to be looked up to and respected by her... that aligns more with the "masculine" role in the trope that her succubus is referencing. "What are we going to do with you...?" I can imagine her saying this to Falin, word for word. Whereas, if anyone real started talking down to her, even affectionately, I don't think she'd like it, given the negative way she reacts when people don't respect her or her skills. Especially after canon, given the way the Winged Lion was treating her.

Her attitude to Falin is partially down to her reluctance to acknowledge Falin as an adult, who is independent and can grow beyond her and leave her behind. But I think even as they move on from that unhealthy dynamic, Marcille is still going to get pleasure from feeling capable, reliable, able to look after and protect Falin. She'd like to pull the chair out for her in a restaurant on a date, you know?

4. Conclusion

Even after the growth she goes through during the story, there are parts of Marcille's character that are very much obstructed. Romance, sexuality, and gender, feel like one of those to me. The way that her discomfort with the messy origins of food betrayed a deeper, more significant discomfort with the cycles of life and death.

Much in the same way, I'd argue that the simplified, idealistic, and safely fantastical way that she views romance, as well as her very "safe" gender presentation and tendency to push it onto others as well, suggest an underlying discomfort in her own gender and sexuality. The character growth she goes through leaves her in a place where it may be possible to safely re-evaluate her relationship with Falin, as well as her choice of clothing and hairstyle, both things that go through a change at the end of the manga. Neither, I think, reach a sustainable stopping point that we see - there will be a point when it's more servants doing her hair than friends, just out of practicality, because they're all going to be so, so busy. The black clothing to copy her mum is cute, but once she gets some more self-confidence in her own skills as a court magician, I think she'll move on from it. And... who knows what direction her relationship with Falin will develop, over the years? I'm rooting for them, anyway.

In all those cases, I think moving outside of the things she's done before, into something really different from the things that are "safe" and expected, will be the most rewarding path for her. Like in the dungeon, things that she would initially reject were actually able to sustain her and broaden her tastes. She loves dressing up, looking after people, and "princely romance". So I say: Butch Marcille! It'll be good for her!!

#og post #marcille donato #falin x marcille #farcille #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi meta #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #dunmeshi

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lavender-devotion · 1 month

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Hi Hi! I wasn't sure if you're open but can I request a Alastor x reader who is a charlie's older sister and she is alastor's fiance. They never told their hotel friends, basically they're in a secret relationship, until Lucifer arrived (from episode 5 dad beat dad) and announced she's engaged. but no body knew who her fiance was until alastor popped up behind her and pressed a kiss on her. Charlie's happy and Lucifer D:

As soon as I saw this request I immediately ran to make this meme, lmao I'm sorry 😭

anywho, here we go lmao

Summary: You’re Lucifer's eldest and, much like Charlie, you’re desperate to have his support and approval---he’s your dad, of course you are. So, when he finally visits the hotel, you can't wait to tell him that you're engaged. And he's overjoyed...that is, until he finds out that you're engaged to the Radio Demon. What happens when your fiancé and your dad start feuding over you, forcing you to pick a side? Your family, or the love of your life?

Tags: Alastor x Fem!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), Reader is Lucifer's Eldest, Secret Relationship, Lucifer has a heart attack bc Alastor, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, we're just gonna pretend Alastor has been at the hotel a longer time than in canon bc Plot, Charlie is a Good Sister TW: None <3 Word Count: 2.6k Read it on Ao3 <3

When you'd first met Alastor, you had been…skeptical of him, to say the least.

To be completely honest, you’d hated him—and that was putting it lightly. You hated how condescending he was, you hated the fact that he clearly had ulterior motives, you hated that he kept everything about himself a secret, you hated his damn smile, you hated…him!

And the feeling was definitely mutual.

Alastor hated your obvious distrust of him, he hated the fact that you neither feared nor respected him, he hated the way you’d constantly tell Charlie and the others to be wary of him, he hated the way you always seemed to get in the way of his plans, he hated…you!

And no matter how many lessons Charlie had on friendship and trust—lessons that she forced the two of you to attend, I might add—or how many lectures about how the two of you needed to get along or how much she begged the two of you to stop fighting, nothing ever worked.

But…then something changed.

At some point between then and now, the two of you began to soften and learn more about each other---often against your will, and your wishes---and you found...that you had more in common than previously thought.

You both preferred radio to television, you both had a love and penchant for cooking, you both enjoyed quite a few of the same novels, and on and on it went. And those similarities brought the two of you closer together and, although neither of you ever wanted to admit it, you actually began to get along. Eventually, after enough time had passed, the two of you managed to forget why you didn't get along in the first place---all of it becoming a distant memory.

Of course, one thing led to another, and now you were lucky enough to have a pretty little ring on your left hand---not married yet, but soon to be.

Obviously none of the others knew about any of this, by both of your wishes. You were both private people and, knowing everyone else, they would ask questions and the two of you would end up having to spill your entire life's stories to finally get them to leave it be---and even that wasn't guaranteed!

So, to avoid the drama of it all, you just...kept things quiet. Private.

It wasn't particularly hard---Alastor wasn't much of a PDA person, especially in public; neither of you were particularly big fans of pet names; your dates were always fairly simple; and the two of you had your own jobs within the hotel to attend to, so half the time you weren't even in each other's presence.

It was...nice. Having someone to lean on, being able to see another side of Alastor---and having him all to yourself. No one else had him like you did, and you preferred it that way. Of course, though, all good things had to come to an end.

Your and Charlie's father, Lucifer, was coming to the hotel for the first time and---knowing him---it'd be the last, so now was possibly your only chance to tell him about your engagement in person.

Part of you was nervous, considering that you hadn't even told him---or anyone else---you were dating someone and now you were just going to spring an engagement on all of them, but another part of you was relieved and excited. Obviously, you would miss the privacy, but who knew? Maybe everyone's constant curiosity wouldn't bother you as much as you thought, and you might actually end up enjoying a more public relationship.

One where you could kiss him whenever you pleased, instead of being forced to wait until the two of you were alone; one where you could wish him goodbye with an "I love you," instead of snarky "don't die" on the way out; one where you could simply blow off any potential suitors with an "I'm married," instead of having to convince them that you really weren't interested in dating. Maybe all of that would be nice too.

"Nervous?" Alastor asked, the static overlay of his voice drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned away from the mirror you were looking into, instead turning your attention to your beloved---his ever-present smile softening as he looked at you.

"A little, I just..." you sighed, "I just want this to go well, but---knowing my dad---he's going to freak out and it'll be a whole thing."

He chuckled and stepped forward until he was close enough to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face, "not to worry, my dear, I'm sure everything will go just fine."

"But-"

"And if it doesn't," he continued, "I'll be by your side to help you fix it all. You won't be alone."

You smiled and let him draw you into a chaste kiss, some of your tension dissipating in his presence. Somehow he always knew how to make you feel better.

"What would I ever do without you?" You asked, gently cupping his face.

He tilted his head slightly to press another kiss to your palm, "you'll never have to find out."

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of Charlie's voice made its way up to your shared room, introducing everything and everyone in the hotel to---who you assumed to be---your father. So there was no more preparing yourself for it, now you just had to do. Besides, maybe Alastor was right, maybe he'd take the announcement better than you thought.

There was only one way to find out.

----------

"WHAT??? HIM???"

He did not, in fact, take it better than you thought.

You tried to wait for the perfect time to break the news, but---of course---your dad had immediately spotted the ring on your finger- (a detail that, somehow, everyone else had missed) -and pressed you for more information, his actual reason for visiting long forgotten. By both him and everyone else, apparently.

Getting a meeting with Heaven was suddenly playing second fiddle to everyone's curiosity about who you'd been dating behind their backs---who you were now engaged to. So, after a lot of pressing and pressing, you'd finally relented and admitted that it was Alastor. Which had led to...all of this.

Charlie was vibrating off the walls, everyone else was in various states of shock, and your dad...looked like he was in the middle of a mental breakdown.

"You can't- I mean-" He laughed, more than a little hysterical, "you're not actually engaged to him, are you?"

Before you could answer, Alastor cut in---a sharp edge coloring his tone.

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Your father's attention switched from you to Alastor, practically seething as he looked at him. You couldn't see Alastor's face from your place beside him, but you could tell that the feeling was mutual by the crackling electricity that crawled across your skin.

"Have you ever fucking met you?" Your father asked incredulously.

"Yes, and I'm very lucky to have her," Alastor responded, punctuating his statement with a gentle kiss on your cheek---a kiss obviously done just to piss your father off, since you knew Alastor wasn't exactly fond of public affection.

The tension was thick in the air as the two just stood there, glaring at each other.

Then finally, your father laughed.

"Alright then..."

Jazzy, upbeat, music suddenly came out of nowhere, and—before you had any time to process what was happening—you were drawn into your father’s song and dance number, the world around you shifting to follow his words.

“Looks like you could use some help, from the big boss of Hell himself! Obviously, since I don’t know how you could’ve felt that this–”

One voice, “Bastard!”

Two, “Jackass!”

Three, “Arrogant piece of shit!”

Back to your father, “–would ever make a suitable husband! Especially for you, did you forget?”

He twirled you around until you were in an elegant dress and crown, falling backwards onto a throne.

“You’re a princess of Hell, so better yet! Rather than an old outdated crook—who’s probably just using you for your station, at least from the looks—why not let your dad give you pick of the lot?” He snapped his fingers, new people appearing with every beat, “men, women, or those in between; outgoing royalty or someone serene, anything but this walking tomato lookin’ prick—you could have anyone, so just take your pick!”

A streak of shadow suddenly shoved your father to the side, Alastor appearing in his place with a charming grin—his shadow twirling around you like it was trying to hold you.

“My dear it’s true that you’re one of a kind—everything anyone could ask for, a very rare find,” he knelt before you and kissed your hand, “I’m a very lucky sinner to call you my own, to stand by your side as you sit on your throne.”

He then moved to sit on the arm of your throne, pulling you into his side, “however I have to agree that someone around here is a crook, but it’s certainly not me, so let’s take a look!”

The first person he picked out of the crowd was Charlie, his shadow minions bringing her forward dressed in her own royal attire, “your darling sister, who’s been by your side—supporting you through your troubles, high or low tide!”

Next came the other residents, dressed in their own fancy clothing, although less detailed than yours and your sister’s, “your close hotel friends, do you dare suspect them? Even though they’ve proven they’d follow you to the end?”

Finally he knelt in front of you again, dressed in his own royal attire and placing a golden ring on your left ring finger, “or do you truly think it could be me, your doting husband-to-be? Could I be the traitor despite the love, trust, and devotion I’ve given to you, or everything I’ve done to prove that my affection is true?”

“Of course not! You know that, so why don’t you see?” Suddenly your father was shoved forward like a criminal, the shadows dressing him in peasant style clothing, “the only traitor around here is this snake, does he take you for Eve?”

“Excuse me?” Your father asked incredulously, pushing back the shadows and reappearing in his usual clothing.

“Trying to lead you to darkness with his tricks and lies, wanting you to be miserable and lonely instead of by my side.”

“Hold on now–” “All this unsupportive jargon, telling you how you should live your life,” Alastor practically snarled, looking your father dead in the eye, “no wonder that this bastard was left by his wife.”

Your head was left spinning as things quickly switched between your father playing a golden fiddle, to your fiance interrupting him on a vintage piano—the two practically seething at each other before turning their attention back to you.

First Alastor, “my dear, why don’t you pick your own path, instead of listening to this stick in the mud?”

Then your father, “why choose a shitty partner over your own blood?”

And that is how it went.

“And pick a deadbeat father, nothing more than a dud? Wouldn’t you rather find happiness with the family you choose?”

Over.

“Yeah, sure, pick a bunch of losers–”

And over.

“Can you butt out of my song?”

And over.

“Your song? I started this!”

Until finally– “I’m singing it, I’ll finish it!”

You had had enough.

“Oh you tacky piece of sh–”

"JUST STOP!" You shouted, bringing their argument to a screeching halt and drawing a deadly silence into the room, "for fuck's sake---how can the two of you not see your own hypocrisy?! Even when it's sitting right in front of you!"

The two of them stared at you, wide eyed, but you kept going before they could respond.

"You're arguing over what's best for me, while not even fucking asking me what I want! This isn't even about me, this is about the two of you hating each other," you took a breath, desperately blinking back tears, "well you know what? BOTH of you are hurting me! BOTH of you are ignoring my wishes! BOTH of you are treating me like shit! And I don't want to fucking be around EITHER OF YOU!"

And without another word you turned on your heel and left the hotel.

----------

The moment you heard footsteps coming near you, you flipped around and snarled---prepared to snap at your father or Alastor, whichever one decided to come kiss your ass to one-up the other. But, instead, you only found Charlie standing behind you, a concerned look on her face.

You immediately turned away from her and wiped your eyes, not wanting your little sister to see you like this, but she didn’t seem to mind—just sitting beside you and resting her head on your shoulder as you sniffled.

After a moment, you broke the silence.

“I just…I don’t understand,” you said, voice shaking, “they’ve known each other for five fucking minutes and already hate each other. Why can’t they just get along for me? Do I seriously matter that little to them?”

Charlie was quiet for a moment, mind churning.

“I don’t necessarily think that’s it,” her voice was quiet as she spoke, as if she was thinking through each word, “I think that, for the first time ever, both of them are dealing with the fact that they might not be the most important man in your life and…I guess this is just their way of reacting to that.”

You turned to her, eyebrows raising, and she continued to explain.

“Family is important to you, Alastor knows that, but he hasn’t had to…complete, I guess, with anyone for his place by your side before—so, when dad showed up and openly disapproved of him, I think he just got scared that you’d leave him because of what dad thinks,” she took a breath, still thinking through her words, “dad, on the other hand, has always been the one who you’d run to for everything—if you were scared, sad, happy, or needed help, he was the one you’d go to. Now you have Alastor and that’s who you go to for everything, so I think dad just got scared that you wouldn’t need him anymore now that you’re getting married.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” she added wryly, squeezing your arm with a smile.

You gave her a small smile back, “how’d you ever get to be so smart?”

“I learned from the best.”

You sighed, “I just wish they’d get over themselves, I can—in fact—have more than one important man in my life, there’s not a fucking limit.”

“Yeah well…men can be stupid, I guess.”

You snorted and pulled her close, gently ruffling her hair, “you’ve got that right…between you and me, though, I like you better than both of them.”

Charlie giggled and hugged you, the two of you inseparable, just like when you were kids. You took a little longer to just breathe and enjoy the sweet moment with your sister, before finally releasing her.

She then got up and dusted off her suit, bright smile now firmly back in place, “now, let’s head back! I’m pretty sure Vaggie’s already got them working on their apologies, and I already have so many ideas for a new lesson plan on: selflessness and communication!”

You shook your head, but didn’t manage to quite hide your smile. Whatever happened, at least you would always have Charlie by your side…and Alastor and your father, if the two could manage not to kill each other.

“Those apologies better not be in fucking song format.”

“…I’ll text Angel.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #devotion's posts: requests🪻#devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻

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dudeitiskarev · 14 days

Text

If You Only Knew | Aaron Hotchner

My One and Only prequel

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau female reader

Summary: Broken hearts find each other and in the process, they mend each other.

Word count: 10.7k

Tags/warnings: season 10 Hotch <3; cheating (on reader); food and alcohol consumption; Hotch has a soft spot for reader<3; lazy case talk whoops; canon typical violence; one bed trope; smut: unprotected and dirty office sex (p in v); secret relationship; stolen glances and kisses in forbidden places!!1!

Author’s note: I don’t usually do second parts mostly because I wrap up the story in a single one shot, but while writing the first fic I had this prequel in mind because oh boy, they have HISTORY (which is why it ended up being longer than My One and Only). Both can be read as a stand alone. First fic was based on Dress by miss T. Swift, and this one is like a mash up of every Taylor’s ovulation songs (I listened to this playlist a lot while writing this) 🙂‍↔️ Call It What You Want x I Can See You being the main inspo. Or were the songs inspired by them???🧐 it’s just so sexy sexy. Anyway, hope you enjoy!!!!

MASTERLIST

There used to be an engagement ring on your right hand.

A bright but simple ring that from the moment it was given to you, had you hopeful about your future. That future had always been uncertain. You rarely pictured yourself more than two years ahead, to begin with—for many reasons, neither worth mentioning—but no matter how long your future was, you were sure it was going to be just as bright as your ring.

And how wrong you were…

It hadn’t been more than two months since your fiancé promised you the world when you caught him in a lie. You’d let it slip away, fidgeting your ring as a reminder that he was the one.

If you hadn’t ignored the signs, you would’ve saved yourself from getting your heart ripped out.

He cheated, and even worse, you caught him in the act, with another woman in your own bed. You stormed out leaving every door open. Zac came running behind you, yelling your name, but you didn’t stop. You ripped the engagement ring off your finger and threw it at him without looking back. That clink of the band bouncing on the pavement was so faint compared to the sound of your castle crumbling, and your prince kept yelling at you to come back.

You didn’t. You got in your car and drove off aimlessly.

You’d been driving around the city blasting music since then, and yelling the lyrics hoping you’d go numb. You didn’t, but at least you had some clarity.

You had nowhere to be. There was no home anymore, no bed to sleep on, and no arms to run to. The place you used to call home now was stained with lies and haunted by another woman.

The only place that could shelter you for the night was the BAU. At the end of the day, that was your home. You spent most of your days there with the people you worked with. People who would take a bullet for you. They were your family—Derek being the one you loved the most—but you couldn’t run to him or any of them right now. The wound was too fresh and letting them see you like this would be disappointing and just… sad. They’ve always known you as a tough and reasonable woman. How were you supposed to tell them you weren’t that smart now that your entire relationship crumbled?

You parked at your usual spot and searched for your emergency go bag in the backseat. It was always stocked with everything you needed for at least a week. You weren’t planning on staying at the BAU for an entire week, of course, but also, you never knew. Your ex was capable of lighting your house on fire just to get rid of any evidence of his betrayal so for now, that bag was all you had.

You took a deep breath and made your way inside the building. You walked through security as you always did and smiled at the night guard. It was Rick, the oldest of them all but you felt the safest when he was at the door.

“What brings you here at this hour, young lady?” Rick adjusted his ivy cap.

It was past three in the morning.

“Piled up paperwork,” you merely said.

And he didn’t question you. “Oh, sure,” he answered politely with his old, raspy voice.

You smiled at him and made your way to the elevator, pushing the number six as you always did. You kicked the bag with your knee until the doors dinged open.

Not a single soul received you.

You walked past the glass doors and reached your desk, looking up at Hotch’s office that was right across. He had a couch there that you could use as your bed for a few hours. Everyone has slept there at least once— for whatever reason—and now it was your turn. You marched up the short stairs and paused. You knew his office remained unlocked (he once said that he’d lost the key, but deep down you knew he left it open in case anyone needed somewhere to crash for the night).

You knocked, just in case, and once there was no answer, you twisted the knob. His perfume was faint in the air—soft and woody—so it was easy to assume he’d left not long ago. You closed the door behind you and walked to the couch, leaving your bag there and turning the lamp on.

The dim light triggered the memories of the moment that tore you apart hours earlier: Another woman riding your fiancé. They even dared to light up romantic candles.

Your fucking candles.

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You wasted three years of your life and now with a cool head, you realized it was in your hands how you handled it. It could either be the best thing that's happened to you or you could let it drag you down.

Right then, you decided the first option was the only one. You stood there, both hands on your hips, your chin up and took a deep breath, filling your lungs with air until your chest swelled.

This was going to be the only night you’d let yourself mourn your relationship. No tears. Just you and a glass of scotch. It wasn’t your drink of choice but it was all Hotch kept in his office and you knew exactly where he kept the bottle (right under his espresso machine García had gotten him for his birthday a couple of years ago). You crouched down and opened the little cabinet. The bottle was almost full and you wondered if it was brand new or if he rarely drank. You shrugged it off. You poured yourself some and began pacing around his office.

You’ve been here a million times and you’d never paid much attention to all the things he had. There were quite a few awards granted by the bureau displayed on the wall behind his desk; a bunch of books, too. You ran your fingers through them as you walked from end to end. He had a picture of Jack and Haley over his desk and you looked around, searching for a picture of Beth. Your eye landed on her contagious smile, over the little table by his couch. You walked there to get a better look at the picture. She was looking at the camera and he was looking at her. You’d met her a few times and it was nice seeing Hotch in love again. After Haley, everyone thought he’d refuse to let someone in again, but when love knocks on your door there’s not much you can do.

You sighed deeply and placed your empty glass in front of the picture. The alcohol was making you sleepy so you made yourself comfortable. You went to brush your teeth, put on your pajamas and fuzzy socks, made a blanket out of your blazer, and used your folded pants as a pillow.

You rubbed your feet together. It wasn’t a cold night, but you wished you didn’t have to spend it alone.

The constant sound of a pen scraping on paper gradually woke you up.

Shit.

You meant to sleep only a few hours and have Hotch’s office as it was before he got here; pretend you’d gotten there earlier than everyone. You must’ve slept through your alarm.

You slowly squinted your eyes open and caught Hotch sitting at his desk, brows low in deep thought.

How long has he been there?

“Hotch.” You rubbed your eyes and sat upright. “Hi. Sorry, I— What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty,” he answered, never taking his eyes off the file.

So you didn’t sleep through your alarm.

“When did you get here? I didn’t hear you.”

“A few minutes ago.” He put the pen down and lifted his head to look at you. His face softened.

He didn’t seem upset about you invading his office but you still felt the need to explain yourself. “I, uh, stayed until late last night and I was too sleepy to drive and—” You realized mid-sentence how bad you were lying.

But he let you.

“It’s not a problem, you can always sleep here. As long as it’s not already taken.” He stared at you for a moment, rubbing his thumb with the rest of his fingers. You wondered how bad you looked. How bad everything seemed. “It has a foldable seat,” was all he said, gesturing at the couch. “There’s a blanket under it.”

“Oh, thanks. It wasn’t that cold.” You braced yourself.

It was cold now.

“You can sleep for another hour,” he added.

“We don’t have a case?”

“No.” He glanced at the open door and then back at you. “Not yet anyway.”

Then why was he here so early?

You smiled at him and began to gather your things anyway. “Thank you, but I still should go. I’m… invading your space.”

“Oh, please. Don’t worry about it,” he said before going back to work on his paper.

Even if he didn’t mind you sleeping there while he worked, you did. You stood up, stretched your neck a bit, and began to fold all of your clothes, putting them back in your bag.

You felt his eyes on you every once in a while and just when you grabbed the evidence of your late night—the empty glass of scotch—he asked, “Is everything alright?”

You looked at him. There was that soft look again.

“Yeah, I just…” you trailed off, fidgeting with your now invisible ring. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He didn’t have to say anything. He knew. You knew he knew just by that look he gave you. Wise. Emphatic. The ‘I’ve been there before’ look.

He opened his mouth to add something, but his phone buzzed on the table, making him tear his eyes off you. He sighed as his brows lowered.

“Now we have a case?” You asked and he nodded. “I’ll put on some work-appropriate clothes, then.” You looked down at your pajamas.

“Take your time. We’ll meet in thirty.”

The jet took off and the clouds were never-ending.

Two women had been abducted (and murdered) already in Fort Myers before you were invited to investigate. Victimology and M.O. were discussed and you barely said a thing. Your mind kept wandering off to the night before and how miserable you felt. The phantom of betrayal was still heavy on your shoulders.

Hotch sat next to you during the three-hour flight, and the only thing he said to you that wasn’t work-related was: ‘Would you like some coffee’, to which you gladly accepted. His eyes, though, kept asking if you were okay.

Minutes before the jet touched the ground, your phone caught some signal and began to buzz uncontrollably against the table. You already knew who it was so you didn’t bother to glance at the screen, you just sighed in annoyance and put your phone in your pocket. You felt Hotch’s eyes on you again and you tried your best to ignore him.

Right now, he was your boss, not your friend.

The moment the jet doors opened, the dense, humid air stuck to your skin. Everyone groaned in annoyance.

“Ugh, I hate Florida,” Emily commented.

You didn’t mind it. You needed a bit of heat and sun, hoping they’d woosh away the gray cloud over your head.

Hotch assigned everyone’s tasks for the day and partnered you up with Morgan to interview the victims’ families. Smart move. It was known that Morgan was your person inside the team, and even if he didn’t know about your heartbreak right now, he’d surely find out soon after spending the day with you. That’s what Hotch wanted. For you to have someone to talk to if you wanted.

You would’ve preferred to be out in the field instead of inside an office, that way you’d have more distractions. Right now, as you talked to one of the victim’s husbands, your only distraction was your phone. Your ex started to call you again and spam-texting you. He was getting on your nerves and you couldn’t quite focus on your job. The one that you considered was your forte—when it came to good people.

These men weren’t good people. They were exactly like your ex.

And they got on your nerves.

Morgan shot you a frown as he walked the last person out of the office, “What’s going on with you? You almost punched the guy.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb.

“I would’ve if you hadn’t caught me.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m being dead serious, what’s going on with you?”

“He called his dead wife a whore, Morgan.”

“I’m not just talking about this. All morning you’ve been acting weird.”

There was his big brother attitude.

You sighed, shaking your head. You couldn’t not tell him. So you told him. Some of it. “Zac and I are fighting. He keeps calling but I’m not gonna answer yet. He’s gonna have to wait until I’m back.”

“What did he do?” He asked, brows shooting up with concern.

You walked to the small coffee station the sheriff had set up for the team. “We’re just fighting.” You poured yourself some coffee. You couldn’t tell him everything. He was friends with Zac—and a really good one.

“I don’t buy that,” Morgan insisted. “I know what your fights look like. This isn’t a fight over how he didn’t do the dishes.”

You hated how well he knew you. You and Zac. It was sad to think there wouldn’t be any more double dates with him and Savannah.

“I don’t want to talk about it yet,” you merely said.

Morgan let out a huff and glared at you in silence. “Alright.”

He respected you and didn’t bug you any more about it. And neither did Zac, thankfully. The messages and phone calls stopped but even then, you couldn’t get your mind off whatever he wanted to say.

The day went by painfully slowly. Not many leads were found and the unsub seemed to have gone dormant, which meant the investigation was done for the day.

Hotch, JJ, and Rossi were still finishing up a few things with the sheriff, and you decided to wait for them outside, sitting on the sidewalk. There was a dinner reservation at the hotel at nine. It was thirteen past nine and you’d been running on five cups of coffee.

Your stomach rumbled.

Steps came from behind. Morgan silently sat next to you and handed you a protein bar. He sat close, his arm touching yours. “Zac called me.”

“Good for him.” You didn’t bother to look at him. Instead, you began to pick your nails. You weren’t hungry anymore.

“And he told me.” Derek placed one hand over yours, stopping you from destroying your nails.

You shot him a look. “What did he tell you?” You asked because you didn’t think Zac would rat himself out to Morgan.

“I’m on your side,” he said. “He’s my friend, but you’re my sister. He’s dead to me now.” He quirked his brows.

“What did he tell you, Morgan?”

“That you caught him cheating.”

The disappointment on his face was as clear as the night sky.

You tore your eyes off him and sighed.

“I was so stupid.” You rubbed your forehead. “I caught him in lies multiple times and I brushed them all off. Like a part of me wanted that to happen,” you confessed.

“What do you mean? That you didn’t want to marry him?”

“I… I don’t know.” You looked back at Derek. Now that the truth was out you needed to talk about it. Maybe that way you could realize it was all your fault. “I loved him, and he was a great guy but at some point, after the engagement and before the lies, I stopped seeing a future with him. So I guess it’s my fau—”

“Nuh-uh.” Derek interrupted you, placing a finger over your lips. “He did this,” then booped your nose.

You couldn't help but smile. “Yeah but I stopped being… a girlfriend to him,” you explained, moving your hands around to make your point. “I came home late, he’d wait for me with dinner but I just… stopped seeing him.” You sighed. It really was your fault to some extent now that you talked about it. “He sought the attention I stopped giving him on someone else. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want… to be the person who just works and can’t balance it with personal life.”

“It’s tough.”

“Yeah, but you seem to make it work with Savannah.” You nudged his arm.

They had the kind of love you aspired to have one day.

“It took us a while, but we made it work. Still do. It’s a good thing she also has a time-consuming job. She just gets it. But it takes a lot of effort from both parties.”

You nodded in agreement. “Zac and I are over. This isn’t something we can talk about and get through and forget or forgive. He betrayed me.”

Derek hung one arm over your shoulder and kissed your temple. “I know.”

“At least I don’t have to plan a wedding anymore. It seems exhausting.”

“Oh, believe me, it is.”

You gasped and pulled away to look at him. He had a grin on his face now. That’s what you needed. A smile from him even if it made you forget for just a moment. “What? What does that mean? Did you propose?!”

“Whoa, whoa.” Emily came from behind and joined the conversation right away, standing in front of you. “Who’s proposing?”

“Morgan,” you were quick to respond. Anything to avoid anyone else knowing you’d been cheated on.

“Shhh!” He stood up, signaling you both to shut up with a finger over his lips and looking around to make sure no one else heard. “I’m planning to, alright. Don't…. Freak out. She can say no.”

“She’d be silly to say no,” Emily laughed a little. “Are you kidding?”

“You’re already planning the wedding,” you laughed too while standing up. “Don’t pretend you expect her to say no.”

“Of course, she’s gonna say yes.” Derek grinned. “I’m just playin’.”

On the way to the hotel, the team split into two SUVs and Hotch kept glancing at you through the rearview mirror at every red light and stop sign, with that know-it-all look, a pinch of concern. He was worried about you (and soon to be pissed for the stunt you pulled earlier).

You got a triple room with Emily and JJ and you didn’t give them a chance to make any conversation with them since dinner was canceled. You threw your bag over your bed and headed to the rooftop. You figured it’d be the only place none of the team would be. You needed fresh air, and you felt ready to talk to Zac. You reached the rooftop and pulled out your phone. Just the thought of hearing his voice tightened your throat. But you had to. You needed to know what he had to say.

You dialed his number and some agonizing butterflies still managed to flap their wings at the pit of your stomach with that first ‘hey’ on the other line. Tears welled up in your eyes. Your only witness was the moon hanging above and she wouldn’t judge you, so you finally allowed yourself to feel it.

His voice was a stab to your heart and a soft sob got caged in your throat. He said he was sorry, that he missed you, that he loved you. That you will always be the love of his life and that he knew he’d lost you. You muffled your sobs against your hand and once he was done talking, all you could reply was ‘okay’.

Then you hung up.

“Damn it.” You let your phone slip through your fingers to cover your eyes with one hand while you braced yourself with the other arm.

You stood there—for who knows how long—until a pair of unfamiliar arms enveloped you from the front. Their scent, though, was like home—faint and woody bathing you whole. You nestled against their chest and it only made you cry even more.

“Shh. It’s okay.”

Hotch’s voice snapped the knife out of your chest and he wasn’t about to let you bleed out. With one hand he caressed the back of your head, giving you soft scratches. The other rubbed your upper back with short and tender strokes. You weren’t planning on crumbling and you surely didn’t expect Hotch to be the one comforting you, but it felt right. You needed a hug and a gentle voice telling you it was okay to feel like this.

Your entire relationship flashed before your eyes. You were mourning its death, after all., and there was no going back from it. You wouldn’t do that to yourself and had to accept that his laugh would eventually fade away from your memory and his eyes would no longer shine because of you—they haven’t for a while.

You peeled yourself from Hotch’s chest and noticed how his shirt was damp with your tears.

“Sorry, I—” you sniffed; looked up at him.

His soft eyes scanned your face for a moment. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ they asked, a sweet frown taking over his face.

“You look like you need a drink,” he said instead.

You chuckled, nodding, even when the after-crying headache was creeping up on you. You would’ve taken the elevator to the first floor, but Hotch guided you through the staircase.

“Were you up there when I got there?” you asked him.

“No, I went there to clear my head and… found you standing there.”

After all these years working with him, he was still the hardest to read. “Is something bugging you?” you asked him.

“No.”

Okay, then. You understood it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about (with you).

You reached the first floor and headed to the bar. It wasn’t crowded, and Rossi was already there. You two joined him, each at either side of him.

“Ah, FBI agents,” Rossi told the bartender, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re not gonna interrogate me, are you?” he then asked you two.

“I don’t know. Should we?” Hotch asked with a tint of humor.

“You should interrogate her.” He gestured at you by twitching his mouth in your direction. “I heard she almost punched one of the victim’s husbands.”

“Thanks, Rossi.” You glared at him, and he couldn’t have cared less.

“Is that true?” Hotch asked you, leaning a bit forward to glance at you over Rossi, even when the wall in front of you was a whole mirror.

“Goodnight, kid.” Rossi slid off his stool. “Night Hotch. Keep an eye on her.”

“Great.” You glared at him again. “Just throw the grenade and run away.” He just laughed and waved a dismissive hand. He had clearly had quite a few drinks so you couldn’t blame him much.

“Is that true?” Hotch asked again.

“He was a jerk,” you responded, sipping on your drink.

“That has nothing to do with it. Jerk or not, you can’t be acting like that.” His frown grew strong but his voice remained as soft as when he was comforting you moments earlier.

“He cheated on her, Hotch.” You shot him a look through the mirror. “That’s why she went out and got abducted. Murdered.”

“I understand that, but we push our feelings aside, you know that.”

“I know.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Just… let it go, please. You know I won’t do it again.”

“Of course you won’t.” He took a short sip of his drink and looked forward, making eye contact with you through the mirror. “You’d be off the case if you pull something like that again.”

A light bulb lit up over your head right then.

“Do you think that’s why the unsub is targeting the victims?” You grabbed his forearm with excitement. “Because they got cheated on?”

You were right and your tragedy helped save the last woman the unsub had abducted. You wrapped up the case with a bittersweet taste.

On the flight home, Morgan sat next to you, and for some reason, you wished Hotch had sat there.

You searched for him on the jet and he’d chosen to sit farther back. You wanted to thank him for comforting you when he didn’t have to, and as if he’d read your mind—

Good job today—He texted—I know this was a particularly difficult case for you.

You lifted your head and caught him looking at you. You smiled at him as a response.

It was difficult, but it also helped you heal a little.

Morgan nudged your arm gently, gesturing for you to take your headphones off.

“Hm?” you raised your brows.

“Are you planning on going home now?”

You sighed. “I have to.”

“You can stay with me for a few days. Savannah would be thrilled to have you over.”

“Thank you but I think that’d make me feel… small? I have to see him eventually. And I’d rather get it over with soon.” You smiled at him. “After that conversation, though, I’m not sure if I’ll have a place to stay so I’ll let you know if I need a place to crash for the night.”

“I’ll be there, then.”

When you made it to your place, Zac was waiting for you with dinner. You would’ve laughed, but you were too exhausted to even smile at him.

“I’m just here to get my things,” you said, walking past him to your room.

You smelled fresh paint on your way there, and you really laughed then. He’d repainted the whole thing. Did he think changing the wall color would make you forget what happened there?

“It’s your favorite color.” Zac stood at the door.

“You’re unbelievable.” You scoffed.

You threw all your belongings in two suitcases and left.

To never come back.

“You’re getting discharged.” Hotch drew open the curtain of your cubicle.

“What? What about Morgan?” You sat upright, keeping the ice close to the bump on your head. You’d been in a car crash in the middle of a prosecution. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. He just dislocated his shoulder.”

“Well, the doctor said I can’t fly, let alone drive.” You rolled your eyes. “So who’s driving me back to Quantico?”

“I am.” You couldn’t help but let out a huff. “Yeah, I’m not excited about it either.”

“It’s seventeen hours, Hotch. You don’t have to. I’m sure I can take an overnight bus or something.”

“You’re not taking any bus. You got a brain bleed. Someone’s gotta be there if something happens.” He glared at you. “Gather your things. I’ll bring the car. A nurse will walk you out.”

Your things were only your badge and gun. Everything else was still at the hotel, so you assumed you were going to make a stop there before hitting the road back to Quantico.

You were officially discharged by your doctor minutes later and you’d underestimated Hotch’s efficiency. He’d already gone to the hotel to get your things. He even bought snacks—your favorite snacks.

You reclined your seat and threw a blanket over you. Your head was much better but it still hurt despite you being high on painkillers.

“Are you cold? Do you want me to turn the heater on?”

“Not cold.” You assured him. You just wanted to make yourself cozy. “Hotch, I don’t know if I’m gonna handle a seventeen-hour drive.”

“I know.” He gave you a quick glance. “I don’t think I will either. We’ll make a stop if you need to. Just let me know.”

You dozed off and on during the first two hours—your eyes darting to Hotch’s firm hands on the steering wheel—until it started raining. Normally, you would’ve been on high alert since you weren’t a fan of driving when it rained, but it was Hotch who was driving. And he was a great driver.

The sound of the thick drops hitting the windshield turned out to be a perfect lullaby and helped you fall into a deep and cozy slumber. A dream began to take over your mind at some point but it didn’t become one entirely.

Loud noises dragged you out of it.

You blinked your eyes open. You were parked on the side road, and the rain wasn’t normal rain anymore. It was loud, hitting the rooftop like daggers. You feared it might fall through.

“Are those hailstones?” You adjusted the seat back straight.

“Not yet,” Hotch responded. “But we can’t keep driving like this. I can barely see past the hood. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m no weather expert but I’m sure there’s a storm coming.”

Hotch nodded in agreement. “We’ll have to make an emergency stop.” He pulled out his phone and typed something. “There’s a motel 3 miles away. We can spend a few hours there until the storm passes.”

“You just said it’s dangerous to keep driving.”

“It’s more dangerous to stay here or on the side of the road. Plus you need to rest. It’s been a long drive already.”

Long? You glanced at the clock on the radio.

“It’s been six hours already?!” Your eyes widened.

It didn’t feel like it, though.

“You snored half of it.” He teased, his soft dimples making their first appearance of the night.

“I did not,” you laughed a little.

You knew he was just kidding, but you clearly needed those hours of deep sleep. Your headache was much better now.

Hotch kept the blinkers on as he started driving again, slowly until the map on his phone signaled him to turn right.

There was a blue-light vacancy sign glitching.

“This is it?” you asked. The place looked straight out of a horror film and the dark sky didn’t help.

“You stay here,” Hotch ordered. “I’ll check if they have any rooms.”

You didn’t disagree and locked the doors once he stepped out. Just in case.

Minutes later, your phone buzzed.

There’s only one room available, Hotch texted you.

Two beds? you texted back right away.

King, he replied.

Great. It was either sharing a bed with Hotch or staying in the car.

I don’t mind if you don’t, you texted. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Then you added, we’ll only be here a few hours until the rain stops, right?

Yes. Don’t move. I’ll come get you, he replied.

You gathered your things within reach, as gently as possible so your brain wouldn’t get all scrambled by sudden movements and unlocked the doors for Hotch.

He opened the door and ducked his head inside. “It’s the farthest room,” he raised his voice over the loud rain.

“That’s fine,” you matched his tone. “Let’s make one trip. I can carry my things.”

“You sure?” he frowned in an attempt to keep the rain out of his eyes.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” You nodded and stepped out of the car.

Once you had your things and Hotch had his, he took the lead with you walking fast behind him with your head low. You both were already drenched so there was no point in running.

The room was better than what you expected. It welcomed you with warm air, one bed, a small desk facing the window, an old TV, and a bathroom. They even had a small station with a kettle and tea/coffee, and the heater was on

You stripped out some of your clothes right next to the heater and changed your muddy shoes for your slippers.

“Do you mind if I take the bathroom first?” You asked him.

“Not at all,” Hotch replied, ridding himself of some damp clothes.

You walked past him with your bag and locked yourself in the bathroom. You unlocked it right away. What if you passed out? It was going to be a quick shower to regulate your body temperature, but with a brain injury, you never knew.

You were in and out of it in less than ten minutes and Hotch had already changed his clothes to sweatpants and a white t-shirt. It was always so strange seeing him out of his suits.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, hanging his clothes on the improvised drying rack he made out of the single chair and desk and placing it close to the heater.

“A little.” You sat on the left side of the bed.

Hotch grabbed the snack bag and displayed what he’d bought over the bed. Along with your favorite snacks were some fruits and two instant noodle soups. The first time you pulled out one of those, Reid told you all about them and how they were some of the most cancerous foods there could be, but they were a guilty pleasure and you didn’t eat them often.

“Take your pick,” he said. “I’ll take a shower now.”

He was being a good caretaker to you and you trusted him so all you had to do today and tomorrow was obey him. You could shut your brain down when Hotch was around.

You turned the TV on to have some background noise and put on the news. The weather had been catastrophic already in some parts and they said it was going to last at least eight more hours. It was 8 pm so you didn’t mind waiting all night for it to pass. It was a cozy room, after all.

You prepared yourself the instant soup and sat cross-legged on the bed. Your phone buzzed against the mattress.

How’s your head? Morgan texted.

Better. Your shoulder?

I have a good doctor at home so I’ll be alright. How’s the trip going?

The sky is falling here. We had to make a stop for the night.

Sharing a room with the boss? ;)

You didn’t know why he would say that or why you would lie about your answer, but you lied.

Of course not! We’re gonna wait for the rain to pass before hitting the road again.

You hit send right when Hotch came out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.

You put the phone down. “There’s still hot water in the kettle.”

You rarely saw him eat, and since all he bought were things you liked, you assumed he liked them too. He prepared his soup as well and sat on the other side of the bed.

“It looks pretty bad.” He glanced at the TV.

“They said it’s gonna last all night.”

Something was odd about him now. Maybe it was the fatigue of the trip that hit him after the shower. But he kept looking at his phone and putting it down. You saw him clench his jaw more than once.

“Everything okay?” You had to ask.

He gave you a look.

Everything was not okay.

He hesitated a moment, twisting the noodles with his fork but never taking a bite.

“Beth got a job offer in Hong Kong.” Oh. “And she’s boarding the flight now.” Oh, no. “She asked my opinion before taking the job offer.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, I encouraged her to take it. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

You didn’t want him to regret his choice about encouraging her—she put him between a rock and a hard place—but you had a string of questions about it. What if she asked for his opinion because she wanted to stay and settle, but needed him to say it?

“So you let her go,” you said instead and he nodded. “How’s Jack handling it?”

“She talked to him, we took him to Orlando for the weekend and he understood it but”—he sighed—“I know it’s been hard on him, too.” You couldn’t imagine how his son was feeling. He was a kid and he’d lost someone, too. “But we ended it on good terms.” He raised his brows.

“Why did you offer to drive me home?” You asked. “You could be there with her by now. At the airport.”

“We said our goodbyes.” He shook his head and looked down. “It would’ve made it more painful.”

You hummed in agreement. “They say if you love someone, you let them go. If they come back, it means they’re truly yours.” He looked at you. “She could come back.”

His eyes were glassy. For some reason, you felt he was thinking about Haley, too. He was once again losing someone he loved—by choice this time but losing her nonetheless.

“Sorry,” he sort of laughed. “I’m talking about my heartbreak when…”

When you were recently heartbroken too.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m—”

“Fine,” he finished your sentence. “Of course you are.”

“I’m over it and I laugh about it now. I wasted three years of my life. My good years.” You chucked. “It's funny now.”

“It’s not. And you still have a few more good years ahead of you?” He commented, confused.

You talked as if your youth was already over but you had a good reason. “Yeah, but I’m not gonna be as hot as I was when I met him.” He smirked. “He went for a younger woman.” You then added.

“Younger?” He raised his brows.

“I know. I think that’s why I feel old. But she was a 25-year-old trainee.”

“That’s not much younger than you.”

“You flatter me.” You let out a small laugh. “I just… Why do men always go for the younger woman?”

He took a subtle deep breath. “I—“

“Generally speaking,” you added. “Men who cheat go for a younger woman.”

“I don’t know but I’m sure Reid can give you all the statistics about it.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “I don’t wanna hear them.”

You let out a yawn, and soon Hotch did too. You two agreed in silence it was time for bed already.

“It’s not cold in here so I’ll sleep over the bed covers,” he commented.

“Hotch, you don’t have to. I don’t mind, honestly. I’ve shared beds with most of our team.”

“Alright,” he let out a small laugh, raising his brows.

The rain stopped around 5 am and within thirty minutes you both were up and ready to hit the road again. There were ten hours ahead of you and this time you didn’t feel the need to sleep through it. You slept like a baby last night and also, talking to Hotch was really nice, and he seemed well-rested too.

You stopped for a quick breakfast two hours in and had it in the car to optimize time. Throughout the drive, there were talks about the landscapes and weather and he’d throw in some random stories about his brother, or Haley and Jack when something reminded him of them.

Your favorite was how he and Jack had a tradition whenever it rained: chocolate chip cookies. And how Jack had already decided that he was going to do the same with his kids one day.

And the more the clock ticked, the more you wished he’d slow down his speed (even when he was going just below the limit). You didn’t want the trip to end, but it had to eventually.

Around 3 pm. Hotch was dropping you off at your place.

“It’s a nice neighborhood,” he commented. Only Derek had had the chance to visit your new place.

“It is. It’s mostly old people that live here so it’s very quiet all the time.” You smiled. Silence filled the air for a moment. You missed him already. “Hey, I know we’re both exhausted but… would you like to come in? We can make some decent lunch.”

Hotch took a subtle deep breath. “I would. I’d love to but… Jack’s waiting for me. I was supposed to arrive yesterday and he was excited to see me. I… I’m picking him up at school after this.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You gulped. Stupid.

Why did you feel nervous around him all of a sudden?

“Maybe some other time?” He asked.

Your stomach fluttered.

“Definitely.”

Spencer was turning 33, and Penelope thought throwing him a surprise birthday party was a good idea. She asked everyone to show up earlier than usual to decorate a conference room. You were the first one to show, then one by one everyone arrived.

The only one you wanted to see walking through the door, though, wasn’t the birthday boy. It was Hotch.

After the gloomy night at the motel, Hotch became a permanent thought. You didn’t know if it was because he took such good care of you, or because he trusted you to tell you a personal thing—or both—but since that night, something changed.

You’d always admired him, but this was more than that. Your cheeks grew warm whenever he looked at you. You started to feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. And you felt ridiculous. He was your boss, he’d been your boss for five years so why had your feelings changed?

The truth was, you’d always had certain feelings for him. Nothing ever happened before because you met him as a divorced man, who only had time for his kid and his job, so at the time, besides your boss, he was a nice face to look at (a very nice face). Then Haley's death came and he shut himself down, drowning himself in work. You started dating Zac soon after, then you didn’t have eyes for Hotch anymore. He became who he was: your boss.

Now, that both were single, your true feelings for him were coming afloat. Of course, you didn’t let them show; how your stomach fluttered at his sudden presence and constant glances. You insisted those were in your head, that he’d always looked at you the same amount or the same way, but when the attraction is reciprocated, there’s a spark.

That spark almost lit up a fire in your chest when he finally showed up. The lights were off, but you’d recognize his silhouette anywhere, and he was walking up to you.

“Hey,” he whispered, standing next to you.

“You’re late,” you whispered back.

“Is Reid here?”

“No, but we did all the work.”

“I’m… the boss for a reason.”

You held back a laugh. Thank god it was dark.

“Shhh, there he comes!” Penelope whispered loudly.

Everyone moved to their assigned spot and your hand accidentally brushed his in the process. “Sorry.”

It’s okay, he whispered.

That accidental touch was the first of many not-so-accidental.

You tried to convince yourself it was all in your head, but he looked at you, paid attention, listened to every word you had to say. He saw right through you.

There weren’t many moments outside work, though, and that confused you even more. You couldn't ask him to see each other casually. It wasn’t something you or he did, and it made you wonder. You wondered. Always. Every day. Every hour. Every time you looked at him you wondered what was going through his mind.

Weeks went by where unspoken words were said. Your feet itched to go to his office every time you knew he was going to stay until late. To offer him some coffee, or ask him if he needed help with something but all you always ever did was turn in your reports and linger there for a second or two, hoping he’d ask you to stay.

And tonight was no exception. You had your excuse to stay late this time, though. A doctor's appointment forced you to clock in late, and for that, you had to stay to meet your weekly worked hours.

Everyone had left, even the janitors.

Everyone except for Hotch, of course.

You glanced at your watch when you finally finished your last report. It wasn’t even an appropriate time to have dinner. You were dreaming of your bathtub and a glass of wine with some cheese.

You stacked your folders and adjusted your skirt before going to Hotch's office to hand them in. You knocked three times and waited for his Come in! to enter the room.

You walked in and he wasn’t at his desk as he usually was. He was on his couch, with only the lamp lights on; he’d removed his jacket and had his sleeves rolled up right below his elbows.

“Hey, I… I finished my reports.”

He looked at you—stared. You swore a faint smile was curling the corner of his lips. “Toss them on my desk.”

You slowly walked in and did as he said. “Are you… leaving soon?” you clasped your hands behind you.

“I don’t think so.”

“Is there… something I can help you with?” You gestured at the folder he was holding.

He paused for a second before replying, “Yes, actually.” He scooted to give you space on the couch. “Close the door.”

You did as he said and sat next to him, but not quite close. He put the folder on the coffee table and spread all the documents, filling in every gap.

“Choose,” he said.

You laughed. “What?”

“Our next case.”

“Oh, I’m not… I don’t think I’m qualified to do that, am I?”

“There’s a reason I’m asking you to choose.” He raised his brows to make his point.

Your eyes flickered between pictures and reports. Neither was worse than the other. “Well, it’s not like I can choose, right? You have to… study each one of these murders to decide which one has more priority. Which is… a bit twisted. As if one is less important than the other.”

“It’s hard.”

“And you do it every time.”

Hotch nodded. “JJ used to do it when she was the liaison. Now she still does when I can’t or ask her to since she has the right criteria, but it’s on me now.” He raised his brows as he spoke.

Your eyes were stuck on his lips, a sudden urge to kiss him brewing in your chest.

“I don’t know how you do your job without breaking down sometimes,” you said. He smiled, scanning your face up and down. God, you really wanted to kiss him. “I mean your unit chief job.” You tore your eyes off him and adjusted yourself a bit farther on the couch. You had the perfect view of the side of his head.

Hotch leaned forward resting his elbows over his knees and lowered his head. “It’s… the one thing I’m good at.”

“Not the only thing,” you let out a breathy laugh. He turned to you, raising his brows as if he were waiting for you to mention another thing he was good at. “You’re a great dad, Hotch,” you said without hesitation.

“I,” he licked his lips. “I could be better.”

“We all could be better at everything, doesn’t mean we’re bad at it.”

Hotch sighed. “You’re right.”

“You’re also… good at sports?”

“Stop.” He chuckled, lowering his head once again.

You rubbed his back by impulse, and you withdrew it right away as you felt him tense up. Your hand tingled at that brief contact and it burnt when he reached for it and enveloped it with his large hand. Your heart rate skyrocketed and all you could hear was your pulse in your ears (not that any of you was saying anything anymore).

He turned his head to you, adjusting farther back so his back would rest on the couch. Your shoulders touched now, and his hand was still on yours and this time, his thumb caressed your knuckles, and his eyes were stuck on your face.

The urge to kiss him was flush against your skin.

“You should go home,” he said, swallowing thickly. “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” you licked your lips. “I really should.”

He let go of your hand and with the same one, you caressed the side of his head where a few satly strands of hair were gloriously shining. You put the short pieces behind his ear and cradled his face. You held your breath. What the hell were you doing?

A pained frown took over his face and he shut his eyes for a second. You wanted to kiss the frown away so you leaned, kissing his cheek. He tilted his face until the tip of your nose was touching his.

His shaky breath ghosted your lips.

Would a kiss on the lips be so bad?

You were closing the gap before you thought about the answer. Your lips touched—a soft peck—and there was barely a sound when you pulled away.

“I’m sorry I”— You placed your fingers over your lips right away.

Hotch wasn’t giving you any signs of anything at all and panic began to take over you.

God, what have you done?

Your name came out of his mouth in a whisper filled with longing. He was leaning closer. He studied your face from up close as he paused. His nostrils flared and he licked his bottom lip before going for a kiss. Just as tender as yours.

At first.

One of his hands found a spot on the side of your thigh while the other went to the back of your neck, bringing you closer and allowing the kiss to intensify. His chin scraped yours with his barely noticeable beard and his lips were gentle despite his sudden urge.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for this—him kissing you back or reciprocating any sign of affection. But he was, and he was getting so into it his tongue was already teasing yours.

A small moan escaped you when he opened his mouth a bit more. Your breathing quickened with each kiss and when your tongues finally tangled together, you lost it.

“C’mere.” He murmured against your lips.

You hopped on his lap and gave yourself in. You wrapped your arms around his neck tight and pressed your hips down. It became sloppy with each kiss already and only heavy breathing filled the room. His heavy breathing.

He was so needy for you.

This wasn’t how you expected your night to go, but you were ecstatic. No matter how far this went, it already was much better than your bathtub.

You let go of his lips for a second. You needed to catch some air.

“Aaron.”

You’d never called him by his first name. Never, and right then you wished you’d done it sooner. It seemed to have awakened something in him. He groaned into another kiss and grabbed your hips tightly, encouraging you to move them.

He liked it. He loved it.

You obeyed, grinding him and going back for another kiss. His hands were still shy, hesitantly resting at the curves of your hips. You pressed your hips down. His hard bulge was right there. You couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip, cupping his face harshly with both hands as if he could go anywhere. He was a prisoner of your body; you had him caged with your legs and arms and he didn’t seem to mind at all.

His hands raked down your curves, lower on either side of your hips and slowly traveled down, cupping your ass and guiding you back and forth.

Hotch’s lap was heaven on earth.

You moaned into a wetter kiss, tongues gliding together. You were embarrassingly loud now. He smiled against your lips.

“Sorry.” You let out a small, embarrassed laugh, pressing your foreheads together.

His chest was heaving in and out as he tried to regulate his breathing. His hands went up to your lower back and he pulled you close into a tight and tender hug.

A sudden clarity hit you. This shouldn’t have happened. He was your boss for fucks sake. You were sure, that once you came out of his office, you would lose your job. The one you fought so hard for.

“I… I have to go.” You slid off his lap and stood in front of him, adjusting your skirt.

He was staring up at you through his dark lashes and you couldn’t look at him without feeling embarrassed. You wiped your lips clean and took a few steps back.

“I am so sorry this—” You took a few more steps backward on your way to the door and turned all the way, giving him your back.

Hotch stood up, his broad silhouette taking a few steps towards you. He said your name with his deep, deep, oh-so-deep voice as your hand touched the knob. He was right behind you now, his torso glued to your back and his arms wrapped around your waist.

You shut your eyes as he inhaled your hair.

You locked the door.

“Are you sure?” he murmured next to your ear.

All you could do was nod.

He flipped you around by your hips, capturing your mouth, body, and soul. This time he groaned like an animal, hungry for you. God, he was desperate and your entire body fluttered. Your knees when weak right when he scooped you by your thighs and walked with you towards his desk, plopping you there while knocking everything down with one hand.

No words were necessary. His hands talked for him and the kiss was never-ending. You were a fucking mess already. You were at his will, so open to let him do anything he wanted with you.

To you.

The air was getting hotter and the layers of clothes began to bother you. His body heat and breath were to blame. He was everywhere.

He sneaked one hand in between your legs and gripped your inner thigh, his thick fingers sinking into your flesh. You squirmed over the wood, encouraging him to go a little higher. He did, the tip of his fingers ghosting your panties. They were damp with your arousal already (you’d felt it leak through you when you were kissing on the couch), and by the way he smiled, he could feel it. He lifted your skirt up to your waist and pressed himself onto you, his erection finding your cunt like a magnet. He cursed under his breath, looking down at where your bodies touched the most. But not quite.

You wanted to touch him, feel how hard he was. You palmed his thick bulge and gulped. Your mouth went dry as you began to massage the outline of his erection while making eye contact, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered.

There were so many clothes in the way, making it hard to focus but then he grabbed your jaw and looked into your eyes and whatever was about to come, was the best thing that would ever happen to you.

He sneaked his fingers from the side of your panties, the wet sound of your arousal against his fingers was embarrassing. But it made him drop his head to your shoulder. He cursed again and began to massage you, spreading your arousal all over with his thick fingers. Your cunt clenched, desperate to have him inside you. You cursed under your breath with pleasure as his fingers found your wet entrance. He made circular motions without entering, teasing you.

He was driving you insane, too.

“Hotch,” you murmured, I need you, you wanted to say, but he shushed you. Gently. Tenderly. Shushed you with an open-mouth kiss.

You whimpered against his mouth and with clumsy hands, undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, sneaking your hand inside to touch his length. Finally. You whined again at that first touch. His skin was burning.

“Would you fuck me?” you whispered, wrapping your fingers around his length. They barely covered him.

“Of course, sweetheart. Just give me a minute. Let me feel you.”

He moved his fingers up and down between your wet folds, feeling you as he’d said. He knew exactly what he was doing, he was skilled, gentle and put the perfect amount of pressure.

But you were growing desperate.

“Please, Hotch.”

He didn’t give you any warning and in one fell swoop, he had his length out. Fuck. His cock stood on its own—thick and long—so close to your cunt. The tip glistened with his arousal.

“Scoot to the edge,” he ordered.

You did as he said and he lined himself at your entrance and barely pushed the head inside. You both let out a quiet moan at the same time.

God, it felt good. He felt good. You both looked down and watched as he slowly entered, inch by inch until he was all the way inside. He looked at you then and you lost it.

Aaron Hotchner was fucking you. Aaron Hotchner, whom you admired and respected. Aaron Hotchner, the man who has been messing with your head these past few months.

This was an eye-opening experience. Paradise on earth. How have you gone so many years without him? New feelings were brewing in your chest with each thrust, each stare, and each kiss.

You gripped the back of his head and pulled him closer as he began to move, rocking his hips back and forth. You’d milked his dark and thick curls with your arousal already, making each slam sticky to your skin.

His cock was exquisite, spreading you open and reaching every right spot.

“You feel so good, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You couldn’t resist.

He kept fucking you until your butt went numb, you needed to finish but you didn’t want this to end. Ever

You showed your discomfort by adjusting over the desk.

Bend over, he whispered on your lips.

He kissed you one last time before you hopped off the desk and obeyed, bending over his desk and glancing at him over your shoulder, ready to take him. He squeezed your ass with both hands and lined himself again. He teased you, pulling it out and moving it up and down. You let out a needy hum, wiggling your ass, begging for his cock.

He entered again and this time, he was ruthless. He slammed into you, hard. Then again. And again. Over and over until the only sound in the room was the clash of skin against skin. You had to muffle your moans—and smile—by biting your forearm.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. God, Aaron Hotchener fucked good. So good you were seeing stars already and so close to grazing the sky.

He bent down too for a moment just to bring you up close into a hug. “Come here.” You already knew he liked having you close.

He sneaked one hand from the front and massaged your clit as his thrust became sloppy. You threw your head back to his shoulder, and he captured the underside of your chin between his teeth.

This was it. The beginning of an addiction you never wanted to rid yourself of.

There were a few more slams before he came. Hard. He was a vocal man. Grunting and groaning and cursing quietly as his cock twitched inside you.

Your legs were shaking, and if it wasn’t because he was holding you, you were sure you would’ve fallen to your knees. And he didn’t let go of you for a moment, his cock still inside you.

You needed to know what he was thinking, see his face.

You took a sharp breath to speak, but he slipped his cock out and you gasped. His cum dripped down.

“Sorry,” he murmured and was quick to clean you with a tissue.

You finally turned around and caught a look on his face you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t disappointment. But it wasn’t a positive thing.

“This“—he began, buttoning his pants—“changes everything.” He glared at you.

You adjusted your skirt and pressed your lips together. “I know.”

“And it can’t happen ever again.” Your heart dropped to your stomach for a second as he added, “Not here.” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lip

You pressed your lips together, hiding a smile.

“Yes, sir. Won’t happen again.” You walked up to him, placing your palm flat over his chest. His heart was still racing. “Not here.”

You kissed him, and he kissed you back.

“Should we, uh, leave together?” you asked, licking your lips.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He caressed your cheek with his thumb. “You can leave first.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow.” He nodded and stole another kiss before you left.

You walked out of the building so put together as if nothing had happened, and kept a straight face until you were inside your car.

“Holy fuck,” you laughed; squealed, almost.

That really happened. You covered your face with both hands trying to come back to earth.

You decided to drive off before Hotch appeared in the parking lot, or else you wouldn’t resist taking him right there all over again. You replayed what had happened in your head the entire drive and as soon as you made it home, he texted you.

I hope you know this isn’t something casual or unimportant to me.

You smiled. You loved that he couldn’t hide his professionalism when texting.

I know, you texted back, for me either. Believe me

Good, he replied.

Goodnight, Hotch. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tomorrow came and from the moment you laid eyes on each other, you agreed: no one could know about it.

He explained to you, when no one was around, how relationships within the bureau had a reputation. It would’ve been different if he was at the same level as you, but since he was your superior, it wouldn’t be well seen.

So this being a secret was more for him than for you, but you didn’t mind. It was such a rush. The whole forbidden thing did something to you, which caused you to be horny at work more than once.

But he made up for it when you saw each other at his place or yours.

There, it was different. You allowed yourself to be softer and he didn’t hold back any kiss or touch. His affection confused you, though, since the talk hadn’t come up yet. The ‘what are we?’ talk, and you didn’t want to be the girl who asked that after the second date.

There was sex—lots of it—, there were dinners, movie nights, and everything couples did, so it made sense if you asked, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to spoil the magic.

Because it was magical, your lives took an awful turn when you got your hearts broken and you both were right at the curve to meet each other. He’d been there, in front of you this whole time and a fragment of you glued back together every time he stared into your eyes while nothing was said. While he caressed your face and kissed you just because he wanted to. He managed to heal you between the lines, with subtle words that’d get stuck at the back of your mind.

And the more you two met outside work—whether it was at his place or yours, his bed, or a fancy hotel room—your feelings for him intensified.

They were worse on nights like these, when you found yourself tangled between sheets with him after sex, talking about anything and everything.

He often had an expression of everlasting love.

At least, you liked to think that way.

“What are you thinking?” He asked you with that glimmer in his eyes.

You sucked in a breath and brushed the front pieces of his hair with your fingers. “Did you get Morgan’s wedding invitation?”

You don’t know why, but he laughed. “I did, yes.”

“I think we should bring a date.”

“Why?”

“We have a plus one and… I don’t know. I’m gonna be wearing a dress so for your sake, I should have a date. That isn’t you.”

“Oh, really?” He teased, placing a kiss on your ear.

“This is inappropriate, Agent Hotchner, I’m your subordinate.” You laughed. You were ticklish there.

“Not when you’re in my bed.” He adjusted himself on top of you, lowering to kiss you. “And don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

You laughed again.

You loved it.

Loved him.

I hope you liked it!!! I’d love to hear your thoughts about it too!🤭❤️‍🔥

#I’m so excited for this one pls don’t let it flop #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic

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wickjump · 10 days

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I don’t know why but I just don’t like ink and underverse didn’t really help change my opinion can you tell me some of his good qualities?

i’m going to tell this to you right now if you ever want to get to know ink as a character do not go to underverse. i love it so so much, but underverse is not canon to him at all and isn’t good to get to know ink in the way he actually is in his canon. so instead im going to blab at you for a while

a lot of people tend to fanonize him as ‘emotionless who doesn’t care about anyone and i’m EVIL’ which is also not him at all, and definitely skews peoples' perspective on him. emotionless ink could never be canon, as ink without his vials turns into what comyet described as a 'husk', unable to function or do anything, much less evil apathetic activities.

the concept of emotionless ink can work with individual stories, but the fandom really messes things up with how they portray him. (all art used here is by comyet and either explicitly canon to ink, or dubiously/half-canon)

literally look at him. that is the face of someone who is not pure evil.

this isn't the fault of the people who write him that way btw, but rather the fandom for being unable to tell the difference between fanon and canon sometimes. anyway, ink appeal:

i, and many other people, enjoy him because the way he acts is very similar to people with autism/adhd. being rude without intending to be so, hyperactive, memory issues, struggles with empathy, social situations, and connection to others, xyz. even little tidbits, like losing his pencils a lot, can be reminiscent of people with poor object permanence often caused by adhd or other disorders (me fr). aaaand, their adhd is actually canon!! he's not intentionally an asshole he's just neurodivergent and cannot read a room for shit!!

for that reason, he's used for neurodivergent people to project onto him. also because his canon story is unique in a way never seen before, just. ever. he expanded the idea of the multiverse in a way that helped allow other people to build on it. so in a way, we owe a lot of the utmv to ink (or comyet for coming up with the idea of him in the first place). i highly recommend you read the comic! it's on comyet's tumblr page, or dubbed on youtube by a few people.

also, to those who say he's completely faking his feelings, what do you think his vials are for? he canonically experiences grief and other strong emotions, even if they're not the same way others’ feelings are. booyah stop making him an asshole i beg i just want one piece of content where ink isnt evil im pleading

^^^^ ink after one of his father figures dies. he tries to cope by saying it's in the script for his au, something ink has sworn himself to protect, despite his grief. he's coping :(

a lot of other people also enjoy ink because of their moral greyness and their priorities being rather interesting. and before you think 'oh thats just underverse': no it is not! ink's priorities are keeping aus on script and protecting them rather than the lives of individual people, however acknowledges them more as people if they're aware of the multiverse (such as his father figures, zephyr and top). otherwise, he views people as characters. ink does not harm people for the sake of harming them, they avoid fighting and would not be abusive or antagonistic for the sake of being an antagonist.

this is actually what influenced the god headcanon, a headcanon where ink is the god of creativity (often paired with error as the god of destruction), as many people interpret this distanced behavior as similar to gods in many media.

his dynamic with other characters is also really interesting, and how he intertwines in their stories. despite none of it being canon to him, he's used in many other stories and he's moldable to each of them. he's canon to dream, while dream isn't canon to him. same with cross! (ok i lied its not all comyet, this art is by jakei (left) showcasing ink in underverse) mind you, this is not canon to ink, only cross/dream respectively. comyet seems fine with this though, and is friends with jakei, creator of underverse (im unsure about joku). ink is a flexible character!

the way he impacts stories that, on his part, aren't canon to him is unique and something generally unseen in other fandoms. even though he and error have never canonically met in either of their stories, their dynamic is so multiversal that regardless of the story, or their relationship in it, 99% of the time their tales are intertwined. the idea that two characters have impacted each other so much despite never canonically being aware of each other, much less meeting, is so appealing. comyet actually made non-canon art of them as friends :)

this is why people who hate errorink for the sole sake of "they hate each other in canon" are incorrect and wrong. comyet also drew ship art of them forever ago which i appreciate so much thank you for the food

ink also has two canon (adoptive) father figures!! i love that for him!! they’re one of very few sanses with two parents. they are the silliest of guys. he's killer but with better morals because he isn't a murderer (its ok i love killer too he can change its all nightmare's fault pls believe me)

also he's french. imaginez être français. épouvantable. /joke (he is french tho)

also, he's canonically he/they and aroace! this is why you see many more qpr headcanons for him than other characters, though some people interpret him in other ways. though he's not non-binary (referred to as a male by comyet several times, even in the same sentence stating his pronouns), just flexible with pronouns, many people also headcanon him to be non-binary or otherwise trans.

overall, i think his appeal comes from how unique he is, how the fandom has expanded upon and used him in so many different ways, and generally his relatability to many neurodivergent people, me included. i love u ink sans.

UGH HES SO COOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! consume more content of them where they aren’t pure evil for one reason or another and you'll grow to like them i prommy. he's been screwed over by the fandom so many times

#ink sans #utmv #undertale #undertale multiverse #sans undertale #sans #trying my best to get this out there #underverse #error sans #cause what is ink without error by this point

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gglitch1dd · 2 months

Text

Cheating DILF Izuku

Husband Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Note: This is just an angst story. IT IS NOT CONFIRMED PART OF MY STORY. It is not CANON. Izuku would NEVER cheat but if he did... it would be like this. I wrote this just to watch people cry.

Warning: Child loss, grief, Infidelity, Absent parenting,

You felt him shift behind you as his alarm rang. It was early in the morning and yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to get up and out of bed yet. There was a whole ocean of space between you and your husband. A gap that had not been crossed or touched in over six months. It felt so cold to even try and move from your side of the bed because you knew that the person you were reaching out to was just as cold and if not, colder.

You heard your husband get out of bed and move towards the bathroom to get ready for work. There was no more slow morning sex, or waking up in his arms or to kisses. Anything and everything was work or the kids. That was all it seemed your marriage became in the span of six months.

You let out a heavy breath as you slowly sat up in bed. You looked to the right over to the family photo on your side table. You, your loving husband and your five boys. Something that seemed so far away despite the portraits having been taken just a year ago.

You got up out of bed and moved to go wake up the boys. You knocked on each of their doors, making sure they would be awake to get to school. You moved to your youngest’s bedroom. The four-year-old was still very much asleep which you were glad for. You moved over to where he was asleep in bed, his eyes closed. You gave a sad smile, but you were glad he was so blissfully unaware of everything else.

You moved to head downstairs, getting bento boxes ready and also breakfast. It was the same routine but something was always different which you couldn’t help but be grateful for.

Just as you fried the eggs, your oldest sons came downstairs.

“Morning mom!” Asahi greeted as he moved to quickly kiss your cheek and immediately went to grab plates to set the table. You smiled at your eleven year old son, already dressed in his gakuran.

“Morning ma!” Another kiss went to your cheek as Hero, your seven year old came and passed by, grabbing cutlery to put at the table, seemingly already in conversation with Asahi. You smiled over at him.

Finally walking over to you, in not as much as a rush than his younger brothers was Toshinori, your eldest. He gave your shoulders a squeeze and a kiss to your cheek. “Good morning, ma.” He easily picked up on tending to the other frying pan, grabbing his apron with one hand so that he could help you. He did it without being told and yet you always felt so grateful for his help. He looked at you with kind eyes and curly green hair. “Did you sleep well? How are you feeling?” He asked.

You smiled over at him, so grateful you had such an attentive eldest son. “I slept fine, thank you Toshi. I hope you slept well too.” You wished as you turned off the stove you were working at and turned to finish your husband’s bento box.

“I slept well.” He told you sweetly. “Did… did any email or mail come in yet?” he asked.

You turned to Toshinori with a smile. He had been eagerly awaiting a letter from UA. You were just grateful that with everything that happened the last six months, your son managed to still train and go to the physical exam to enter UA High School. Although you were pretty sure it was a guarantee that he would enter the school, considering he had your husband’s quirk due to him being born quirkless too, Toshinori wanted a fair and equal trial just like everyone else. He wanted to be deserving of it and in every way he was.

You turned to him shoving him gently. “Hey…” he turned to you with slightly anxious eyes. You took a deep breath and he mimicked you. You took a second before you both breathed out. You smiled. “Everything is going to be fine. I told you, you’ll be the first one to read it the moment I get it.” You promised him. He nodded his head with a smile. He opened his mouth to speak but the heavy sound of footsteps interrupted him as finally your husband descended from downstairs.

“Morning dad!”

“Morning kiddos.” Your husband let out, his voice less chirpy than it was six months ago. Midoriya Izuku walked over to where you were in the kitchen, automatically grabbing a flask of hot made coffee that you had made for him. He was in his own world again. His eyes distant but his actions were trained. The autopilot you had all been on, kicking in.

You knew you wouldn’t receive a good morning from him.

You barely got him to notice you half the time now.

You cleared your throat as you closed his bento and packed it away. “Izuku, remember Asahi’s science project at school. The viewing is at two.” You reminded him as you grabbed a can of soda and placed it with the rest of his lunch that you packed.

“Y/N, you know I can’t make it.” You heard him talk as he grabbed an apple as makeshift breakfast, not bothering to have breakfast with any of you anymore.

You looked at him with a pained expression. “Izuku, you promised you would go.”

You heard a sigh come out of him as he grabbed his bag and finally looked at you, stopping for five seconds. Your large husband felt so far away from you despite not being more than three steps away from you. “Y/N, I’m the Number One hero of this country. I don’t have time to always go to every recital and function.” He reminded you.

You felt annoyance bubble up inside you as your eyebrows furrowed. Your grip on your apron tightened as you looked up at him. That was always his excuse nowadays. “Izuku, you have been so busy with work lately. It would mean the world to him if you showed up. He’s been getting into arguments at schoo-”

“Y/N, I have a meeting in less than an hour.” He dismissed as he started to turn to leave the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll try make it if I get time.” He waved it off as he headed towards the entrance hallway, leaving you and the boys alone once again.

You bit back the emotions of annoyance and disappointment as you let out a sigh and turned to do something else, ignoring the boys and their silence as they watched. That’s how mornings were like now. Either Izuku buzzing by too fast to even get more than a sentence out of him before he’s out the door, or he’s never there entirely.

It had been like this ever since your second youngest, Shoyo had passed away.

A villain had attacked his primary school as revenge against heroes including your husband. Your little boy had sacrificed himself along with Hanta and Mina’s youngest child, Sero Kimiko. It was a dark day in your group of friends to lose two six year olds, innocent and pure. It was a horrible incident, an even more horrible case. Your husband and other heroes were on the scene one minute too late.

It was a horrible time for all of you. You barely could call yourself a human after the funeral and even during the hearing of state vs the class A villain, Jigsaw. You don’t remember most of it, all you knew was that you didn’t even get to see your little boy’s body one final time before cremation, because there simply wasn’t anything to hold.

You couldn’t imagine the horrific sight your husband saw that day, but he only truly began to change once the court ruling had happened and Jigsaw was sentenced to the death penalty. Your husband had moved further and further away from you, almost as if being near you and the boys was torture.

You couldn’t understand it at all, but you always made excuses for him. Even when it was Toshinori’s fifteenth birthday and Izuku wasn’t there. You told your son everything under the moon to make him understand, and he did. Because he loved his father that much. But there was only so many excuses you could give for so long.

With all the kids at school and you having taken Koda to kindergarten, leaving you alone for a few hours, you decided to clean Izuku’s study. The grand room was filled with papers and books, his laptop monitors all on from the long night he spent in here after coming home from patrol. You didn’t even know how he kept on moving when it seemed like he barely slept in your own bed. You didn’t question the times he wouldn’t come home for days on end, always saying he spent his nights at the office.

You ignored the smell of perfume on his hero suits too.

You walked into the room, moving to clear his desk and the multiple mugs of empty coffee. You moved to clear all the clutter, moving classified documents into a pile where he could find them all. He worked hard, it was something you always admired about him. It was the reason why the crime rate had more than halved in the last six months.

You heard a message pop up on his monitor. He had long time connected his phone to his computer, he said it made it easier to access things sometimes. Izuku also had a habit of leaving things on when he wanted to get back to it but always getting so whirled up in his head that he never did get back to them sometimes.

You made the ugly mistake of looking up at the monitor, your eyes reading before you could stop yourself.

You didn’t move.

You didn’t breathe.

You watched as message after message popped up.

Suddenly it felt as if your entire world had fallen underneath your feet.

Izuku dragged a hand through his hair as he came in through the door. It was past eight and no doubt, dinner had already been eaten in the Midoriya household. He had gotten so caught up in work and other matters that time just washed by. But that’s just how time seemed to pass ever since…

His eyes automatically went to the photo in the entranceway that sat beside a candle that was always lit no matter the time of day. A photo of a little boy, not older than six, with the brightest green eyes and the biggest smile. Hair so big and curly it almost swallowed him up whole. Inko had told Izuku when Shoyo was born, that he looked the most like him out of every single one of the boys, with the same sparkle in his eyes and smile that reached the stars.

Looking at him now only made Izuku feel nothing but never-ending guilt.

Taking off his shoes, Izuku got into the house. It was that soft time when homework was either being done or the boys got to destress before their busy days tomorrow.

“Dad!” Izuku turned to see his eldest. Toshinori had his hands in his pockets as he walked over to his father. Every day it seemed like the boy was getting taller, although he still hadn’t hit that particular growth spurt. He’d probably get it in second year of high school, like Izuku had. Toshinori seemed a bit apprehensive, knowing how his father seemed much more rougher than he was before. But he couldn’t blame him. Something in all of them changed six months ago. “Evening.” He nodded his head.

It took Izuku a second before mustering up a smile. “Toshi, how was school?”

Toshinori gave a look of surprise which hurt Izuku. How long had it been since he asked his son that question? “G-good!” He let out with a smile, so excited that his father asked. “It was great! Yah, Kane and I got moved into the first team for rugby! Coach said I could really get better as long as…” A soft blush went to his face as he scratched the back of his head. “As long as I learn to stop accidentally activating One for All when I get too worked up.”

Izuku let out an amused scoff but put a hand to Toshinori’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I struggled with that too even now. Just practise what I’ve already taught you and find a way to box it whenever you’re playing.” He advised. Toshinori perked up, his eyes as bright as stars as he smiled, glad to receive something from his father today. When last had he checked up on Toshinori and his use of One for All? Izuku felt sick at the thought. Izuku looked up to the empty kitchen. “Where’s mom?”

“Oh! She told me to tell you to meet her in your room. She said she had to talk to you about something. I’m not sure what.” He shrugged. “Must have to do with Asahi’s fight.”

Izuku nearly had whiplash as he turned to look back at Toshinori. “Fight? What fight?”

“Asahi got into another fight at school during the showcase. Didn’t tell me what about though.” Toshinori shrugged, but underlying worry in his demeanour.

Another?

Was this a frequent thing? Since when?

Izuku opened his mouth to speak but Toshinori beat him to it. “He’s been in his room since after dinner.”

Izuku nodded. “Thanks Toshi.” He turned to head straight upstairs. Izuku moved immediately straight into his mind at all this news. Fights? Since when did his eleven year old get into fights? Why wasn’t he told? Izuku was confused as he opened the door to your shared bedroom. He needed a shower and preferably a long night’s rest, but first he had to get down to this issue on Asahi. Your husband stepped into your bedroom. “Y/N, what is this I’m hearing about Asahi-”

“Close the door.” The tone in your voice had the green haired Number One hero freezing. It was eerily calm. It was horrifying because the only times you ever spoke like that was when you were angry. His eyebrows twitched as he looked to you as you sat on the other side of the master bedroom. The fire place in your bedroom was lit, which confused him because he didn’t think it all that cold to light a fire. Your eyes remained forward, your back towards him as you stood in the otherwise dark room. “Close the door, Midoriya.”

“Midoriya?” Izuku was confused. You hadn’t called him that since before you started dating, since third year of UA actually. It was an odd thing to hear come out of your lips, especially since you were Midoriya too. Izuku’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stepped forward. “Y/N, what’s going-”

“Close the door.” This time you said it a bit more firmly, but you were careful not to shout considering your door was still open.

Izuku complied, closing the door behind him, because like everyone in your family, there were rules to your household. One rule was that only under emergency circumstances was your bedroom door to be opened without knocking or permission from the both of you. Another was that your bedroom was the one neutral place where you could both talk to one another openly and freely without worry of the kids and having to be mindful parents.

Or at least it used to be.

The room was silent and tensely so. You looked down at the fire the entire time, nothing but the sound of the burning of wood was in the room as you both stood at opposite sides of the room.

“Do you remember…” Your voice started, nearly startling your husband that felt as though he could break out into a sweat in any second. “When we started dating, you used to write me letters.” You spoke softly and yet Izuku could hear every word. He noticed then that there was burnt papers in the fire place and papers in your hand still. Pages of handwritten letters, of ink and passionate love sat in your hands. “Pages upon pages of images of your thoughts and emotions of me. Each one different than the other. Nothing was the same and yet they all carried the same undeniable feeling of you… Midoriya Izuku, the man I fell in love with.” You spoke with such delicacy, almost as if that feeling of receiving them was fresh inside you. “And yet,” Your grip on the papers grew hard. “Not even more than half a year after our fourth son’s death…” You tossed the papers into the fire, not even looking back at them as they crumbled and charred under the heat.

This was the first time Izuku saw you since coming back and the image of your face is something he would have scarred into him for the rest of his life. Tears flowed from your eyes, and yet the only look he could see on you was pure anger and disgust. You looked absolutely broken and Izuku knew in that moment that you knew.

“You cheated on me.” You whispered with such anger it almost felt like that was a slap in his face entirely. “Why?”

It was a simple question, and one that Izuku didn’t have the answer to. Izuku was shaking. He was as pale as snow and fear brimmed in his eyes for the first time in a long time and yet you didn’t care. He closed his eyes and breathed. “You know how hard it’s been for me these last few months. All the headlines and everyone saying that I wasn’t fast enough to save him. I… I’ve been swallowed up with guilt and grief.”

“You don’t think we all have?” You asked coldly, making him stiffen. You stepped forward with a scowl on your face. “I stay here and take care of our home, of our boys. Our boys who have the same face as their brother and I have to fight the urge to cry at every waking moment because I see him in their faces!” You shouted pointing at the door. “I’ve been grieving!” Your hand went to your chest, painfully so but you didn’t care how hard you squeezed. It didn’t compare to the agony in your heart that only reignited. “We’ve all been grieving! I’ve been begging you to talk to me! Telling you not to listen to the headlines and talk to me! To talk in therapy! You have no excuse!”

“I was weak!” He shouted back at you, angrier at himself than he could ever be at you. “Like always! Ochaco was there just as a friend and then it felt so easy just to talk to her and unburden with her and then…” He couldn’t say it. It felt too real if he said it. It was all just a dream to him. A fantasy he could indulge in for a few hours out of the agony. It meant nothing to him, not like how you mean the world to him.

You shrugged. “And then what? You tripped and fell into her cunt? What, Izuku!”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back at you. It was silent for another moment. “How did you find out?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess it doesn’t.” He closed his eyes as he swallowed down the heavy pill.

This was it.

This was the end.

He had ruined everything all because he felt too much of a failure to face you and would have rather run to someone else than to you. His loyal and faithful wife. His loving wife. The woman that had given him everything. He felt a tear slip out of his eye as he looked down at the ground. He couldn’t look you in the eyes. Not when you knew. Not when you looked at him with the very thing he wanted to avoid in the first place.

He wiped his face. “Where are the divorce papers?” He asked in a whisper.

There was a beat of silence before a scoff came out of you. You folded your arms as you stood before him. “Divorce papers?” You asked almost as if it was funny. “Oh God, no.” Immediately, Izuku looked up at you in shock. You shook your head almost as if the very thought was unthinkable. “No. I’m not going to order a divorce. Do you know why?”

Izuku knew better than to give you a real answer. He decided to stay silent as he shook his head. The sound of your shoes on the floor was deafening as you walked forward to stand right in front of him.

You pointed to the picture on your bedside table. “Because of them.” You stated honestly. “Because of the four boys that we still have. That is the reason why I’m not getting the best divorce lawyer in this damn country. That is why I am not packing my bags and taking my children far away from you so that they can hate your actions just as much as I do.” You emphasised. “I love those boys more than I care for my own sanity and soul. I love those boys so much, I am painstakingly aware of the fact that I can never divorce you because I would never be able to take care of them without you. I love them so much that I know that they love you as if you hung the stars, Izuku!” You shouted at him, tears flowing down your face. A hiccup broke your voice but it didn’t stop you. “They love you so much and yet I know it would kill them to know what you’ve done! I refuse to let our sons hate you the same way you hate your father.”

That cold hard truth came crashing down on him like ice water. It chilled him to the very bone, and stirred his stomach making him feel sick.

Your jaw shivered with emotion, but you kept your head held high. “That is why I will not divorce you. I do not wish to inflict whatever more emotional trauma they could have after the last six months. So this is what is going to happen.” You folded your arms as you looked up at him. “Oh Izuku stop crying.”

He jolted as he hadn’t realised that there were tears flowing down his face. He moved a hand to his face, feeling the wetness of tears against his skin. He looked back at you. “Thank-”

“I don’t want to hear it, because I don’t care.” You cut him off quickly shutting him up. “I don’t care if you have every girl in the whole of Japan wrapped around your finger, but those women will never set a single foot into this house or into our children’s lives, do you understand me? If word gets out about this, you damn believe I will drain you dry Izuku. I will make sure that there is nothing left of your legacy that you have cultivated.” You hissed with pure intent in every word you said.

Izuku nodded his head pathetically scared of you (rightfully so). “Y/N, I promise you, I’ll never do it again! I’ll go to therapy again! We can go together. I promise I’ll change and-”

“I don’t care because you will never touch me sexually again.” You told him flat out. “We will act, we will pose, we will sing if we damn have to, to make our boys and the rest of Japan believe that we are somewhat of a functioning team at least until they are all out of the house. But Izuku know this…” You stepped forward as you looked up at him.

This was the man you had fallen in love with. A man who held your heart in the palm of his hand so easily that it was probably foolish of you to have loved him as much as you did. You loved Midoriya Izuku. You loved his smile, his muttering, his large scarred hands that held a world full of problems but still held you tenderly, you loved his laugh, you loved his heart. You loved the man standing in front of you.

“I love you.” You let out brokenly, taking the both of you by surprise. You nodded your head with a smile, a smile so broken it looked wrong on your face. “I love you, and you are the father of my children and my partner, but you will never again be my husband.”

Izuku didn’t move, he didn’t speak, he didn’t breathe. He was stuck there like a statue but you still continued.

“Now…” You brushed down your front. “I have to go give Toshinori his acceptance letter to UA. I advise you clean yourself up first before you go anywhere near my son.” You moved to walk right past him, your shoes deafening as you walked out the room closing the door behind him.

Izuku was motionless still, even without you in the room.

This was a worser fate than a divorce. Being trapped with the love of his life and never feeling her love back in return. Being married but never being your husband ever again.

“Morning mom!”

A kiss went to your cheek as you were finishing up breakfast. Toshinori smiled at you as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “Good morning, mom.”

You let out a chuckle, trying to fill in the void and hollow feeling inside you. You grabbed your eldest son, bringing him into a hug as he laughed. “There’s my hero!” he grabbed a hold of you, picking you up off your feet making you shout in surprise. You had forgotten that with One for All he had also inherited his father’s strength. “Toshinori!” You shouted out in surprise. “Put me down!”

He laughed and held you tight, but put you back on your feet. You couldn’t help but giggle as he moved to switch off the stove and grab plates out of the cabinet. The heavy footsteps of your husband were heard as he descended from upstairs. You didn’t bother to look up at him.

Izuku looked a bit less like the mess you left him in last night. You had told him that for the night he wasn’t allowed in your bedroom, and he would stay in the office he cared about more than you in the last six months. He wore sweatpants as he kept one hand in his pockets and came down.

Asahi looked up from where he was setting the table. “Morning dad!”

“Morning buddy.” Izuku forced a smile to his face as he walked over to the table. He pulled Asahi in for a hug making his eyes go wide in surprise. The other boys looked at their father confused but didn’t say anything. “How did you sleep?”

“…fine.” He answered, glancing at you. You shrugged, acting to be oblivious. He did the same thing with Hero as well, before coming over to do the same with Toshinori.

Toshinori looked up at his father in surprise. “Morning dad… is your shift later in the day?” He asked as he noticed his father’s rather casual attire. He normally would just sleep in or rest more and let the four of you have breakfast by yourselves.

Izuku hesitated but shook his head as he moved over to grab an extra plate, noticing that the number of plates Toshinori had gotten was just for the four of you excluding him. “No.” He answered rather blankly. Izuku took his plate as well as the other plates that Toshinori was holding and went to go put them on the table. Asahi noticed the extra plate and went to go and grab more cutlery.

Breakfast was finished and so you all moved to the table. You kept notice of the time, wondering if you should wake up Koda or not. You sat next to Izuku on his right side like before, as he sat at the head of the table. Toshinori sat beside you, not wanting to sit on the other side of his father today. Your three eldest boys sat quietly, not touching their plates either as they looked between you and their father. You looked to Izuku and for a moment your husband froze.

That was the look you always gave him whenever you all used to sit at the table together. You would sit together and you would let him lead. Izuku felt horrible knowing that you were perfect. You always used to make it so important that the boys learnt from him in being a good male figure, no matter what. And yet as you looked at him now, all he saw was emptiness in your eyes. Rightfully so.

He cleared his throat and smiled. He put his hands together. “Thank you for the food.” The boys quickly followed afterwards before you all started eating. You sat posed and composed as if last night wasn’t one of the worst nights of your life. Izuku looked up at the three boys. “Actually boys…” He started.

The three of them looked up, heads of green hair perking up as they looked to their large Prohero father who sat at the head of the table. You were quiet as you let him say whatever piece he wanted to say. Whether he wanted to tell the boys or not, you wouldn’t intervene.

“I owe an apology to all of you.” He started. Toshinori’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He glanced at you with an emotionless expression but then looked back at his father. “To you and…” He motioned to the three of them before moving to look at you. You put your hand down silently allowing whatever he was doing. He put his hand over yours, squeezing it and yet you didn’t squeeze back. “And to your mother. The last six months have been…” He paused. A heavy pause that everyone felt. “Difficult for all of us and I haven’t been around as much as I should have. I’m sorry about that. And so… I’ve decided that I am taking some time off.”

All the boys whipped their heads to look at you as if asking you if it was true. You shrugged. You didn’t know either where this decision had come from, but you were glad that it seemed like he was making true to whatever dribble he had tried to sprout out last night to you.

Toshinori hesitated but looked back at his father with an optimistic look on his face. “That’s… That’s great dad.” He smiled. He looked to his brothers.

Hero and Asahi seemed more excited than you had seen them in a while. Hero nodded his head. “Yah! And just in time for break too! Maybe we can go on a road trip!” He spoke out an idea.

Izuku laughed but nodded. “I was thinking more of a vacation but whatever you boys want.”

“Oh!” Asahi perked up. “What about Australia?”

Toshinori shook his head. “Nah.” He took a bite of his toast. “Mom hates the giant spiders.”

“How about Greece?!” Hero suggested. “Mom was watching Mamma Mia two weeks ago! That place looked so cool and blue!”

You watched the boys bicker about a family vacation which brought a smile to your face. You were glad to see they were some semblances of happy for the first time in a long time.

Your eyes flicked down to where Izuku had his hand over yours still. You gripped his hand immediately taking his attention. You smiled at him as you leaned forward closer to his ear. “Good job, honey.” You said, enough that if the boys looked it would have been innocent, but Izuku knew what that was. He didn’t need it spelt out to him.

You placed a kiss to his lips, brief and to the point, making the boys gag. “Ew!”

“Mom! Please not at the table!” Asahi let out in deep exasperation.

Izuku was still for a moment, tears burning at his eyes. Your kiss was fake. Your praise was fake. Everything was a show, a play for the boys to be happy. You were still disappointed in him. You would always be disappointed in him.

He let out a shaky breath and smiled. “Hey! Leave my wife alone.” He said jokingly.

No matter what, he’d carry for the rest of his life, the fact that he had disappointed you.

-Glitch1d

[Izuku Midoriya Masterlist]

[Cheating Dilf Izuku Masterlist]

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