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kanerallels · 1 year ago

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No no please I desperately want to hear your Bode opinions, I crave to know if anyone else has the same geek kind I do

Oh my stars Anon I got this ask and I am VERY pleased by it but also like. prepare for me to have an objectively wrong opinion here. It's not the, generally speaking, correct one, but it's just the one I have

Anyways I'm gonna put this under the cut because it's gonna get long and spoiler-ful but! Here are two posts that I think have amazing takes on the situation as well!

Post one

Post two

Let's start at the very beginning. It took me forever to actually get this game, and due to that fact and my lack of self control, I found out quite a few spoilers about the game. (not everything, but a lot of stuff.) This included Bode's betrayal

At first I was like, oh this random guy is gonna betray me! Guess I gotta prepare to be super ticked off for a little while since I always handle betrayal arcs in fiction like an adult (that's a lie. I do not handle betrayals in fiction well At All. Still getting over the Billy Russo situation in The Punisher and don't even get me started on season one of AOS-- both of which I also saw coming. I digress, but that was relevant)

But then. I started playing Coruscant. And Bode showed up

Logically, I was like "oh random dude who's gonna betray me-- better not get attached."

About ten or fifteen minutes later he was my (or Cal's, technically) new best friend. As you can see, it went really well (he was befriending BD too, okay???)

Okay rabbit trails aside-- I really, really liked Bode as a character. So much so that I kept forgetting that he was going to betray me, and that I shouldn't get too attached. I liked his ridiculous quips and his loyalty to Cal and the fact he kept calling him "brother" and his obvious and fierce love for his daughter and how much he shipped Merrical

So when he did turn evil... it hurt. A lot

Like I said, I don't handle these things well. And in a video game-- where I tend to project onto/pretend that I am the character-- it was just as bad, if not worse

And yet, despite all of that, despite everything he did to Cal and the crew, despite him killing Master Cordova and causing so many terrible things to happen. I couldn't really bring myself to hate him

For two reasons. Number one, if I let myself go down the road of actively hating a character like that, it will not go well. I speak from experience

And number two, Bode seemed to regret what he did. That scene right before the second Merrical kiss, on Jedha? He looked like he wanted to tell Cal, but (in his mind) knew he couldn't because he had to protect Kata above all else

On Nova Garon he called Cal his best friend, and he sounded so sad, like he knew he'd destroyed the relationship beyond repair

(we ain't touching on Bode on Tanalorr. Everything he did there was objectively terrible)

The point is... I get that Bode is supposed to be a bad guy, but I'm never gonna see him that way. I'm gonna see him as consumed by his own fear, so terrified at the idea of losing his family again (after all, the Jedi Order was his family first. Losing them, and then his wife? That's just trauma on top of trauma) that he will do LITERALLY anything and justify it with the fact that he's doing it for Kata

He's just so AFRAID. And fear leads to anger (which is a secondary emotion, as my mom likes to say. Anger never comes from nothing), which leads to the Dark side

And while there's part of me that still thinks that he was being an idiot about this whole situation (sir Tanalorr is a whole hecking planet?? Guarded by a freaking impassable nebula?? That's why you're here in the first place) the other part of me knows that when you're guided by that much fear, you're not thinking clearly

So yes, Bode did terrible things-- he killed Master Cordova. Indirectly, he caused Cere's death (which, unless I'm remembering wrong, which is totally possible, I don't think Cal blamed him for that? He seemed to blame Denvik-- but again, I could be wrong). He manipulated Cal and endangered his daughter with his rage on Tanalorr and nearly killed both Merrin and Cal and KRIFFING HIT MY BELOVED BD 1

But when I look at his motives? At first, I forgive him, because that's what I'm called to do. And at the point where he reaches no return, I just pity him

And honestly I think in the end that's where Cal ended up too? Like, he was obviously angry and hurt and going through a lot, but he did want to give him a second chance. And I think if Bode hadn't be so focused on what could happen and how he could possibly lose more family, he could have accepted that

But he didn't. Instead, he committed atrocities, and I do condemn what he did and how he handled the situation. It was wrong. But I'll always be more inclined to imagine the world where he did trust Cal, and got a second chance

But yeah, there are some of my extensive thoughts on Bode Akuna! There are a few more small things, that I may post about in the future-- but I'd LOVE to hear what your take on him is, Anon! Even if we disagree, I'm still very curious. Thank you very much for the ask, if you got this far, I appreciate you reading!

(TL;DR-- Bode Akuna did so many bad things but I do think he regretted them, no matter how much he justified them in his mind and to others. And I personally am forgiving him and imagining worlds where he made the right choice)

#thanks for the ask!#bode akuna #jedi survivor #jedi survivor spoilers #cal kestis #nightsister merrin #bd 1 #kata akuna #i do think that attachment was a part of it which i'm not putting in the main post because it will get wildly misinterpreted #and i don't want to pick that fight today #but i will say i'm not saying his attachment (meaning love) for his daughter is what caused it #i'm saying his unwillingness to even chance the fact that his daughter could get hurt at the cost of hundreds of other's lives #is what caused it #now i'm not a parent so i don't know what it's like #but i know that you're supposed to protect your kids #but also you're supposed to not commit atrocities. it's all about finding that balance ya know?#*fake cough* like kanan jarrus *fake cough*#but that's a whole other post i'll make someday if i feel like it #long post

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softguarnere · 3 months ago

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Help girl I'm writing fics set in this au that are above my skill level

Anyways, here's 5 times Tony saves Chiara + 1 time she (unknowingly) saves him

Five-year-olds should not be this argumentative.

Crap, okay – six-year-olds. But, to be fair, it’s easy for Tony to forget Chiara’s age by virtue of the fact that he was being tortured in a cave when her birthday rolled around back in April. But the sentiment still stands – someone so young shouldn’t be so damn stubborn.

Although it’s not even really the kid’s fault when half of her chromosomes are Stark and the other half are St. Claire. Tony doesn’t know much about Monica’s family, but the woman was the best damn lawyer he ever met, so arguing is basically in Chiara’s blood. Which currently does not bode well for him.

“But I don’t want to go!” Chiara insists. Even though the kid hasn’t seen her mom since the week she was born, she somehow crosses her arms and makes the exact same disappointed expression that Monica basically trademarked – the one that made regular appearances during her arguments with Tony. It also doesn’t help that Chiara is basically a miniature version of her.

“You love Disneyland,” Tony counters. “You’re always begging me to take you.”

Chiara frowns. And, okay, the frown is actually all him. Tony knows for a fact that’s exactly what he looks like when he makes that face. The combination of genetics at play here would be fascinating to analyze if he wasn’t so busy trying to get his daughter out of the house.

“Because I like going with you. I want you to take me,” Chiara says. “I don’t wanna go with Katherine!”

Katherine? Tony could have sworn the nanny’s name was Jessica. Oh, well. No matter what her name is, she’s attractive, and she seems nice enough. Pepper trusted her enough to hire her when Tony tasked her with finding a good nanny. That was really all it took to convince him at the time – good looks and the seal of approval from Pepper Potts.

Tony sighs. “Well, you’re not going with just Katherine. I mean, for the first night at least, but then I’m gonna meet you guys there.”

Brown eyes narrow at him from between a furrowed brow and a pouted lip. “Promise?”

“Yeah, Ari. I promise.” If nothing bad happens to me before then, a pessimistic voice in the back of Tony’s mind nags. If I can figure out what’s going on and stop it before someone comes after me – or you.

“Because you promised not to leave me again,” Chiara reminds him.

Shit. That’s true. But that was under different circumstances, when he first got back to the States. Things have changed now. And, most importantly, Chiara can’t know that.

Tony kneels down so that he can look her in the eye. It seems more fair if it feels like they’re on an even playing field. “I’m not leaving you, Ari. It’s just for a little while so that I can get some things worked out. But you’ll have so much fun at Disney that you won’t even notice that I’m not there.”

Under her breath, Chiara mutters something that sounds suspiciously like I always notice, but Tony doesn’t have the heart to call her out on that kind of thing. Not anymore. Not when she’s right. So instead, he reaches out a hand and ruffles her dark hair before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

I’m doing it to keep you safe, he thinks to himself, as if thinking it forcefully enough will make her realize that this is necessary without scaring her. You’re my whole world now, but I have to protect you from what’s out there in the real world.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” Tony promises as he sends Chiara off with Katherine/Jessica/whatever her name actually is. He stands in the doorway and watches as the car pulls out of the driveway. From the back window, Chiara’s little face appears, looking sad, but at least offering him a wave. And he returns it, and keeps returning it, until the car is completely out of sight.

“She’s gone,” Obidiah is saying not even an hour later when he’s got Tony lying paralyzed on the couch while he monologues in true villain fashion. “That’s good. I actually like that kid. She’s smart. Unlike somebody I know, she might actually have a chance. And I would hate to have to see her get hurt because of you.”

The implied threat somehow hurts worse than having the Arc Reactor ripped out of his chest.

Yeah, me, too, Tony thinks as one of his life forces is ripped away from him. At least the other is over halfway to Disneyland by now. Which means that Tony has done it – because as long as Chiara isn��t in this line of fire, then Tony has kept his world safe.

II.

Ah, shit. Tony should have known better than to leave Chiara by herself, even for a few minutes.

It’s not that the kid is poorly behaved, or anything. The opposite, actually. In public, she’s so polite that Tony actually starts to question whether she’s his kid or not, because there’s no way a Stark could be that down to earth, right? Despite everything that’s happened since the press conference, Chiara is still joyfully optimistic towards most strangers. As far as Tony knows, there isn’t a single person on the planet that she hasn’t ever greeted with a smile and an excited exclamation of, “Hi, I’m Chiara! How are you?”

No, it’s other people’s behaviors that are usually the problem. Like right now.

“Fuck,” Tony mutters to himself as he walks back to the table. This is his own fault. He told himself that Chiara would be fine sitting by herself for a few minutes while he stepped into the bathroom to check his blood toxicity. It’s also his fault for giving the kid’s nanny the night off. Although, in Tony’s defense, that seemed like a really nice idea at the time. After all, he’s trying to spend more time with Chiara, as much as he can. And when he’s gone, he wants her to have good memories of just the two of them, like a normal kid would – not the two of them and Happy lurking in the peripheral for security, or the two of them plus the hot nanny who she’ll have all the time in the world with once the palladium finishes catching up with him.

He had assured himself, too, that no one would bother Chiara out here on the balcony of the restaurant. It’s their first night in Monaco. There can’t be that many people who know the Starks are here already.

Not for the first time in his recent life, Tony is proven wrong.

“And there he is now,” one of the reporters gushes as she looks up and spots Tony coming towards them.

He wants to scowl. Wants to snap at them all to get the hell away from his kid like any normal father would. These people are vultures, the whole lot of them. There’s no telling what they’ve asked Chiara, taking advantage of her age to trick her into saying something she doesn’t really mean so that they can get a headline or a good soundbite. Tony would know – people used to do the same thing to him when he would go out with Howard as a kid.

“Hi, Daddy!” Chiara chirps brightly from where she’s holding court. She’s sitting exactly where Tony left her, just like he told her to, and the group of reporters have made themselves at home in the empty chairs surrounding her, or even just standing crowded around her with their recorders and mics. Oh, to touch the hem of a Stark’s garment must mean the world to them.

There was a time when Tony wouldn’t have cared about a scene like this. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even have noticed it, because he would have been next door gambling, drinking, and otherwise taking advantage of all the Monte Carlo has to offer. He would have made some comment about how Chiara will have to get used to being the center of the media storm sooner or later, and that it’s best she learns young . . . But everything has changed since the cave. Since Yinsen’s stories about his own family. Since the Arc Reactor and Iron Monger.

How can Iron Man save the world when he can’t even protect his own daughter?

Tony still wants to yell, to snarl, to chase them off. Instead, he plasters on his best media star smile and plays the game.

“Hey, princess,” Tony beams, because even if he would take out all these reporters, he could never be mad at Chiara. “Who are your friends?”

Chiara can’t possibly realize how funny it is when she begins pointing to individual reporters and telling Tony their names and what media outlet they work for, as if this is the answer he’s looking for. But these media vultures eat it up, laughing and gushing over the heiress as she does so, looking absolutely thrilled when she knows who they are.

Normal kids don’t have to do things like this, part of Tony’s mind points out, which makes him want to frown. But part of him almost wants to smile, because that (vain) part of his mind counters with, The kid is a natural. She’s got them all wrapped around her little finger, and she doesn’t even know it.

“Ah,” Tony replies. Reporters part before him like the Red Sea as they jump out of his way, clearing a path and allowing him to reclaim his seat next to his daughter at the table. Good. They should be afraid of him. And Chiara, too, for that matter. Tony takes off his sunglasses and settles them over his daughter’s face, partly because he knows she likes wearing them, and partly to give her armor to protect her from this media battle that she doesn’t even know she’s fighting. “Well, as much fun as I’m sure you’re all having together, this was supposed to be a father-daughter dinner – not a playdate.”

A good chunk of the reporters take the hint and respectfully excuse themselves. The others – too many for Tony’s taste – hang on a bit longer, trying to get one last picture, one last comment.

“Mr. Stark,” an all too familiar voice of one of the hangers-on pipes up. It’s some lady from Variety – or maybe it’s Rolling Stone? – who usually paints Tony in a very generous light, but who he couldn’t care less about right now. “Some of your critics have pointed out that you being Iron Man puts your daughter in danger by association, and that people might attempt to harm her in order to get to you. Do you have any comments on that?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have given Chiara his sunglasses, because without them, there’s no hiding the way that Tony’s eyes narrow at the group of reporters, as if he’s challenging them all with his answer. He’s officially done playing the game for the night.

“Yeah, actually,” Tony replies. “I would tell anyone who wants to hurt Chiara the same thing I’m politely trying to tell all of you – stay the hell away from my daughter.”

III.

“Sir?” If artificial intelligence can sound concerned, then that’s definitely the adjective that describes JARVIS right now. “Sir, there appears to be a situation –”

Tony can’t help but scoff before JARVIS even finishes his sentence.

“Yeah, J,” he snarks. “There’s sort of a situation everywhere at the moment.”

Which is an understatement, actually. There are aliens invading New York City. There are screaming people running every which way. There are buildings being demolished and cars being crushed. And the sound of it all. Good Lord. It’s like a symphony of chaos and destruction that’s underscored by the stench of smoke. So, yeah – there is very much a situation.

“ – with Chiara,” the AI finishes.

Tony stops his suit mid-flight so that he comes to rest at a hovering position where he’s at least upright and can focus. If he were in a cartoon, this would be the part with the sound effects of screeching tires or a record scratch as he stops short.

“What do you mean there’s a situation with Chiara?” he demands.

A map immediately presents itself on the heads up display in his helmet. JARVIS, bless him, has even taken the liberty of marking Tony’s current location and highlighting a route that leads across town. Tony doesn’t even wait for an explanation; he shoots off in the direction of his daughter.

“Where the hell is Stark going?” someone demands through the comms.

“Family emergency,” he snaps before turning his attention back to JARVIS. “What’s the situation? What the hell is wrong with my kid?”

JARVIS wastes no time trying to sugarcoat it. “Her class was on their way to a field trip at the Hayden Observatory when traffic started to intensify with people attempting to flee the city. The school bus has crashed, and everyone appears to be trapped inside.”

“Shit!” Tony yells. “Fuck!” He wants to hit something. He wants to fly faster. None of those things are currently options.

The most he can achieve is a vague numbness. In most of his body, at least; his heart is slamming against the housing of his Arc Reactor so hard it feels like it could leave bruises. And his mind is on fire, running a million miles a minute as a hundred horrible scenarios flash before his mind’s eye. He’s only held together by one thought, the repetitive mantra of Chiara, Chiara, Chiara –

Tony comes back to himself in the middle of righting the toppled bus. There are crumpled cars and snapped guardrails, but all he can focus on is the cacophony of screams coming from inside the bus as he pushes it rightside up. And, okay, if Tony was ten-years-old and saw a flying metal man with an angry looking mask peering into the windows and saying the name of one of his classmates over and over again, he would probably also be terrified. Rightfully so.

To be fair, though, Tony doesn’t actually remember finding Chiara. He doesn’t remember locating his unconscious daughter slumped against one of her classmates near the middle of the bus as he helps extract the teachers and the kids from the wreck. Doesn’t remember flying with her to the nearest hospital, either, and taking her to the ER for her broken arm. All he can remember, all he can really think, is that this is his fault, because he’s the parent here, and he transferred her from her school in California to this fancy private one in New York so he could work from Stark Tower –

“JARVIS?” Tony says as he exits the hospital and takes off, ready to launch himself back into the fray with the people who keep trying to yell questions at him through the comms. “When this is over, withdraw Chiara from her school. From now on, I want the kid to have a private tutor, and there will be no field trips unless I’m available to go.”

“Yes, sir. I’m on it.”

IV.

Who knew that the most terrifying words you can hear as a parent are “Dad . . . I screwed up”? Because Tony sure as hell didn’t.

No one taught him how to be a father. And for the first five – no, closer to six – years of Chiara’s life, he was a pretty shitty one, looking back. He still doesn’t know what he’s doing half the time. Most days he just tries to roll with the punches.

But this isn’t even a punch. This is a straight up knife to the kidney. Because this means that Tony still isn’t doing a good job.

Dad . . . I screwed up, Chiara had admitted breathlessly one night over dinner after an innocent question from Pepper about how her day went. Then she burst into tears and told Tony the weirdest story he’d ever heard, involving teenage angst, a lonely birthday, and a wish made on a shooting star, of all things.

I know it’s not your fault and that you were on a mission, but I was so mad that I was spending my birthday alone because it reminded me of the one when I was six where you were gone, and I know it’s not true, but I started thinking that no one cares about me, and when a shooting star went overhead I offhandedly thought about making a wish and whispered that I want to be important, and now all this freaky stuff has been happening with shadows, and I think I’ve somehow given myself terrifying magic powers, and I don’t know what to do, because I’m scared, and I need you to fix it, Dad, please fix it, please fix ME –

All said in one rushed admission by a kid who looks like she wants to barf, each word more confusing than the last. Words that should probably upset him due to the deeper implications behind some of them, but that he can’t bring himself to be mad about. No one could possibly be more upset with Chiara than she currently is with herself, even though the kid has gone and accidentally given herself magic powers. True Stark luck, right there.

The problem is that Tony can’t fix it. For all the tests that he and Bruce have run, the best they can figure is that magic is somehow involved. A theory that Thor supports, if that means anything. Tony won’t discount it just yet, because stranger things have happened – fortunately or otherwise.

Who would have thought that the one problem that Tony Stark can’t fix would involve his own daughter? (Monica, probably, which was why she left the second Chiara was born and gave him full custody on the way out, but that’s a different issue, and he doesn’t really have the time to dwell on that right now.)

“You know,” Pepper says one night while they lie in bed. “The worst part is that Chiara has never gotten in trouble. She’s not a problem child. This is the first time she’s ever made a mistake, and . . .”

And it’s life altering, probably irreversible, she doesn’t add, though they’re both thinking it.

Life ruining, if you ask Chiara. She’s so upset about what she’s done that sometimes she bursts into tears seemingly at random. Some days she won’t come out of her room, saying through the closed door that she’s unsafe to be around because her powers are “villain coded.” What an adjective. And from the last person on earth that anyone would consider to be a villain.

“I’ve fucked everything up, just like I always do!” She keeps insisting. It’s always said with such force, too, because she wholeheartedly believes it and seems to be trying to convince everyone else of this supposed truth.

So, no – Tony can’t fix this. He can’t undo what Chiara has done to herself. But he can relate, on some level. He thinks, anyway. After all, he once made a mistake that landed him with a car battery in his chest, which also felt like the end of the world.

There’s no fixing the problem, but maybe he can help.

Chiara’s eyes are red from crying when Tony comes to lead her to his lab. They stay hazy and unfocused until the second she finally notices the mannequin that Tony has set up.

More specifically, a mannequin with a suit on it. Not like Tony’s Iron Man suits. (Chiara would probably never forgive him if he shoved her into one of those tin cans, because even he can admit that seems like the ultimate helicopter parent move.) It’s the same fabric he uses for Cap, Nat, and Clint’s suits, but purple – Chiara’s favorite color – and gray. He’s made a domino mask, too, although that’s less to protect her identity and more for the AI Tony has programmed specifically for this suit so that Chiara can be watched over and protected.

“You like it?” Tony asks, feeling a bit like he’s trying to diffuse a bomb. No – that would be easier than trying to gauge how Chiara might react, actually.

Hesitantly, Chiara approaches the mannequin. It’s impossible to miss the slight tremble in her hand as she reaches up to rub the suit’s fabric between her fingers with curiosity. She glances back at Tony, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Is it –” she swallows thickly. “Is this for me?”

“Sure is.”

There’s a beat of silence where Chiara does nothing but stare at the suit. Tony has almost decided that she hates it when the teenager pipes up again.

“But . . . why?” she asks. “You would let me go out there and stop villains?”

Everything happens for a reason, Monica had once said offhandedly back when she and Tony were secretly dating. At the time, she had really seemed to believe that sentiment. She probably believed it a little less after Tony accidentally knocked her up, but for some reason, that stupid little saying always stuck with Tony.

He’s seen and experienced things he can barely begin to comprehend these past few years. And maybe, just maybe, they have happened for a reason. Believing that there’s a reason for Chiara accidentally giving herself powers is just about the only way Tony can rationalize the whole thing without feeling like he’s going insane.

“Because it’s not about the gifts you have,” he replies. “It’s about what you do with them. That’s what matters, Ari.”

Another quiet moment. When Chiara finally turns to face him, she’s crying again. Her shoulders shudder as she draws in a deep breath. “You really believe that?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he comes to stand beside Chiara, and places his hands on her shoulders. He can’t lie to her like this, but he also isn’t about to tell her that part of him is scared out of his mind over this whole thing.

Everything happens for a reason, Monica had once said. Towards the end, Tony had hated every word that came out of her mouth. Now, though, those words are like a lifeline. One that he can throw out to Chiara.

“I believe in you,” he tells her.

For the record, Tony is well aware of the fact that this is ethically questionable. And/or morally dubious. Maybe some other specific adjective that Monica used to throw at him when he came up with a (slightly impulsive) plan that only he could really see the brilliance of.

But if Tony wants to diffuse this whole thing with the Rouges, then he’s got to take Chiara with him to Germany. And, hey – he’s also taking that Spider-Kid from Queens, so it’s not like Chiara will be the only teenager there . . . Which doesn’t really make the situation any better whatsoever, since that just means Tony is putting two kids in danger instead of one . . .

No – he needs them both if this plan is going to work. Peter is a powerful and surprising addition to his side that will take Cap and the others by surprise if worse comes to worst. And Chiara . . . Well, the kid is powerful, which is useful, obviously. But Tony also knows that the other Avengers won’t be willing to hurt her. She’s young, she’s got a small build. She’s basically everyone’s daughter or younger sister figure at this point. They’d all rather stand down than accidentally hurt her. Tony feels confident about that part of the equation.

Right up until the second that he doesn’t. Because who the hell is this new guy who can shrink down and disappear, or make himself into some sort of Goliath in the blink of an eye? He’s not pulling his punches at all. Doesn’t he know he’s fighting two kids?!

“You’re done,” Tony is telling Peter while the teenager protests in between gasps from where he’s lying on the ground. “You’re through.” He tilts his head back to where he knows Chiara is standing a few feet away, watching the scene with interest. “Chiara?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay with Peter,” Tony commands. “And stay out of the way.”

Chiara is by his side in an instant, balking at her father from beneath her domino mask. “You’re benching me?!”

“Yup.” The faceplate of Tony’s armor clicks shut with a satisfying snap that separates the two of them. “Cap’s team isn’t playing nice anymore. This is now a kid free zone. Capiche?”

“But I –”

“Stay with Peter,” Tony repeats. Then, as an afterthought he knows will work, “Or else you’re grounded and I’ll take your suit.”

Chiara’s mouth immediately snaps shut. Even with the domino mask, it’s obvious that she’s glaring at him when she offers a small nod.

Got her. That one always works.

For everything that Chiara is – or that the press makes her out to be – she at least has good manners. Which means that she has the decency to wait before Tony has flown off to rejoin the fight before she huffs an annoyed sigh and plops down beside Peter on the pavement.

“Grounded?” The boy from Queens asks. He’s got his mask about three fourths of the way off, so Chiara can clearly see his face, can see the confused look that he’s giving her as he sizes her up. Something like understanding dawns on him. “Oh, shit! You’re Eclipse. You’re –”

“Yeah,” Chiara cuts him off. “That’s me.” She takes off her own mask and frowns at the other teenager. “Being a nepo-baby doesn’t keep a girl from being benched, though.”

Peter lets out a breathy sounding laugh as he pushes himself up onto his elbows.

“Well,” he says with a smile. “Welcome to the bench with the rest of us common folk, Miss Stark.”

“Got a family?” It’s just small talk. Just a way to pass the time while getting to know his fellow captive a little better.

Yinsen brightens a little, which wasn’t really what Tony was expecting.

“Yes.” He smiles thoughtfully and says determinedly, “And I will see them again when I leave here.” Then, he does something unexpected – he turns the question back around on Tony. “And you, Stark?”

No, nothing, is on the tip of Tony’s tongue. But then – oh shit! He chokes on it, hesitates as he tries to figure out how to answer.

Shit, shit, shit . . . He forgot about Chiara. Completely, totally forgot about his own daughter. He hasn’t thought of her since the morning he left the States, when he paid her the obligatory visit during breakfast to tell her that he would be gone for a few days, but that they could have dinner together when he got back. He hasn’t thought of her, or the way she visibly brightened with excitement at the prospect of getting to do something together, which she always treats with the same unwavering levels of enthusiasm no matter how sparse or short those rare times are.

What kind of father forgets about his own daughter? He berates himself internally.

Yinsen must take his hesitancy as something else. From behind his glasses, the observant eyes pierce into Tony’s psyche.

“So you’re a man who has everything . . . and nothing,” he notes.

Tony can’t bring himself to correct him. Because Yinsen is actually right. But Tony especially can’t find it in himself as they grow closer, as Yinsen casually drops facts and stories about his family. These people who Tony has never met are spoken of with such reverence that they become real in his mind, and the love that Yinsen displays for them is so powerful that it fuels the doctor’s determination through every new step of their project in a way that most people can only get from prescriptions. That’s a good father.

Before all of this – the explosion, the cave, all of it – Tony had genuinely believed that he was a good father. His theory had been that he couldn’t mess up Chiara the way that Howard messed him up if he only spent time with her under the best possible circumstances. Structured, carefully planned interactions set up precisely in a way that ensured only good childhood memories. Dinner together once a week. Breakfast every now and then, if Tony is awake and not hungover from some party the night before. Renting out the entirety of Disneyland for the kid’s birthday so that she can hang out with all her favorite princesses and feel like the center of the universe for the day.

Center of the universe. And yet, Tony didn’t spare a single thought for her until recently. Chiara hasn’t been the Sun, with everything revolving around her. This whole time, she’s been more like Pluto – on the periphery, only important when someone reminds you that it’s there.

There are protocols in place back home, Tony vaguely remembers. If anything happens to him – which it now has – then the two people he trusts most in the world are supposed to take care of Chiara. No one ever thought it would come to that. At least, not like this. They all probably thought Tony would meet his end drunkenly drowning in a pool at a party, or wrapped around a telephone pole on his way home from one.

He does start to wonder how that’s going. Late at night, lying on the canvas cot and staring at the ceiling through the faint glow of the Arc Reactor in his chest, Tony tries to picture how Happy and Pepper might be handling the situation.

No, not the situation. She’s a kid. The correct way to phrase the question is: how are they handling taking care of Chiara? Has she even noticed that Tony is gone? With their sparse, facilitated interactions, he couldn’t really blame her if she continued going about her life, never noticing that Tony had suddenly disappeared from it. He probably deserves that. After all, he forgot about her until Yinsen asked if he had a family.

The reverence, the devotion that Yinsen speaks of his family with borders on religious. Tony doesn’t believe in God; he believes in science. Besides the occasional wedding or funeral, the most recent time that Tony stepped foot in a church was with Monica – righteous Monica, so full of Catholic guilt – after she insisted on going to one to ask for forgiveness when she realized that Tony had gotten her pregnant. Between all her crying and praying while they sat in a pew, Tony had zoned out, had stared at the stained glass windows, trying to mentally calculate how much solder would be needed to hold all those pieces together. The memory makes him wince now; he definitely wasn’t boyfriend of the year. And he sure as hell hasn’t been father of the year.

Monica had believed in lots of things – God, that everything happens for a reason, that the Diamondbacks were the greatest baseball team. Tony believes in very little by comparison.

Now, though, staring at the roof of the cave, he bargains with whatever might be out there, even if he’s just talking to himself. Hell, Tony Stark and his ego might be harder to strike a deal with than any higher power that may or may not exist.

If I get out of here, I’ll do so much better, he promises the ceiling of the cave. I can’t be Yinsen, but I can be better than I have been. If I get back home, I’ll be so much better than Howard was. If I have another chance, Chiara will have such a good childhood –

And, for what it’s worth, he intends to keep those promises, to the best of his ability.

He just has to get out of here first.

Help girl I'm thinking about the au where Chiara gets raised by her dad instead of her mom

#oc chiara st claire #my writing #okay listen #LISTEN #like half of this is guess-work tbh #everything I know about good father figures comes from interacting with my neighbor who's super nice to me #and seeing how he interacts with his family #so this could honestly be entirely unrealistic and I wouldn't know!#if that's the case and people don't get along with their dads like this . . . then for the sake of the fic we can all be delulu together

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suna-reversed · 4 years ago

Text

“honey, we broke the bed!”

characters- Ushijima, Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Daichi

nsfw!!

Daichi

- headboard grabber !!

- like you know you’re done for as soon as his muscular arms move up above your head and Daichi uses his core strength to rut into you wildly

- but then you’d abruptly find yourself at a new angle which makes Daichi’s thrusts go so much more deeper when suddenly,

*creak*

- Daichi’s first instinct would be to protect you, his hands immediately moving to support the back of your head as he tries to not let his body weight onto you

- “fuck, are you okay, baby?”

- as soon as he’s made sure that you’re fine, you’ll be getting picked up and being pressed against the nearest wall, his lips against yours once more

- “Dai! The bed-”

- “I’ll take care of it later.”

Ushijima

- Ushijima knows his strength when it comes to volleyball,,,but when it comes to other things, not so much

- he’d have been taking you from behind, his body leaning over yours while he grunts and groans into your ear

- you’ll get hit with the panic of a sudden downwards drop, not even having enough time to brace yourself as you wait to fall face first onto the floor

- only to realise that Ushijima’s arm had slid across your waist, holding you up to him. You’d look back at him with wide eyes

- he’d just be staring back at you like 😐

- “y/n, should we move to the couch?”

Iwaizumi

- definitely happens during angry sex

- apparently saying “oh you wanna kiss me so bad”🙄 in the middle of an argument does not bode well-

- and that is how you find yourself being fucked into another dimension while Iwa holds your legs up to your chest

- safe to say you’re stuck in quite an awkward position once the bed gives out, and it’s definitely caused a harsh jerk in your neck

- Iwa, on the other hand, did not only just lose an argument, get cockblocked by a wooden slab, but now also has to feel terrible because his baby is in pain

- At this point, mans would just carry you into the bathroom while cursing the ‘stupid bed’ and the ‘stupid argument’ and ‘stupid gravity’ (and somehow ‘stupid Oikawa’??)

- he’ll cuddle with you in the warm water, his hands massaging the areas on your neck and shoulders that hurt.

- would basically go into complete manbaby mode and take a nap with for the rest of the day, before takes the two of your for bed shopping in the evening

Bokuto

- Another one who really doesn’t realise the extent of his own strength, which is increased tenfold by his excitement around you

- You would’ve been on top riding him, but honestly, he would’ve been doing most of the work with his hips thrusting up into you and his hands fondling your boobs.

- He would literally not care that he just crashed down onto his ass.

- would simply stare at you with wide eyes for a second before continuing like nothing happened-

- fuck you’d be too far gone to care either because like...really? how are you gonna say no to his thick cock that’s hitting the sensitive spot inside you even better because of the new positioning

- he’d most likely click pictures of the broken bed later to send them to Akaashi with a “:)” for some reason

- and then to Kuroo with a “your weak kitty ass could never” 😏

*cue Kuroo dragging his s/o into their bedroom*

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #bokuto hc #bokuto x reader #ushijima fluff #ushijima x reader #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hcs #daichi x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hq smut #hq x you #bokuto drabble #hq hcs #haikyuu crack #daichi fluff #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi hajime

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barbiewritesstuff · 2 years ago

Text

Bad Day

-- Thank you guys for all your requests. I want to apologise for any inaccuracies, I asked my ex-aircadet fiancé about some stuff but I will shamelessly admit that I bent his answers a little to fit my idea…

Request: "Bob gets hurt ( pretty bad ) and rooster has to tell the reader and what not" by

@happyblogsstuff

Tw. For brief mention of pregnancy and and being pregnant, and for main character injuries--

Bob had had a good day.

Or a good start anyway, it wasn't going so well now.

He'd woken up early, spent time having breakfast and coffee before climbing back into bed with you to cuddle. You had snuggled into his chest adorably, eventually gracing Bob with the sight of your beautiful eyes and a sleepy smile. He had kissed you, you'd pulled him over on top of you and things had gone from there.

The day had continued to be good when he arrived on base to find chocolate chip muffins (courtesy of a bet lost by Hangman) in the recreation room and Phoenix, his best friend, guarding one from chocolate-addicted Fanboy to give to him. They had laughed and joked and eventually left for Hangar six for briefing.

He was even looking forward to dinner at your mothers, aka, the best cook in the world. He hoped she'd make her lasagna.

The sky had been blue and void of clouds, the perfect day for flying and Phoenix, Bob, Hangman, Maverick and Payback had all gone up without a worry.

Maverick had waged a tough war against their guns and managed to pick them out of the sky one by one.

Slowly, the sky had turned darker and more ominous but nothing to raise alarm bells.

"Fuck!" Phoenix had shouted when their plane buzzed and initiated landing procedures.

And then the comms died. It took a second for it to sink in that the rest of the plane did too and there was no turning it back on. The plane veered on its side, Phoenix tried to turn it back but to no avail. They were going to crash and there was nothing they could do about it. They couldn't even ask to evacuate the tarmac.

The tip of their left wing hit the landing strip with a nauseating 'CLANG' and their day went from bad to worse. The speed of their aircraft sent it ricocheting into the air spinning madly. Bob could feel a second of weightlessness and then searing pain in his neck at the impact. The plane bounced like a ball six times before landing on its head, effectively trapping them in.

Bob had lost consciousness on the third bounce. He woke up a few minutes later to a suspiciously quiet and confusing world. It took him a moment to realise that the plane was on fire and another moment to realise he couldn't move.

He wanted so desperately to touch Phoenix and check she was alive because the way she was sitting there with her limp arms over her head and resting on the burning canopy didn't bode well.

He lost consciousness again.

----

The rec room had accidentally given them a first row seat to their worst nightmare as pilots.

Rooster had just gotten up for a cup of coffee and a snickers bar from the vending machine when thunder roared. He looked over at Hangman to tell him something and saw lightning strike his teammates' plane straight on the canopy. Whatever Phoenix had been saying through the radio was cut short with jarring suddenness.

He watched it all happen in slow motion. The wingtip clipping the tarmac, sending the million dollar aircraft spiraling into the air and bouncing six times before getting overturned by momentum and hitting the canopy with astounding force.

Everyone in the room was holding their breath, holding hope that at any second one or both would crawl out of there alive. No one did. The plane caught fire, the medics and the extraction team came and Rooster felt nauseous.

He locked eyes with Hangman and both sprinted out of the room and into the tarmac in time for the firemen's arrival. The extraction team worked hard, but cutting scolding metal wasn't an easy time. Rooster could see the medical team getting worried.

Maverick caught up to him, everyone so occupied by the scene in front of them that they hadn't noticed he had even landed. Admiral Simpson joined them a few minutes later, right as the extraction team pulled someone out. It was impossible to figure out which one, as the green flight suits didn't really give much indication and Rooster presumed they had kept on the helmet to keep things in place should something have happened.

Then, they pulled out the second one and they all watched as the medic pulling his guerney draped a white sheets over their legs, scared he was just leaving the job unfinished and that their friend was actually dead.

----

Phoenix had lost consciousness almost immediately. She had felt the lightning strike hit her right above the head and the plane veering on its side and when they clipped the strip, she hit her head and she passed out. The fact that this was a good thing had only crossed her mind later, way after she had woken up.

The fact that she had practically been a ragdoll had made the impact much easier on her body, as her muscles didn't tense up and absorbed shock surprisingly well. But, the nurse had said, she would walk out of here with both legs, both arms and a head, she wouldn't be able to fly again for a while if ever, but right now Phoenix never wanted to see a plane again.

When she had asked about Bob, the nurse didn't sound so sure.

Phoenix had volunteered to call but Rooster thought he'd do it. He was the only one who had met you and he was certain you'd want to hear it from someone you knew. He was pacing the floor of the recreation room trying to find the words when it occurred to him that he never would. So he unlocked Bob's phone and called.

---

You were at your mom's when your phone rang. It was unusually early for him to call. He wouldn't be on lunch for a while yet so it could only mean two things. Either his training had been cancelled due to the weather, or he had had an accident.

You prayed it was the former.

When you picked up the phone, your heart sank, your knees buckled and tears started streaming down your cheeks.

"Y/n, this is Rooster -- err, Bradley Bradshaw -- I fly with Bob. There's been an crash."

Lieutenant Bradshaw had kept on talking but you had stopped listening.

"The doctors aren't sure he'll survive the night" was the only other thing you caught.

You looked around at the room. Your mother and you had been setting up for tonight's dinner. It was a special occasion, you had a surprise.

In a daze, you stepped out of the corridor you had taken the call in and walked towards the open box on the table. Inside was a little onesie saying "Future pilot" and an ultrasound picture.

#fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob x reader #requests

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

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deannaroxannewrites · 3 years ago

Text

Tropetember Day 7 - Mutual Pining / Requited/Unrequited Love / Angst with a happy ending

My boys

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: Teen and up

TW: Angst (all of the angst), Angst with a happy ending, Witness Protection

AN: Day 7 of @tropetember. Another Hotch story that could be expanded into a small series. Enjoy the angst (and fluff because I CANNOT HELP MYSELF)

You've been looking to spending a quiet day with your boys, until a phone call turns your world upside down.

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.6k

You were in the middle of pottering around the kitchen putting your groceries away when the phone rang.

Glancing at it, you realise it’s Aaron. Why would he be ringing you right now? Jack’s soccer game wouldn’t have been finished for very long and they usually got a treat before coming to visit you.

You answer with a smile, you were looking forward to spending the day with your boys.

“Hi sweetie, what can I do for you?” You ask.

Aaron says your name and his voice shakes. You instantly stop what you’re doing. Something is wrong. Something really bad is happening. You can tell.

“Scratch.” He takes a shuddering breath. “Scratch was at Jack’s game.”

You gasp and panic floods through you.

“Is he ok? Are you both ok? He didn’t get to either of you did he?”

"No, he didn't."

There's a pause and you feel your heart start to calm. At least they're OK, although you can't figure out what's happening. Unfortunately, your relief at them both being unharmed is immediately destroyed.

"Jack and I are being put into witness protection."

You hear the glass you were holding smash as it connects with the marble floor of the kitchen. It's funny, you feel like a spectator in your own body. The only other thing you're aware of is that you feel like you can't breathe.

Aaron calls your name a few times but you're hyper fixated on one thing he says. 'Jack and I.' Not we. Why hadn't he said we?

"Can I not come too?" Your voice is small. Lost. "If this madman is following Jack, he'll know who I am, Aaron."

You hear him exhale.

"I know. I tried to get the Marshals to offer you the choice of coming with us." You imagine he's scrubbing his hand down his face in frustration. "They said that, since Scratch's focus is the team, and I will no longer be around or know what's happening, you will no longer be at risk." He lets out a scoff.

Tears silently trace down your face. Your world was ending but, no matter how much you wanted to beg and scream and demand they stay, this was already a done deal. Jack's safety was the most important thing in the world and you wouldn't dare risk it for your selfish desires.

"OK." You take a moment to breathe and clear your throat. "Can you do something for me?"

"Of course."

"Tell Jack I love him? Give him a big hug and kiss and tell him that I'll see him when this is over?"

That breaks him, and he quietly sobs out your name.

"You're going to be OK. Both of you. And I'll be here waiting." You take a shaky breath. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm putting everything into your name. I don't mind if you move into the apartment or if you rent it out and put everything in storage. Just try to hold onto the keepsakes and Jack's stuff."

"I've got it. Don't worry. It's in good hands."

"The very best." He gives a shaky laugh. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault Aaron. God, I love you so much."

You both go quiet, knowing you don't have long until the Marshals disconnect his number.

"I can't ask you to wait for me." He tells you. It makes a sob break through your restraint. "That would be selfish of me. Just know that I love you. And, once this is over, we'll see you again."

"I know, it's OK. I love you."

"I…."

The line goes dead and, like the glass spread across the floor, you break.

---------

The weeks following are hazy in your memory. You imagine it's not totally dissimilar to a bereavement. After all, you'd discussed seeing each other again, but you both knew that there was a chance it may not happen. Scratch had been evading law enforcement for months with ease. He was watching Jack and no-one even knew. It didn't bode well.

Time continued to pass. Eventually, from around the 6th month mark, people started offering to set you up with friends/relatives/colleagues. You weren't getting any younger they kept saying. You can't miss out on the rest of your life.

It was something you were well aware of. You were only a couple of years younger than Aaron so you were moving past your prime, particularly if you wanted to have kids of your own. You couldn't do it though. It just felt wrong when Aaron was out there alone somewhere with a new name and identity. How could you move on? Instead, you focussed on work, even getting a promotion for your efforts.

You didn't move into the apartment, you couldn't bring yourself to. You and Aaron had been discussing moving, and potentially purchasing a proper house with a garden Jack play soccer in in the future, mere days before everything happened. It was just another thing that didn't feel right. Instead, you moved the important things out to Dave's basement. He had the space and it would be much safer than a storage locker. It also helped sooth his guilt over the fact that none of the team were supposed to have much contact with you to try and keep you off Scratch's hotlist.

Since you didn't need the income from the apartment, you instead approached a charity who worked with women and families escaping domestic violence. You'd offered them the apartment at a reduced rate for short term lets that rolled month by month, with potential to go up to a year. The plan was to give people time to get back on their feet and regain their independence in a safe and secure environment.

You'd had two small families in so far. Both had moved on after securing jobs with good salaries and new full time accommodation. They were both keeping you updated about how they and their kids were doing, and you were happy that you were able to help them even just a little. It was empty at the moment and you were busy organising some basic maintenance and were going to repaint some of the rooms to freshen it up.

You'd just been on the phone with Derek, who'd offered to do the small repair jobs you needed doing, when someone knocked at the door.

Glancing at the clock and seeing it was nearly 9pm, you paused and texted Derek as a safety precaution. It was probably nothing, but better safe than sorry.

The knock sounded again, a little more urgent this time, and you hustled to the door to open it.

When you realised who was on the other side, your knees gave way.

There in front of you, looking almost exactly the same as when he left, was Aaron with Jack peeking out from behind him.

Realising what was happening, he reached out to steady you and you threw yourself into his arms, sobbing as if your life depended on it.

He held you just tightly, rocking from side to side until you pulled back. You lower yourself into a crouch and hold your arms out to Jack, who collides with you with enough force to knock you on your behind.

You both laugh as you land on the floor, a light, carefree combination of sounds that tinkles around the room as you press kisses all over his face. Aaron bobs down to join the hug before helping you both to your feet and guiding you all to your sofa.

"I'm so glad you're both back" you tell them. Jack is snuggled into your lap and you're snuggled into Aaron. Declarations of love pass easily and frequently between the three of you and it fills you with warmth.

You spend the evening catching up with them. Apparently Scratch had been caught at the end of last week but it had taken this long for word to get through to the Marshals and for them to organise transferring them home.

Jack tells you over dinner (pizza, Jack picked) about his school and all the things he's learnt since the last time he saw you. Aaron tells you about his cover job as a law clerk in the backwater town of Nowhere, Iowa. In return, you tell them about how you got promoted at work and what you've done with the apartment in their absence. Aaron's eyes shine with pride as you explain the cause and you know it's one that's close to his heart.

Before you know it, it's almost midnight and Aaron is suggesting they go back to the hotel that they've been set up in for the next few days. You won't allow that though. They'll be lucky if they're allowed to leave your sight ever again.

You all brush your teeth together in the bathroom while joking around before getting sorted and all clambering into your bed together.

Wrapped in Aaron's arms, with Jack tucked up against your side, you finally feel whole for the first time since that dreaded phone call.

"My boys," you gently sigh. "I love you both".

Aaron presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and you let the sound of their breathing calm you as you fall into the deepest nights sleep you've had in forever.

Even better, they're still there when you wake up.

#Tropetember #fanfiction #Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #angst #angst with a happy ending #witness protection #jack hotchner

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haloshornsinkstains · 4 years ago

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Kisses Under the Mistletoe: (Formerly) Undateables Edition

I’m enjoying these mistletoe kisses headcanons too much, I should have started earlier. I’m trying to get a few more festive pieces written before Christmas, and hopefully some for New Years (intermittent inernet problems permitting). And make this place a bit prettier.

Diavolo

When Diavolo called for you to visit his office you thought you were prepared for just about anything, after all you’d had plenty of experience of his eccentricities and whims at this point.

So when he started grilling you on festive traditions in the human world while you sat beside him at his desk you weren’t exactly surprised, although the breadth of the information he’d gathered to grill you on was a little overwhelming.

You almost felt bad admitting you weren’t particularly familiar with the festival of Saturnalia, partly because of the way Diavolo’s face fell and partly because it sounded wild.

As you progressed through various traditions you grew more and more comfortable, shedding the usual layer of formality that being in Diavolo’s presence seemed to make you grow, adding your own anecdotes about traditions you followed personally.

He’s writing things down, and you assume, making plans for some kind of festive celebration in the Devildom. It’s all so normal you let your guards down, and as such, get blindsided by his next question.

“What about mistletoe? What is the importance of mistletoe?”

You blink a few times, trying to get the cogs in your brain to function properly. “Oh, um, it’s become tradition to kiss under mistletoe. I think it’s supposed to bring luck…”

Diavolo frowns, retrieving something from his drawer and holding it out to you to inspect. “Then perhaps I should ask Asmodeus why he gifted me this?”

You’re staring at the mistletoe like it’s going to jump out and bite you. (Stranger things have happened in the Devildom, even if this particular plant looks pretty harmless).

“Oh!” Diavolo beams in a way that worries you. “I suppose we should kiss now!”

y/n.exe has stopped working

“I… I can’t! Lucifer would kill me! I mean, you’re the Future King and I’m just… me?”

Diavolo frowns and for a moment you see your life flash before your eyes. If for no other reason than Lucifer is probably going to murder you for upsetting his Lord.

“But, y/n, I would like to kiss you if you would let me.” He’s still grinning mischievously but his eyes are soft with affection. “You’re special y/n. And if Lucifer shouts we can just tell him it was my idea, he rarely shouts at me.”

Your cheeks are on fire but you nod, letting Diavolo cup your face between two large hands and press his lips to yours. The kiss is warm and gentle, almost chaste. He kisses you like he’s afraid he’ll break you, and to be fair he probably could, but it leaves you heart racing and lips tingling when he pulls away.

Barbatos

It’s only been two days and Barbatos would very much like to find out who exactly told his Lord all about human festive traditions, in particular who gave him a record of ‘festive’ music. He just wants to talk. (Not that he would ever say this to Diavolo, he is an impeccable butler after all).

You had been roped in to coming to the castle to help with the decorations, but as you wandered past the kitchen with a box of tinsel and baubles you heard a tired sigh that sounded awfully familiar.

Popping your head through the door you spot Barbatos frowning at a mixing bowl.

“Everything alright in here?”

Barbatos never jumps at anything, but his eyes do look a fraction wider than usual when he turns to look at you.

“Perhaps you could assist me? Lord Diavolo asked me to make a ‘Christmas Cake’, if you’re familiar I could use your expertise. I’m not as experienced with baking human world delicacies.”

You grin, stepping inside and settling your box down on an unused counter and heading to his side to help. “There are some things even you don’t know?” You laugh softly, looking down at the mixing bowl. “It’s been a while since I made one, but I can try to help? The secret to my grandma’s recipe was usually a lot of alcohol though, she’d bake it months in advance and keep topping it up...”

The two of you bake together, and if Barbatos notices the pink flush on your cheeks whenever your body bruises against his, or when he wipes flour from your cheek, he is polite enough not to mention it.

You’ve just put the cake in the oven when Barbatos moves over to the forgotten box of decorations, rifling through curiously before pulling something out.

“Y/N, are there supposed to be plants in here?”

You walk over to see what he’s talking about just as Lord Diavolo walks in with a beaming smile.

“Y/N! Here you are! Oh, I know what that is!” He’s gesturing to what you now realise is mistletoe dangling between Barbatos’ gloved fingers. “That’s mistletoe, Asmodoeus and Solomon were telling me all about it. You’re supposed to kiss under it for luck!”

You’re making up a plan to murder your friends for teaching Diavolo about this while Barbatos studies you thoughtfully.

“If you’ll allow me?”

His voice startles you and you look back up at him for a moment before the words register. You just managed to squeak out a yes before he kisses you and you almost feel your soul ascend out of your body. Barbatos’ kiss is precise and practiced in a way that reminds you just how many more centuries of experience he has on you.

There’s nothing obscene or improper about the kiss, but when you pull away you’re feeling lightheaded and a little weak in the knees. Barbatos smiles just a little before turning back to Diavolo.

“Now, about the cake my lord.”

Simeon

Simeon, unlike the demons, seems to be at least somewhat aware of human world festive celebrations. Some of his knowledge is a bit out of date, but he’s better at this than you expected.

By the time you get to Purgatory hall the place is already pretty well decorated, the decorations lean more towards the religious but you still find tinsel and even a few paper snowflakes dotted here and there.

Simeon greets you as you enter their main common area with a beatific smile and an excited wave. “Oh Y/N, Solomon said there was something I should show you.”

You follow him, only a little wary, Solomon might cause trouble on occasion but Simeon is usually not involved. Usually.

He stops in one of the doorways that you’re pretty sure you’ve never been near before. In fact the corridor behind it looks pretty much unused. It doesn’t bode well for this being entirely innocent, though at least with Simeon involved it’s probably safe.

Coming to a halt he gestures up and you look up towards a sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway. Which would explain why it was so far from the frequently used areas of the halls. You smile softly, shifting your gaze from the mistletoe to Simeon.

“Solomon told you to show me this hmm?” You grin, noting the way Simeon’s eyes flick away from yours. “Did he tell you why?”

“Maybe he mentioned it, maybe he didn’t.”

You laugh, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss that leaves you both breathless and flustered. For all he is an angel, Simeone seems to know an awful lot about kissing and how to do it so you’re weak in the knees.

“You know, if you wanted to kiss me you only had to ask.”

“But this seemed seasonally appropriate.” He hums, gently stroking your hair.

“Very seasonally appropriate. And I guess we don’t need to worry about Luke wandering up here and scolding us.” You laugh, kissing his cheek softly.

“Ah yes, that too.”

Solomon

Any mistletoe shenanigans are entirely Solomon’s own doing and he knows exactly what he’s up to.

He’s been helping you with your magical studies recently, much to Satan’s chagrin, and this evening you decided to study in the House of Lamentation in front of the warmth of the fire.

The night starts wearing on and after a few hours of study you’re getting restless. Solomon pauses to glance over at you and sighs. He knows as well as you do that you’re no longer taking this in.

“Shall we take a break?”

You sigh in relief. “Please? I can make us some tea.”

He nods and follows you to the kitchen where Asmo, Mammon and Belphie were sat in the middle of a discussion. You greeted them happily, laughing as Asmo flirted happily with Solomon. You keep up idle conversation while you make tea, missing the small gesture Solomon makes with a free hand and the ripple of magic in the air.

“Hmm, Y/N, what’s that above your head?”

You pause, glancing up as Solomon sidles over with a smile. You were sure you hadn’t noticed the mistletoe hanging there before, and it was a strange place to put mistletoe, but then again you were busy chatting so maybe it had just slipped your mind.

“You’re familiar with the tradition right?”

Solomon holds your chin between two fingers, suddenly very close, his eyes studying your face questioningly. Somewhere in the background you can hear Mammon exploding and Asmo talking about romance but it’s all lost on you with Solomon’s lips hovering so close to your own.

You don’t trust your voice to answer him, but you do just about manage to nod. You catch the expression of triumph for a brief second before he kisses you. You expected something quick and chaste, but those expectations were swiftly dashed when you felt his tongue brush against your lower lip. Any other day you know you’d have given in, but the clamour of voices behind you are a stark reminder of where you are and who your audience is so you press gently against his chest.

“Oi! Whaddya think you’re doin’ kissing my human like that?!”

“Oh hush Mammon, I think it’s very sweet.”

Embarrassed, you grab the tea and Solomon’s arm, practically dragging him out of the kitchen with Belphie’s eyes burning holes in your back.

“You did that on purpose!”

Solomon shrugged. “Perhaps I just saw an excuse to kiss that gorgeous face of yours and took it?”

“No one hangs mistletoe above a teapot! You did that to annoy them… wait, did you just call me gorgeous?”

“Perhaps. Now, shall we get back to studying?”

You were going to murder him one day. Maybe after another kiss though.

#my writing #headcanons #obey me #undateables #Diavolo #Barbatos #Simeon #Solomon #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #simeon x reader #solomon x reader #GN!reader #GN!MC #mistletoe kisses #halo.writes #halo.headcanons

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years ago

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How do you think Ray would have reacted if Rika took MC in Ray's route the way she does in V's route? Would he still have just let her take you away and not let you and him see each other, do you think?

Ray would have no choice but to allow Rika to take you away. That’s his Savior and what she says goes. If he dares to argue with her, then he’s going to go into the basement and he may never see the light of day again. It’s a fear of his, and even if he thinks that she helped him... it’s obvious that he has an awareness to what she does to him. He’s too scared to voice it.

But, he knows that she’s going to use him like a puppet. He’s been conditioned to never question it. Because if he questions it, he’s going to spin himself into a frenzy of fear that puts him back in his place. He has to be dedicated.

Rika controls his thoughts to “protect” him, and he has to believe it. Or, he’ll be forced to drink the elixir until he’s blitzed out of his mind and there is nothing left for him but darkness. He’s got no choice in the matter if Rika decides to take you away from him.

He’s going to be upset, sure, but do you really think that Ray is going to be able to look Rika in the eyes and say “no”? He can’t do that. If he even gets close, he starts to apologize over and over, bowing his head and claiming that he’s out of turn with what he’s saying or doing. He’s so afraid of disappointing Rika because of what he knows will happen if he does. He idolizes her, fears her, and knows it is true that she won’t hesitate to bend him to her whim. Be it for a good reason or a bad one.

Rika would take away MC... hm. I imagine the most reasonable moment for her to take away MC would be right after the kiss. Instead of punishing Ray down in the basement for hours on end, she could take this chance to further bring out submission in Ray. She knows about the kiss. It’s quite literally why Ray winds up being taken away... well, in my theory anyway.

She knows that love is what will forsake her entire paradise. So, she needs to smother it at the source and make it a worm on a hook, right? If she wants to stop it, she needs to use it for her own desires.

So, taking MC here should be done as a means of control. “Do what I tell you and then I’ll let you have time with MC.” In the midst of this, Rika can threaten elixir and more to make Ray listen. It would prove to be the most useful means of destroying Ray’s belief in himself. He would bow his head, doing whatever his Savior asks of him. He can’t fight it. He can’t fight the Savior.

Rika can either care for MC and keep them oblivious in the dark, or she can manipulate them alongside the elixir while telling Ray that she’s not doing it. There’s no way to know what she might do. Rika can make a choice on the flip of a dime and there’s no way to know if it’s good or bad or worse.

How could he know, anyway?

He’s got to work himself into the ground if he wants to be good enough to see MC... who is shiny and too good for him. There’s many things that Rika could do in this circumstance. Whether she bends MC at the wrist or not, she would hold all the cards. Nobody would be able to stop her... and even if V tried to save MC again, Rika could capture him and take care of that problem immediately. It’s not something that would bode well.

It’s unlikely that V would be able to reason with Ray here, either. I can see V trying to reason with him but Ray slapping V’s hand away. He would insist that he’s got to do something to prove himself. The only way to prove that he’s good enough to do everything for Mint Eye. Then he’ll be good enough for them... but at the same time, if this has been happening for months... and V presses him... it’s likely that Ray might break down in front of him. Tears in his eyes as he’s fully aware that he’ll never be good enough.

He won’t ever give up on you, but Ray just might very well give up on himself if you’re not there to cheer him on. He’ll be crushed. So, yes, he will let Rika take you away. He can’t stop it from happening.

#character analysis #ask #anon #mod kait #ray choi #choi ray #mystic messenger ray #ray mysme #ray mm #mysme ray #mm ray #ray mystic messenger #mystic messenger #mysme #mysticmessenger

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raleighcarrera · 4 years ago

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saved by the bell

foreign affairs | m!blaine hayes x mc (kennedy monroe)

blaine springs kennedy from her date in chapter 10.

catch up: knockout (E) / on the ropes (T) / outpoint (T) / parry (E) / pulling punches (T) / ringside (T)

tagging: @pixeljazzy ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixelsandkink ; @writinghereandthere ; @choicesarehard ; @dakotawinchester ; @flyawayboo ; @withbeautyandrage ; @blainehellyes ; @levineseth ; @gryffindordaughterofathena ; @thefirstcourtesan ; @josieplayschoices

~3.5k words | T

he’s not going to look.

no matter how much his phone lights up with incoming notification after incoming notification, he’s not going to look. blaine refuses to torture himself by checking for photos of kennedy’s date, though his curiosity is eating him alive.

it’s a nice reprieve from worrying about her, at any rate, even if it is maddening.

lately it feels like all he’s done is worry about her, though that’s mostly because kennedy looks to be about an inch away from tears every time she’s around -- not that it’s often, anymore. there’s absolutely nothing worse than seeing her suffer from the sidelines; he still feels just as helpless as he did when he watched her give that first disastrous press conference in his dorm, the day after the pictures hit voyeur.

it’s unbelievably frustrating, being forced to sit on his hands and watch everyone else try to control her life. kennedy’s under a microscope like neither of them have ever been before, and for the first time in his life, he’s in the uncomfortable position of having to be careful -- not because he gives a shit about himself or his own reputation, but because of her, and what it might do to her if he was reckless.

he’s bitten his tongue more times in the last week than he has in his entire life. it’d taken every last ounce of his self control not to snap and defend kennedy at the pet store, not to panic when she’d clued him in on her mom’s newest pr strategy, not to keep her locked in the teacher’s lounge with him for the rest of the semester and refuse to let her go when she snuck out to meet him.

already he knows he’ll never forget the names and faces of the classmates of theirs that’d picked on her. if he ever really does wind up in charge in ardona, one day, he’ll come to power with a ready-made list of enemies, all because of the way they’d made her look when she sunk down low into her seat in class, her shoulders hunched in shame.

he’s laying in bed, moping miserably, thinking over it all when peter pokes his head in with a hesitant knock. “how’re you holding up?” he asks, tactfully, given that blaine’s pretty sure he looks utterly awful. “those daily post photos were... rough.”

blaine groans, burying his face in his hands. “i’m not looking at them. i don’t want to know.”

“that’s probably for the best,” peter says sympathetically, and that does it -- seals the deal completely. he reaches for his phone, snatching it off the nightstand.

dionne’s also texted him, which means the photos are as bad as he’s hoping they won’t be. his stomach twists into knots as he navigates to his favorite gossip site, certain the pictures he’s looking for will be plastered all over the homepage.

sure enough -- there they are: kennedy and alexei, huddled together outside of some swanky restaurant, hand-in-hand. she’s all dressed up for the occasion, because with alexei she’s allowed to be; she doesn’t have to sneak out to see him, hidden under a baseball hat in some far away place where no one will recognize either of them. the point of this date is to be seen, and judging by the crowd of flashing lights surrounding them, they’ve done a perfect job selling their relationship to the press.

so the second picture accompanying the story is an unnecessary twist of the knife -- complete overkill. they’re kissing, in this one, lips pressed together chastely just outside the limo. he feels nauseous.

“they’re probably having a terrible time,” peter says, though blaine’s still staring at his phone, eyes fixed on the photo in his hands. “i heard that restaurant is horrible.”

“it’s fine,” blaine says hollowly, tapping back to his texts to answer dionne. she wants to know how he is, too, and he gives her the same answer: fine. everything is fine.

“you’re so full of shit,” dionne says, when she shows up at his dorm twenty minutes later, her arms folded across her chest and her expression unimpressed.

yeah. he forgot she knows him so well. “well -- whatever,” blaine sighs, dragging a hand down his face. it doesn’t matter. it has to not matter, for kennedy’s sake. “it’s not like i can do anything about it. this is the way it has to be.”

the look in dionne’s eyes grows distant, and he sits up slowly as a smile starts to overtake her face, cautiously optimistic while what’s obviously an evil plan begins to unfurl. “no,” dionne says, “it’s not. i think i have an idea.”

so -- that’s how he finds himself sweating through his jacket, overthinking this whole stupid plan while he waits for kennedy to slip out the back of the stupid opera house and meet him and his stupid rental car in the alley. he thinks back over all the ways they’d had to cover his tracks to get him here: how peter’d had to call in the car, how dionne’d had to threaten and sweet talk alexei at the same time, how there isn’t a single hurdle he wouldn’t leap or hoop he wouldn’t jump through for even just half an evening alone with her.

this is probably a terrible idea. at the very least, it’s dangerous, and sure to get them fucking caught again, no matter how careful they all were in making it happen.

maybe he should call the whole thing off. call dionne and get her to tell kennedy to forget it -- to go back to her date and take the easy way out, because who is he kidding, anyway?

the sound of heels on the cobblestones takes the decision swiftly out of his hands. blaine looks up to see kennedy standing in front of him, admiring the rental with a gentle smirk on her beautiful face. she looks even more ridiculously gorgeous than she had in the daily post pictures, as annoying as that is.

she’s alone.

“no limo? that’s not very romantic, mr. hayes,” she teases playfully, mouth stretched wide with a smile.

he leans over to pop the door open for her, grinning to cover up his nerves. just having kennedy around is going a long way towards keeping him calm -- he feels undeniably more sane out here with her than he had in his room, pouting with fruitless jealousy. “take it up with dionne,” he shrugs, eyes raking up and down her outfit. she really does look nice. “now hop in.”

“we have three hours and forty-five minutes,” kennedy says helpfully, as soon as they’ve slipped out of town unseen and headed to the highway, “i have to be back by curtain.”

“i know,” blaine hums, sighing with relief as soon as he glances in the rearview mirror and sees they aren’t being followed, “dionne briefed me. she figured out a whole plan.”

“oh,” kennedy says. she sounds... happy. “that was really nice of her.” there’s a pause, and he fidgets with the steering wheel for a moment before shifting his left hand up to the top to steer so his right arm is free to drape across the back of kennedy’s seat. she leans in closer to the center console and continues, “i really wish it was you in there with me.”

he exhales heavily. more relieving than not being followed, than being with her at all is hearing that -- that he’s not alone in his insanity. lately he feels like a completely different person, and he has no idea what’s come over him, so it’s comforting to know that it’s all for something, beyond just making kennedy smile. evidently, she wants to be his stupid girlfriend just as badly as he wants her to. “me, too. you have no idea. i’ve really missed you, these past few days.”

“i know. it’s weird,” kennedy agrees, “hardly seeing you. not being able to text you, and tell you about my day... i mean -- i barely even get to talk to you, outside of class.”

yeah. he knows. and when there’s other people around he has to watch what he fucking says, too. it’s far from ideal, and he knows he’s gotten sloppy, but...

part of him almost wants someone to catch them. blaine knows it’s selfish and stupid, but he wants it all the same. because if someone found out the truth and spilled the beans... they’d be free, and the impossible decision of what to do next would be out of their hands.

he could never ask kennedy to go public on her own. he would never ask her for that, no matter how badly he wants it. but a slip-up... that would be beyond their control.

blaine shakes his head. “it’s fine,” he says again, clearing his throat, “i’ll plan some secret meet up for us every night, if you want. even if it only buys us a few minutes.”

he glances to the side just in time to catch the look that crosses her face. kennedy’s quite obviously touched by his offer, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she stares down at her hands. forcefully, he drags his eyes back to the road. “i’d really like that,” she murmurs, so quietly he almost misses it. when he only nods, she raises her voice and asks, “so, where are we going?”

“you’ll see,” he directs, taking the exit that’ll bring them to the drive-in, mentally cataloging the travel time it’d taken to get up here and making a note of the minutes he’ll need to account for to get kennedy back, especially if he has to circle the block until the street is empty before he drops her off.

her eyes light up when he pulls into the parking lot. “a drive-in theater, seriously? i used to love going to the drive-in back home. i didn’t know they had them near vancross.” her nose is practically pressed against the window as she looks around excitedly while he idles.

“this is my first time,” blaine admits, though how eager kennedy is definitely bodes well for the experience. even if it completely sucked, he’d still bring her back every weekend, just to see her smile like that. “we don’t really have these in ardona, but dionne talked it up.”

kennedy finally peels her eyes away from the window to smile playfully at him again, her eyes sparkling. “so you’re a drive-in virgin? interesting.”

his face feels hot, suddenly. blaine rolls his eyes at her, gesturing at the map of the venue in front of them. they’re kind of holding up the line. “yeah, yeah. pick your movie, rutherland. it’s just background noise for the real show, anyway.”

if he’s being honest, he barely hears her make her choice, the instructions on where to go flying in one ear and out the other. all he cares about for where he parks the car is that it’s secluded, and dark, away from prying eyes and any other people in the lot.

fortunately, blaine finds them the perfect spot, and he doesn’t even waste a second pretending like he gives a single shit about the movie at all, his eyes on her just as soon as the gear shift’s out of his hand.

kennedy’s turned in her seat and already looking back at him. she smiles and says, “thanks for doing this. it’s nice to have a normal date. i never pegged you as the type of guy who was all about carnivals and drive-ins and making these fun experiences for us.”

he shrugs, more nonchalantly than he feels. “probably ‘cause i’m not,” blaine answers honestly, “but everything’s different, with you.”

kennedy makes a soft sound of disbelief, lifting her hands to cover her face. when she peeks out from between her fingers, he sees that she’s smiling widely again. “you keep saying stuff like that. it’s so charming.”

blaine laughs, reaching out to tug her hands off her face. “that’s kind of the point.” he clears his throat, then continues more seriously, “but... i want you to know how i feel, you know? you shouldn’t have to guess. the truth is... i’ve been all-in for awhile, now, and -- those pictures were just a shitty setback. they don’t change the way i feel about you at all.”

she reaches out for his hand, and he lets her lace their fingers together, squeezing affectionately. “you have no idea how nice it feels to hear that,” kennedy sighs. “honestly...” the hesitation in her voice makes it clear she’s unsure of whatever she’s about to say, but she continues, “it kind of just felt like i ruined everything. things were actually going pretty well, for once, but now it’s like there’s this... dark cloud hanging over everything i do. i can’t even hang out with you without worrying we’re going to get caught again.”

his expression softens. he’s not usually one for optimism, but for her, and in the interest of getting some of that thick sadness out of her voice, he’ll try. “well, we’ve done a pretty good job avoiding that so far.”

“that’s true.” kennedy’s head tips back agains the carseat, and she smiles at him again. “i guess we’re making it work, in our own way. i love that i can always count on you to be real with me. it’s so -- refreshing, after all the fake posturing we deal with.”

well -- that’s probably as good an opening as he’s ever going to get. he spares a moment to silently thank whatever god is listening for the chance to ask the question that’s been eating at him for hours, the one thing he’s most desperate to know, beyond even the other stuff that usually keeps him up at night, everything from the simple inner workings of kennedy’s mind to why he’s so tripped up over a girl he’s only spent a few short months with. “speaking of fake...” blaine pointedly looks somewhere beyond her, staring out at the parking lot, “how’d your date go?”

kennedy’s quiet for long enough that he has to look back at her. there’s a knowing little glint in her eyes that he decidedly does not like. “are you jealous?”

“what?” he scoffs, “of course not. you left alexei to go out with me.”

“right,” she laughs, one small word injected with endless disbelief. “well, we had a good time. alexei’s not so bad.”

he’s an egomaniac and a self-centered prick, actually, blaine thinks. out loud, he says, “oh. cool. glad it worked out. cool, cool, cool...”

he fidgets restlessly. kennedy’s visible amusement only grows. “you know it was still a fake date, right? neither of us have any interest in the other.”

“i know,” blaine insists defensively. kennedy only arches an eyebrow at him. with a groan, he slumps back in his seat, a hand rubbing at his jaw. “fine, maybe i am a little jealous. give me a break, okay? this is kind of a unique situation for me.”

“if it helps, i think you’re doing a pretty great job.” she’s still smiling at him, but less like she thinks he’s being funny and more like she thinks he’s being sweet. she leans in a little closer, and -- it actually does help. the knots in his stomach that’d been coiled there since she first said her mom’s team was planning a pr relationship for her are finally starting to unwind.

“yeah?” he asks, gratified by the immediate nod she gives. “that’s good. i don’t wanna half-ass this boyfriend stuff just because it’s new to me.”

there’s a long stretch of silence. he realizes what he’s said all at once and starts to feel nauseous all over again, staring silently back at kennedy while he waits for her to say something -- anything.

“boyfriend stuff?”

“ah.” his hand slips around to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly. “sorry. slipped out.” he should probably just cut his losses now -- bring her back early to be on the safe side and go back to his dorm and drown himself in the shower, because he is an idiot and that’s what an idiot deserves. “i know you kind of already have a boyfriend.”

kennedy huffs out a quiet laugh. “i kind of do.” she tilts her head to meet his eyes, forcing him to look at her again. his heart stutters painfully in his chest, picking up into a pace that’s almost frantic. “but... that’s not a ‘no.’”

their hands are still linked together. he looks down at where their fingers are interlaced, hoping his palms aren’t as sweaty as they feel. blaine disentangles his hand to lift it instead to kennedy’s face, pushing a lock of hair out of her eyes with a hesitant smile she immediately returns tenfold.

it’s also not a ‘yes,’ but he’ll take what he can get.

as it turns out, three hours and forty-five minutes is kind of not actually a long time at all.

or maybe it would be, for some people, but with kennedy in his lap, squished between him and the steering wheel so she can kiss him senseless, the time flies by. they watch what’s probably ten minutes total of the movie, they’re so busy kissing and talking, his hands wandering along her new outfit to show his appreciation for it the only way he knows how.

for her part, kennedy gives as good as she gets, tugging his hair out of place and messing up his jacket and making him forget his own name, with the way her hips are pushing into his lap and all the sweet little sounds she makes when he whispers something dirty in her ear and presses her in closer against him.

no amount of agonizing over her fake dates and not being able to kiss her in public is ever going to drive the way she shivers with her whole body when he says something she likes from his mind.

still, the drive back is somber. it’s time to bring kennedy -- kiss-swollen lips and raised hemlines and all -- back to the opera house before he knows it, and he’s really not looking forward to everyone who sees her thinking she spent four hours fooling around in the private box with alexei, of all people. he’s looking forward to driving home alone and going to bed by himself even less.

tomorrow he’ll have to sit by her in class again and pretend like everything’s fine.

because they had tonight, and he knows he should be content with that. the problem is -- he’s not.

“you okay?” kennedy asks, checking the time on the watch on his wrist with a frown. she’s holding his hand in both of hers. “and don’t say you’re ‘fine.’”

“i am fine,” blaine insists, running his thumb across her wrist. “this sucks, but it’s what we have to do. if you’re good, then i’m good.”

she studies his expression for a minute, then sighs. “i’m as good as i can be,” she murmurs, “but things will get better.”

he knows that, too. even if no one ever finds out it’s him in the photos, even if they have to spend the rest of their lives sneaking out and ditching their bodyguards so they can find a few hours alone together -- things are good. the alternative -- winning the fight with his parents to keep him away from vancross, never getting the chance to know kennedy as well as he does... that’s a future that seems bleak, now that he’s seen the alternative.

“it’s really alright,” blaine assures her. “i’ll miss you, but... do what you gotta do.”

something about the way he says the words seems to instill new confidence in kennedy. she straightens her shoulders and glances back at the opera house door with determination. “thanks,” kennedy sighs, squeezing his hand one last time before slowly pulling away. she probably has only seconds until the finale starts up, though he’s desperate for a way to make them stretch longer. an eternity would be a nice place to start.

“will you... text dionne goodnight before you go to bed?” she asks, looking so hopeful he finds it’s impossible to do anything other than nod.

he grins widely at kennedy, leaning in to steal one last kiss. “dream about me, will ya?”

“every night,” she promises, and blaine lowers the window to get a better view of her and the sway of her hips when she slips out of the car and back inside, sighing heavily once she’s gone and he’s alone again, whacking his head against the carseat.

this is some mess they’ve gotten themselves into.

but, he figures, as he pulls away from the curb and starts back towards campus, the image of kennedy walking away in the heels and skirt she’d been wearing playing over and over again in his mind like a highlight reel, it’s definitely not without its perks.

#blaine hayes #foreign affairs #choices foreign affairs #blaine hayes x mc #myfic #long post

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

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Something Wicked

part 10

masterlist

Jin had become a little less volatile in the following days, but he had become almost unbearably smothering when he wasn’t disappearing into his office to take mysterious phone calls. He always seemed to be touching her, kissing her. The man was practically glowing with excitement, and his excitement never boded well for her. She tried at least to enjoy the relative peace while it lasted. He hadn’t tried to initiate anything either. It was a relief for her. There was a lot she could put up with, mostly because she had to, but that was not something she wanted to give to Jin.

She had never like Kim Seokjin. He was not a good man, even before this, but now, she firmly believed that he was the devil. What else could he be? He was the subject of nightmares, the creature that mothers warn their children about. He was the monster her parents had warned her about. She should have gotten away when she’d had the chance. She should have quit all those years ago when she first realized how horrible he was to work with. None of this ever would have happened if she’d taken the job in the first place.

Her father had always taught her to try to find the good in any situation, but she couldn’t find any here. There was no good to be found in Kim Seokjin. In a way she was glad that her father was dead. She would have hated for him to see how far she had fallen. He’d always wanted a good life for her. Maybe if Jin wasn’t psychotic, and they had met in a different life one where Jin had wooed her like a normal man, he could have provided that for her. There was no chance of that now though. Jin had taken everything from her. He’d taken her freedom, her dignity. She had a sneaking suspicion that he had been behind Minseok’s demise. And now, he was going to permanently tie them together.

Jin had presented her with a ring as gaudy as he was, happily slipping it onto her finger gripping her hand a little too tightly for the gesture to be sweet. The large diamond was prominently sat in the middle of a platinum band with two smaller baguette diamonds on either side of the central emerald cut stone. It was a hard piece of jewelry to ignore. Every time she moved it caught the light drawing her eye down to the horrid thing. Jin was so proud of it. He declared it worthy of the future Mrs. Kim, but she detested it. Every time she looked at it, it made her stomach turn. She wanted to chuck it over the balcony and down to the busy streets below, but she refrained too frightened of what Jin would do to her if she did so.

He’d brought in a team of ladies to primp and poke her into the image of Kim Seokjin’s wife, as well as a team to groom poor Jinnie, but not before thoroughly threatening her. Jin couldn’t risk her asking for help. He couldn’t risk his image as Seoul’s golden boy. He was perfect, and his future wife had to be too.

Every time she thought of his dead eyed smile as he’d spoken to her, as he’d threated to kill Jinnie, to hurt her, a shudder went down her spine. It had been a struggle for her to keep quiet when the ladies had been there fixing her hair and doing her nails. Even if she had wanted to speak up, Jin was always there leisurely seated a few feet away giving instructions to the ladies. He wanted her to be perfect, his version of perfect. Her hair was styled to his specifications. Her nails were shaped and painted in a demure neutral color, because the wife of Kim Seokjin was to be a perfectly demure lady, and she hated it. She had never been a very vibrant woman. She’d always been a little softer, a little more neutral, but something about that fact that it was now being dictated to her made her hate it.

She was filled with the urge to take a pair of kitchen scissors and cut off all of her hair. She wanted to paint her nails a violent shade of pink just to spite him, but how could she? He was always there, always hovering over her shoulder. He was so thrilled with the idea of their wedding, and she had never dreaded anything more.

He was almost manic in his excitement. He was constantly bringing her wedding magazines forcing her to choose between preapproved flowers, colors, food. There was nothing that wasn’t already Jin’s choice, not that she really wanted to be involved in wedding planning. She knew what would happen once the wedding took place. She’d be legally tied to Jin in the eyes of the law and the eyes of the public. There would be no escape for her, not that there was much chance now.

She’d learned a lot about Jin during her captivity. She’d always known him to be meticulous, a perfectionist, but there was something about seeing him in all his psychotic glory that stripped her of all hope. He was almost obsessive, no, he was obsessive. Every detail of her captivity was planned just as every detail of their wedding was planned. There was nothing she could do to fight against him, not when he held all the cards.

“Hello, my darling.” Jin greeted her placing a kiss to her forehead. She was getting better at accepting his displays of affection, or she was had been well trained. Any rejection of Jin was met with violence so she kept herself calm. She kept herself gentle and passive just as Jin wanted her.

“How has your day been?” He asked sinking down to sit next to her.

“It’s been fine.” She smiled setting her book aside. She wasn’t allowed to do other things when Jin wanted her attention. Her focus was always to be on him. He was a narcissist at heart. Everything had to be about Jin. “Do you have anything you want me to look over?” She asked. Jin wanted her active and excited in the wedding planning, so she pasted on a smile and pretended as best she could if only to keep him calm.

“No, darling.” He cooed smiling gently as he played with her hair. “Not right now, we have almost everything decided. It won’t be long now.”

A thought she dreaded. Marriage to Jin was the last thing she wanted, but it wasn’t as though he was giving her a choice.

“What’s that?” She asked looking at the file resting on his other side. If he’d brought it instead of taking it directly to the office, it had to have something to do with her.

He smiled picking up the file and opening it up. “This? This is your medical file, darling.”

She froze dread filling her. What could he possibly want with her medical records? How had he even gotten them? She wasn’t sure who to be more upset with, Jin or her doctor, but the likelihood of her ever seeing the doctor of her choice again was slim. It would probably be Jin’s choice from now on. He was an overbearing bastard.

“We’ll have to get your IUD removed.” He mused flipping through the pages. “We’ll be needing an heir, and that pesky little thing will get in the way.” He looked back at her gently brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “But we can take care of that after the wedding. I want to enjoy you before we have a son.” He leaned in nipping at her ear.

“A baby?” She whimpered doing her best not to flinch away from him.

“Of course, darling.” He chuckled trailing light kisses down her neck. “Mother and father are anxious for grandchildren as well. Seokjung won’t be much help to them in that regard.”

She stiffened even more at the mention of his brother. It was rare for Jin to bring him up. Not many people even knew the fate of the older Kim brother, but she had been working with Seokjin for years. She’d even met the man a few times, quite the feat considering how the family kept him away from the eyes of the public. The poor man wasn’t even mentioned with the rest of the family, not since the accident.

Kim Seokjung was set to inherit the company until there was a skiing accident when the brothers were in high school. Seokjung had ended up paralyzed from the waist down and had become effectively useless in the eyes of his upper crust family. He received the best of care, but his life was essentially over. Seokjin had risen as the only son and heir of the Kim family.

Of the two, Seokjung was definitely her favorite. He was a pleasant man, far more pleasant than the rest of his family and surprisingly optimistic considering the life he’s been thrust into. Assistants had no place in private family matters, but Jin had insisted on bringing her to the family home on more than one occasion, and that was where she had met Seokjung.

She first encountered him in the kitchen in the family home. To say that both of them had been surprised would have been an understatement. She had only been working for Seokjin for a year, and she had never heard mention of a brother, but they’d quickly settled into conversation seated at the little breakfast nook in the vast kitchen with a cup of tea that Seokjung had made for them himself. There wasn’t much for him to keep himself occupied now that he was effectively under house arrest by his own family, but he was excellent at making tea. He was also an amateur chef. She loved talking to him. The few times she had met him were the highlight of her time working with Jin.

One thing that never made sense to her was the accident. Both Seokjin and Seokjung were very athletic back in the day. Seokjin was still athletic. One of the things that the Kim family excelled at was winter sports. Seokjin preferred to snow board, but from what she had heard, Seokjung was quite the accomplished skier. They’d been to that resort hundreds of times. He’d skied those hills all his life. The conditions hadn’t even been bad on that fateful day, but something had gone wrong, so wrong that Seokjung no longer had the use of his legs. Now knowing Jin more, she now had to wonder if he had had something to do with the accident. She wouldn’t put it past him, not now.

“Wouldn’t that be nice, darling?” Jin cooed bringing her back to the present as he nuzzled into her neck. “A little son.”

“I don’t… I’m not…” He breath hitched as Jin nipped at her neck more harshly.

“You’re not what, darling?”

“I’m not ready for children.” She whispered trembling as she waited for Jin’s reaction.

Jin pulled away staring her down before a grin stretched across his features. “Not to worry, darling. We can wait a little before we start our family. I want to enjoy you first.” He purred nipping her neck again.

“No, Jin.” She whispered pushing him away gently. “I don’t want children.”

She had always been on the fence about kids. It was the biggest fight that she and Minseok had ever had. He’d wanted a houseful of them. She wasn’t even sure she wanted them. She’d never had siblings, and she’d cared for two ailing parents in her life. Kids had never really crossed her mind, but she knew she definitely didn’t want them with Jin. She doubted she had much choice on that either, but she had to try.

Jin frowned before pasting on an indulgent smile. “Two I think. Two boys. Doesn’t that sound nice, darling?”

“I don’t…”

Jin cut her off his smile becoming more strained, his eyes darkening. “You don’t know what you want, darling. That’s why you have me.” He pet her hair his tone taking on a condescending air.

“Jin…”

“My poor stupid darling.” He cooed pulling her up onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “How did you ever survive without me?” She grit her teeth restraining herself from snipping at him. She’d gain nothing from upsetting him even more than she already had. “Don’t worry, darling. By this time next week, we’ll be married, and you’ll never have to worry again. Daddy will take care of you.”

Yes, that was exactly what she was afraid of.

part 11

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts jin #yandere seokjin #ceo seokjin #bts seokjin #seokjin x reader #jin #jin x reader #yandere jin #ceo jin #ceo #ceo au #dark romance #something wicked #fanfic #bts fanfic

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 4 years ago

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Aaron Hotchner / Reminders and Reunions

Request: You and Hotch attend his high military school reunion together

Warnings: fluff, some angst, mentions of hotch’s dad, brief mention of what happens in “100,” some harassment by a dude, hotch saving the day, a little possessiveness from reader,

Word Count: 3.155

“Are you ready yet?” You called from the bedroom, slinging your laptop bag over your shoulder, as you glanced back at the closed bathroom door, "Aaron, just because you stop replying doesn't mean you can trick me into forgetting about the reunion."

"Are you sure?" You chuckle, turning as the door opened. You raised your eyebrows, watching him adjust his black suit coat, a crisp white button down underneath with a red tie — and you didn't miss the engraved silver tie clip you had bought him on your first anniversary, "because I have other ways of making you forget." He adds, raising an eyebrow at your gaping mouth and lingering stare.

And yet he can still make your cheeks burn, rolling your eyes, as he faces the mirror giving you a very nice view of his ass, “Nothing could make me forget this — not even your cute ass.”

He came close enough though.

He sighs, adjusting his tie in the mirror before you rise, walking around him and taking the tie from his fingers. You make quick work of fixing the knot yourself, a tired habit at this point because even though he was fully capable of doing it himself, he loved to have you do it. His eyes softened as he watched you, his fingers brushing down the length of your sides, pausing at your hips, “Do we have to go? More importantly, do I have to go without you? Can’t I just wait for you?”

“When you’re being honored at your high school for your service in the FBI? I don’t think so,” you smile up at him, your fingers finding his cheek. He leaned into your touch, despite his growing frown.

“It’s military school,” he corrected you, lips a thin line now.

“Yes, because you were a troublemaker — how could I forget?” He covers your hand with his own with a sigh, the corners of his mouths twitching, but still very much in a frown, “come on, I’ll be there soon enough. I just to—”

“Drop something off to the office, I know,” he finished. You hum, as your arms wrap around his neck, his large palms grasping at your waist, slipping to your lower back. His lips are only a breath away, his lips nearly ghosting your own, your fingers toying with the hair that rested on his neck.

“Tell me again how you know me so well,” he leans down, pressing a kiss to your now thrumming pulsepoint and he chuckles, the vibration sending a shiver down your neck. Another kiss pressed now to your collarbone, his fingers tug the collar of your shirt back, and he smiles against your skin.

“Might be the profiling,” he hums, as you tilt his head back up to look at you again, “might be the holy matrimony.” and you don’t miss the way the metal band of his ring grazes your cheek as he cups it.

“I knew I married you for a reason,” you smile against his lips as he kisses you, lips sliding together, parting as you giggled, “profiling makes being passive-aggressive so much easier.”

He scoffs, slowly walking you backwards towards the bed, the bag slipping from your shoulder, “And here I thought you married me for my good looks,”

“That too,” you murmur, as he presses you against the foot of the bed, “you’re doing a good job at that distracting thing,” and his lips find yours again, noses bumping, and your hands find his shoulders, finding it hard to say the next words that reluctantly leave your lips, “but you still have to go.”

“But we could have our own fun here,” his voice is husky, and you know he’s right — you can think of several examples from this morning alone of ways you two could have fun, several of which involve the very tie around his neck, but—

“Is there a reason you are so insistent on not going?” you tilt your head, as his gaze drops, “because we really don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought it would be a nice way to reflect on how far you’ve come.”

“I’ve come far?” and you roll your eyes, before pulling him onto the bed, your leg over his. You only wished you could really articulate how far he’s really come, how far you’ve seen him grow, how far you know he will grow in the future — but you can’t. Not really. You could list the things he’s done, the things he’s accomplished, the things he’s gained, the things he’s lived through — but nothing would do it service, nothing at all. Because words were incomparable to Aaron Hotchner, and you supposed, your fingers tracing his jaw, that’s why you married him.

“I know you have — I’ve seen it,” your thumb brushes his chin, brushing his bottom lip and he kisses the pad, “and I can’t wait to see where else you go. But the reunion doesn’t have to be one of them, if you don’t want to. I just thought it might be a good reminder.”

He sighs, “I haven’t been there since my graduation — did you know that was one of the last time I ever spoke to him?”

And you purse your lips, watching the muscle in his jaw clenching, his fingers digging into his knee, “I didn’t know that — I knew you hadn’t spoken to him since military school but—”

He gives a bitter chuckle, “I didn’t even invite him — the school did,” he leans over, elbow propped against his knee, “It was the first time in my life I felt like I didn’t have to answer to him. It was the first time I was able to walk away from him and choose something for myself. And I chose to cut him out,” he rubbed at his chin, as your arms winded around his, one arm around his back and the other around his arm, “It wasn’t until he was sick, dying in the hospital that I ever saw him again, and by then...it was too late for words.” The weight of the words pressed against his chest still, a weight that would never ease from him, but your fingers intertwined with his, but one you hoped you could help bear.

“Aaron—”

“I don’t regret what I did, to him, at least,” he shook his head, eyes glassy, “do I regret leaving Sean there? Yes. Do I wish I could have seen my mom more? Of course. But,” his eyes flicker to the dresser, lined with photos of your family — of him, Jack, Haley, you, and the team, and then back to you, “it’s what got me here,” he presses his forehead to yours, “it's what got me to you.”

“If I have to thank that man for anything, and it’s very, very little,” he chuckles, as your fingers find his cheek again, “I would thank him for you existing, and for whatever he did or didn’t do, because you’re Aaron Hotchner because of it,” and then you shrug before adding, “and then I’d punch him in the face, but that’s besides the point.”

He laughs, leaning forward to kiss you, pressing both of you into the soft mattress, his lips tasting of the bitter dark roast he preferred dancing in contrast to the sweet taste of something unmistakably him, “I love you,”

“Right back at you,” you murmur, pulling him to you again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you curse under your breath, a colorful string of expletives that you hope no one caught wind of as you bustled down the street, only two minutes away from the venue, according to your phone. You promised to be there half an hour ago, but of course, someone had to screw up your paperwork, and it took five times longer to fix then it did to actually submit it.

Lovely.

And now you were late to the event that you had convinced Aaron to attend. His short, terse text message didn’t bode well of his time there without you, but you would be sure to make it up to him tonight. Trying to even your breath, you found the building, adjusting your hair and your clothes — you barely had enough time to change at the office. You were sure you terrified half the people in that office tonight, but you would apologize tomorrow — it was the only way you could get here on time tonight.

And you did, pushing the front door open.

Barely.

You found your way to the room where the alumni were dining. No signs present — didn’t think that would be helpful would they?

“Are you looking for the reunion?” a voice asked. You snapped your head to find a man standing beside you, a little too close for comfort. His snarmy voice matched his blonde slicked back hairdo, and his sleazy smile had you w “I couldn’t help but notice you looking utterly lost.”

“I am,” you take a step back, shoving your disgust away, “can you point me in the right direction?”

“I can, but I don’t believe I recognize you,” the man’s hands slips into his pockets, tongue darting out to lick his lips. You barely can hide your disgust, “You’re not crashing the party are you? It would very bad of you,” his teeth graze his bottom lip, his fingers running through his slicked back hair, “But I would be willing to teach you a lesson.”

“I’ll pass on the lesson,” you keep your voice tight, knowing you would catch more flies with sugar then you would with vinegar and right now, you needed this fucking fly to tell you where the reunion was, “I’m not crashing, I just need to know where—” he tilts his head, jerking it towards two double doors down the hall.

“It’s right through there,” and you head towards the doors, “I’ll see you in there.” he calls after you, and you shudder, right before you push through the double doors. A few eyes flicker to you as the door shuts softly behind you, but none of them Aaron’s.

You bit your lip, scanning the crowd for him. You hoped you didn’t miss it — not after you had persuaded him to come, not after how hard it was for him to be here. But you didn’t, you know you didn’t when you find him on the stairs to the stage, his presence and posture undeniably too Aaron to miss.

There’s a tapping on the microphone as the feedback reverberates through the room, “We wanted to honor a certain alumnus tonight,” a man’s voice booms over the microphone, “From here, he went onto George Washington University and then graduated law school summa cum laude. He eventually became one of the finest prosecutors in D.C. before joining the F.B.I.’s behavioral analysis unit, where he catches serial killers for a living. He is upstanding, true to his convictions, and represents the morals we wish our alumni to embody — Aaron Hotchner.”

He steps onto stage, and you catch his eye despite the flashing cameras and roar of the crowd — he had plenty of practice after all. His lips curl into a small smile when he sees you, a nod, as he steps beside the announcer.

“We would like to present to you with our distinguished alumni award,” he places the glass award in Aaron’s hand, shaking his hand with the other, as the room erupts into applause, “please, say a few words.”

He blinks, stepping in front of the podium, clearing his throat before he speaks, “The last time I was here was our graduation. Like many of you, I had been sent here — for one reason or another we all ended up here. And I have a lot of bad memories associated with this place, as do we all. But it was a jumping off point — it took us places, it helped us find the right people,” his eyes find yours again, “and it helped us become the people we are today. It’s a good reminder, a needed one,” he holds the award up again, “Thank you.”

The applause explodes around you, seats scraping against the floor as several rose to their feet, as he left the stage, walking over to shake his hand. You hang back, smiling as you watched him greet familiar faces. And you knew it was good for him to come here.

“Still here, huh?” an unwelcome presence finds you again, slicked back hair and all — he did promise that he would see you again. Persistent, like a rash. But now this rash has turned into a full blown infection, with drink in hand, the aroma of beer wafting with every word he spoke at you, “I still can’t place you.”

“That’s because you don’t,” you cross your arms, “I didn’t go here.”

“Oh I can place you,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, “how about in my bed tonight?”

You laugh, “I think you’re hallucinating,” still craning your neck to only find Aaron had disappeared into the throng of people by the stage.

Irritation begins to creep into his voice, “I think you’d ought to have a little more respect for the alumni here, if there’s one thing they teach you here is to have respect for everyone.”

“Well I didn’t go here, and the one thing I’ve learned is that people like you don’t deserve an ounce of respect,” you cross your arms, not bothering to look at him, “or acknowledgement. So why don’t you fuck off and leave me alone?”

A tension began to ebb at your nerves. Logically, you knew you were okay — a crowded room, full of other people, your husband included who was a federal agent and had his gun on him — but still. Still — he was still physically larger than you, and possibly stronger. And if you weren’t in this room full of people, it could be a much different story.

But I am in this room, you reminded yourself. You are.

“Come on, who could you have more fun going home with tonight?

“I have a few ideas,” Aaron slides beside you, his arm curling around your waist, FBI agent voice fully in action, his head ducking to press a kiss to your shoulder, “myself namely, but also every other person on the planet.

“Hotchner,” the man scoffs, “Hotchner, congrats on the award,” his lips are a thin line, “you gonna put that up on your mantle with all your report cards? I thought you were much too busy to grace me with your presence.”

“Never too busy for my spouse,” and you lean into Aaron’s touch, “something you should know well, Mason. Aren’t you still married?” as he tilts his head at the now dubbed Mason, who gapes at the two of you, as you grin brightly at him.

“Nice to meet you, Mason,” you hold out your hand, savoring the slack jawed expression on his face, “You’re married that’s nice. I see it isn’t going too well, and I wonder why that could be.”

“I didn’t know you got married again, Hotchner,” he crosses his arms, “try not to get this one killed—”

You surge forward, but Aaron holds you back, as you glare daggers at the fucking prick. You clench your jaw, your fingers fisting in the sleeves of his jacket. You needed to let him fight his own battles, and you knew he could — didn’t mean you wanted to punch him any less.

“You know I’ve dealt with worse bullies than you, Mason, before and after you started shoving my head in a locker, and I’m not scared of you anymore,” you squeezed his hand, and he intertwined his fingers with yours, as he slid beside you, Actually, it’s nice to see some things haven’t changed around here.”

The man surges forward, red in the face, but Aaron stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder. The room grows silent, and you feel the eyes of at least fifty alums dig into your sides, “Stop clinging to the past, and grow up,” Mason jerks his hand away, heading towards the exit, “I suggest you leave now. Unless you want to leave here in—”

“Fuck you, Hotchner,” he says as the door slams behind him, and the chatter creeps back into the room.

You scoff, swallowing the anger sitting on your throat, “Couldn’t even say it to your face,” you face him, his expression inscrutable as ever. Your fingers find his cheek, and he basks in your touch, a sigh on his lips, “you know you need a horse and a cape when you do that.”

He chuckles, and relief floods you at the small smile on his lips, “I’ll come more prepared next time,” he glances at the door that Mason had just left through, and your fingers find his, squeezing his hand.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes flicker back to you, “I should be asking you that.”

“He didn’t do anything besides make my ears bleed,” you huff, pulling him closer, his face in your hands, his eyes nearly glassy, “Now you didn’t answer my question — are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he shakes his head, rubbing his thumb across your cheek, “I finally have some good memories here, and I feel like I actually shut this chapter of my life closed after all this time. And this place doesn’t seem so scary now — it’s smaller than I remember. And so are the people.”

“Should we find Mason and see if we can prove that theory?” he snorts, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, lips lingering for a moment, before he presses his forehead to yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, “do you want to stay a little longer or go? If we’re staying, I’m going to need you to say I love you a little louder in front of the group of women currently ogling you.”

“Jealous?” he laughs, kissing your forehead, tilting your chin up, as your hands slide around his neck.

“Possessive,” you kiss him, his lips smiling against yours, his fingers twisted in your hair to pull you closer, and your hand drifted to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thud under your touch, “Mine.”

“I think we’ve made that clear enough now,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your pulse, “Now, I think we should leave because I believe I was promised some fun after this.”

“Really?” you scrunch your nose, “I don’t recall.”

And he pulls you through the double doors and out towards the deserted parking lot, pressing you against the car with a kiss, towering over you, as you tugged him closer by his lapels, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, “Let me remind you.”

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