#i’m in north carolina for 2 weeks and i was supposed to go to my friends yesterday :)) couldn’t be i was in too much pain now this :))))))) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

berry hill.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: i am so excited to share this one with you. the tropes are PACKED in here, and it was a blast to write. i also realized some time ago that i keep forgetting summaries on my works, so i’m gonna do my best to add those from now on. as always, let me know if there are any mistakes in here! thanks to @writefasttalkevenfaster for helping me today <3 intended for the ‘a joyful future universe,’ but does not require context. takes place in 2011, early season six, prior to the valhalla arc. words: 12k warnings: language, some vague mention of aaron’s anatomy, alcohol use, when i say slow burn i mean s l o w burn.

summary: "...and there was only one bed." - old fanfiction proverb

waldosia (part 2) | absence (part 3) | mean it (part 4)

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed! updated: january 5th, 2021

It’s way too late and you know it, but Jack is still on his annual winter vacation with Aunt Jess and the rest of the Brooks clan, so there’s simply no incentive to leave. You’re with Hotch at his desk, kicked back like you own the place, while he sits back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head.

The Montana case wrapped up neatly, and any remaining or incoming paperwork this week is light. Though it is admittedly weird without JJ, Seaver seems to be settling in alright. You’re glad that the team decided to take a chance on her like they did with you.

“What do you mean he drew on the wall?” You say through a laugh, popping a grape in your mouth. “Are we talking like a crayon mark here and there or a full-on mural.”

“Multi-media mural - glue, paper mache, markers, crayons, you name it and it was there.” He laughs and he takes a grape from your bowl, kicking his feet up on the desk - mirroring you. “I have no idea how he managed it. I was in the house the whole time.”

“Oh my God, he’s a terror!” Before Aaron can agree, your phone starts ringing. You pick it up, smiling as you see the caller ID.

“Hey Dean!” You stand and give Aaron a ‘sorry, just a second’ finger and step out of the office, leaving the door open behind you. You stay where Aaron can see you, leaning on the rail next to the stairs. You don’t really mean to stay within his eyeline, but it’s habit at this point.

“Hey babe, I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“Oh not at all. I’m still in the office with Hotch getting some work done.”

You catch Hotch’s eye and he mouths ‘Work?’ and you shrug as if to say ‘It’s a loose term.’ He rolls his eyes and steals another one of your grapes.

“Ah, I see. Late-night work with the hot boss-man.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. “So what’s up?”

He sighs, and you already know what’s coming before he says it. “Something came up at work and I won’t be able to make it to the wedding next week. We’re closing on this huge property in Georgetown and it’s really big for the firm and -“

“It’s okay. I get work stuff, trust me.” And you do. It just fucking sucks.

“I’m so so sorry to leave you hanging. I know it’s going to be super rough. Maybe one of your work friends can go with you? Maybe boss man? His name’s Aaron, right? Hopscotch or something?” His humor doesn’t make you feel any better, but you promise to keep ‘Hopscotch’ for later.

You tip your head up to stare at the ceiling and will the tears away from your eyes, blinking them back. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. None of them knew to ask off work, so if we have a case I’ll be on my own regardless.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Two tears fall out of the corner of your eyes, and you turn around, wiping them away. “It’s okay.”

“I’ll call you day-of to check in, okay?”

Hotch watches you carefully, doing your best to hide your tears from him. Bad news, certainly, but he wishes you wouldn’t hide from him like you do. Or rather, he wishes you wouldn’t try to hide from him like you do.

He can’t hear the entire conversation, obviously, but he resolves to do what he can to return at least a little of the care you always show him without hesitation,

“Okay.” You heave an uneven sigh. “I’ll talk to you then... Really - don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” You hang up before he can respond and rest your forearms on the railing. You let your head hang for a second, collecting yourself before you have to face Hotch again.

You take a deep breath and turn, sitting across from him again. Attempting to restore your good spirits, you kick your feet back up and have another grape.

Hotch’s voice is quiet. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” but your voice breaks. You clear your throat and blink a few more times.

You can feel him squint at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, you know.” You sniff, and gesture vaguely as you continue. “My best friend from college was supposed to be my date to a friend’s wedding next week, and the friend getting married also happens to be someone I dated in college so I was really hoping Dean could come with me, and now…” You trail off, realizing you’re rambling.

He’s quiet for a little while, and you shove some more grapes in your mouth to make up for the silence. You know each other so well, but it still feels a little weird to explicitly talk about your personal life in the office. Sure, you spend a fair few weekends together with Jack, but the whole thing is a little embarrassing - and you’re not sure if the worst part is admitting you have an ex-boyfriend from college or you now have to go stag to his wedding.

“Do you want someone to go with you?” He watches you chew on your lower lip. A long time ago, he decided there was nothing worse than seeing you upset.

This is the least you can do, Hotchner. First personal weekend in nearly four years, you can at least do what you can to make it suck less. He reasons with himself, but he can’t help the sly thought that sneaks in on the tail end. Being a backup is better than being nothing at all.

That’s enough.

You scoff. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

He smiles a little, knowing you completely missed his point. “If you wanted…” He clears his throat and looks out the window, and you reply before he can continue.

“Oh, God, Hotch.” You cover your face with your hands. “Please don’t feel like I’m trying to guilt you into anything. I’ll be fine.” You try to laugh it off, but can’t hide the anxiety in your voice.

His laugh warms you. “You’re not guilting me into anything. I’m offering.”

You remove your hands from your face and look at him. There’s an earnest sort of kindness in his eyes, and you find yourself a little short of breath. “Really?”

“Really. I can get the weekend off - things are pretty slow around here. Where is it?” You had trouble reading his tone. Really, he’s just treading carefully. He doesn’t want you to feel pressured, or give away his own selfish motivations.

“It’s, ah,” you stutter for a second, getting your metaphorical feet back under you. “It’s down at Berry Hill Resort, right by the North Carolina border.” Your lip disappears between your teeth again. “It’s about a three and a half hour drive.”

He opens his phone, and you know he’s checking the map. “It’d be easy enough if we left early and switched in Richmond. I’ll start, if you’d like.”

You smile at him, wide and genuine. “Hotch, you’re the best.”

+++

Hotch calls you up to his office, and you swing in, your hand gripping the doorframe. You bite back your greeting as you find him on the phone.

He beckons you in and you step inside, closing the door behind you.

“...Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to pass that along to the rest of the unit...You too, sir.” He hangs up and laces his fingers, addressing you. “Question.”

You sit, resting your elbows on his desk. “Answer.”

“Funny.”

You smirk, and he continues. “I’m not sure if it matters to you, but I have an absurd number of ties. Color preference?”

A huff of laughter leaves you in disbelief. “You called me in here to ask whether or not I want to have a color scheme?”

“Yes,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “A united front, or at least a coordinated one, seems like the best strategy, right?”

+++

Aaron walks down from his office, his phone to his ear. You’re helping Ashley with a consult, walking her through your process just like Emily used to do with you.

“Hotch usually likes to approach the profile starting with a demographic consideration, but I usually start from physical evidence and -”

A hand falls onto your shoulder, and you look up. “Yeah?”

He pulls the receiver away from his mouth. “Jack wants to talk to you.”

With a shake of your head and a fond smile for Hotch and an apologetic one for Ashley, you put the phone to your ear. “Hey, bud! How’s Grandpa’s house?”

“So fun,” Jack says, almost yelling into the phone. “Aunt Jess has let me play in the snow every day.”

You laugh. “I am so glad.”

“Dad says you’re busy at work, but I miss you.”

“Aw, bubba, I miss you, too. You’ll be home really soon, and when you get back we’ll go out to ice cream and you can tell me all about your visit.” You, for just a moment, forget where you are, and you lean back in your seat as if you’re leaning into Jack himself. “Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I love you.”

Your breath catches, and you keep our eyes firmly planted on your consult as you reply. “I love you too, bub. Here’s your dad.” Placing the phone in Hotch’s hand, you return your attention to Ashley and do your best not to acknowledge Aaron as he walks back up the stairs. “So, like I said, Hotch prefers to -”

“Hey.” Ashley stops you with a hand on your arm. “You’re really good at your job.”

A confused smile pulls at your lips. There’s a question in your eyes, and she answers it.

“Oh, I just...You’re a good teacher and a good friend, that’s all.”

“Thanks, Seaver.”

+++

On a rare weeknight off, Emily and you gather at Penelope’s apartment. You’re all sitting on the floor, bottles of wine making an occasional rotation, and a pile of snacks on the floor taking up the space in the loose circle you’ve created.

“You’re taking time off this weekend?” Penelope sounds almost insultingly surprised, as if the concept never occurred to her.

You nod. “Yep. First time in four years, so I think I’m about due.”

Emily laughs and asks. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve been inexplicably invited to an ex-boyfriends wedding - he’s a friend from college and we were friends before we dated etc. etc.” You wave your hand as you speak, outlining the tedium of it all. “His mom loves me, and I suspect she was the one who added me to the list.”

“Are you going with anyone? Penelope’s concern is touching.

“Yeah. One of my college friends was supposed to be my date, but he bailed for a work thing.” All the girls roll their eyes and nod. They get it. “So, Ho - someone else - is going with me.”

“Who?” Emily narrows her eyes and searches you.

“Oh come on, profiling is against the rules.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

“Spill it.” Penelope throws a goldfish cracker at you to emphasize her point.

You take a deep, long-suffering breath, suddenly missing JJ and her powers of redirection. “Fine. Hotch is coming with me -” you intercept their eager questions “- only as a favor.”

“That’s very...thoughtful of him.” Emily’s chin tips up suggestively, and you throw Penelope’s goldfish at her. “Who’s idea was that?”

There’s a moment here somewhere, where you realize you’ve just dug yourself a hole you’ll be hard-pressed to get out of. “He overheard Dean bail, and offered. I’m sure he’s just doing it because he feels bad and -”

“Oh, don’t be stupid!” Penelope nearly falls into Emily, giggling. “I can’t believe you two.”

You throw your hands in the air. “What?”

Both women share a look before looking back at you with identical disbelief. Emily speaks first. “You can’t be serious.”

Take a deep breath. You’re not that obvious.

Maybe you are. You’ve only been half-or-completely in love with him for five years.

Shut up.

“Serious about what?”

Emily rolls her eyes and finishes her second glass of wine, reaching to refill it immediately. “Nevermind. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

+++

You’re finishing your last bit of packing, leaving your toothbrush and toothpaste out for the morning, when your phone rings.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s Aaron.”

“Ah, my saving grace,” you say with a laugh. “Calling to cancel on me, after all?”

His laugh just isn’t as good over the phone, but it’ll do. “Not even close. Is 6am still good to come get you?”

“It’s so early.” There’s absolutely no shame in your whine, and you’re rewarded with another laugh. “But yes, that’s fine. That gives us enough time even if we hit some traffic out of the District and into Richmond.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

You look at your suitcase, resting open on your bed. “You’re still okay with this, right? I know I couldn’t grab that extra hotel room for you and I don’t want you to feel pressured or -”

He cuts you off, calling you out by name. “Enough. I offered, remember? I’ll see you at 6. Bring a pillow so you can sleep in the car.”

Your lips pinch, holding back a smile. “Thanks, Aaron.” And he knows you don’t just mean it for the pillow reminder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Of course. Sleep well.”

You don’t, but are nevertheless ready with bells on, pillow tucked under your arm, and coffee in-hand at 5:55am the following morning. He looks surprised when he pulls into the driveway and sees you standing on your porch, looking only a little worse for wear. At least your teeth are brushed.

“Thought you might want this.” You hold out the travel mug to him as he approaches, and he takes it (and your suitcase) from you.

“Thank you. Jump in.”

You follow instructions and immediately stuff your pillow between your head and the window as he throws your suitcase in the trunk. You’re forever grateful Aaron drives the same SUVs you all have at the bureau. He claims it’s easier to not think about different car specs, but at this moment you only care about the temperature control and familiar, soft leather seats. Your eyes shut on their own accord, still heavy even after your abbreviated morning routine.

He slips into the driver’s seat and, with your eyes closed, you miss the way he looks over at you with a barely-there, fond smile. Your sweatshirt is too big for you and your face is adorably smushed into the pillow.

With a sigh and shake of his head, he places his hand on the back of your seat, backs out of the driveway, and gets on the road.

The silence gives him plenty of time to think about things he’d rather not address. This favor, for one, is something he’s still trying to reconcile.

Would I have offered to Emily? JJ? Hell, Dave?

If any other member of the team had a friend bail out of their role as a wedding date, he’d like to think he’d drop everything and take the weekend to make them feel better, but he knows that probably wouldn’t be the case in reality. He knew you were different, and it frustrated and confused him.

As often as he acknowledges his love for you - he wishes it would just stop.

Only a year and change had passed since Haley’s death, and there were still some mornings where he woke up and couldn’t breathe. Jack still had some nightmares too. Those broke his heart more than anything in the world, but he knew you would always pick up if he called - no matter the hour.

It happened more often than he’d like to admit.

“Hotch? Aaron? What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

You’d always talk to him about something or nothing at all, sometimes turning on your bedside lamp and reading from whatever book you were perusing before bed.

He knows you understand. You were the only one there with him, when he found her body. You were there to take his son out of his bloodied hands. You were there when he was afraid of himself.

The nightmares still come for you, too, sometimes. There are nights where Haley’s dark blue eyes stare into you, whether your eyes are open or closed. You told him that, once, and he was grateful - grateful that he wasn’t the only one.

You murmur something in your sleep, about twenty minutes outside of the city. You’re still an hour or more away from Richmond, and Hotch figures he’ll let you sleep if you don’t wake up between now and then. It’s not a hard drive to Berry Hill, and you need the rest.

Might be good to pick up some food on the way...

He turns the music off, letting the sounds of your breathing and the road wash over him.

“Aaron.”

He turns, expecting your watchful eyes, but finds you burrowing further into the pillow, a little smile on your face as you remain blissfully unaware of your surroundings. Something warm starts to radiate in his chest as he looks back out at the road, the Virginia countryside stretching out in front of him, around him, and in every direction he can see. The warmth vibrates into his fingertips. He flexes his hands around the wheel, trying to shake it.

He fails.

You’re not sure how you manage to sleep so soundly in the car. You had tossed and turned all night, thinking only of facing a part of your life you hoped you’d never address head-on ever again. Why you accepted the invitation at all (or why you even received one) was beyond you.

It must be his mother’s doing. She always loved you, and she did her best to keep your friendship alive much longer than its natural death.

Exercising control over her child’s life due to an exceptional lack of control and consistency during her upbringing. Relating to her son’s partners to achieve some semblance of intimacy without facing the root of her insecurity that she’s failed as a parent.

The profiling never stopped, it seemed.

It wasn’t just the wedding keeping you up last night. The thought of spending the weekend with Aaron in an environment where you will inevitably feel (if not look and act) distraught close to the whole time still wears on you. Spending weekends at home, where you sit together with a glass of wine and leftover popcorn after Jack gets tucked in feels different.

That’s comfortable. That’s safe. This? This is scary. Vulnerable. Burdensome.

Even then, there’s nobody you’d rather have at your side while you face friends you haven’t seen in ages. He’s charismatic, almost entirely unapproachable (when he wants to be), and tall. All those factors should be enough to keep anyone from trifling with you for the duration of the weekend.

But now, in the car, all those thoughts are far from your mind. Your mind is blissfully dark and blank, your body soothed by the low hum of the car and the smell that follows Hotch wherever he goes - spicy, earthy, and something that reminds you of the air right before lightning strikes.

The car slows, and the subtle change in ambiance wakes you. You lift your head, finding Hotch turning on an offramp.

“Are we in Richmond already?” You ask, bleary.

He smiles. His sunglasses are resting on his nose to combat the rapidly-rising morning sun. “Not yet, but I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.”

You tip your head. He’s right. “I could eat.”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “You should eat.”

+++

After food and a top-off for the gas tank, you offer to drive.

Aaron refuses. “If you drive, I don’t get to pick the music.”

“I thought shotgun picks the music.” You frown at him, admittedly still a little tired. You’ve shoved your pillow behind your seat and start to sit like an actual human being for the first time that morning.

“Those are Morgan’s house rules, not mine.”

“Ah,” you say, sagely. “I see. What are your house rules?”

There’s a smile behind his sunglasses. “Driver picks the music and critically considers any suggestions made by shotgun.”

Thus, the Beatles’ White Album starts from the top. You can’t say you’re surprised - it is his favorite. You’ve grown rather fond of it yourself, if you’re honest, Though, you’re not sure if you fondness for the album has anything to do with the man beside you - the one who’s hair is soft and floppy in the morning light, the one wearing an uncharacteristically casual ensemble of jeans, sneakers, and a black t-shirt, the one singing along under his breath.

“Why is this one your favorite?” You hear yourself ask.

He’s quiet for a minute, as if you are the first to ask that question. Maybe you are. “I’m...not sure. I think it might have something to do with my mom. She bought the record a couple of weeks after I was born in late ‘68, and made sure I had a copy when I got my own record player in my first college apartment.” He shrugs. “It’s been around just as long as I have, and there’s something a little - I don’t know - comforting about that?”

You nod. “I get that.” You’re quiet for a moment, considering all the things that happened in 1982. “Grease 2 came out the year I was born, so I can’t say I share a similar affinity for the pop culture phenomena of my birth year.”

Hotch lets out a low whistle and a grimace. “That film really was awful.” He waits for your laugh and is rewarded before continuing. “I saw The Who on their final tour that year.”

You furrow your brow. “Weren’t you like, barely in high school?”

He nods. “We snuck out, a couple of friends and me. It was really stupid and we got in a lot of trouble, but it was fun.” There’s a nostalgic smile on his face. “I have no idea how we managed to get all the way into the District, let alone find tickets, but everything was a little less complicated back then. Buses ran on time, people read maps, and parents didn’t all have cell phones.” He shrugs and shoots you a smirk. “But of course, that’s before your time.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh c’mon. I’m not that young. I remember the world before the mainstream internet and 9/11 and all that pre-Patriot Act shit. I remember when the Berlin Wall came down, at least.”

That gets a laugh out of him. “Fair enough.”

You lapse into silence for a little while, handing him fries from the drive-thru bag when he puts his open palm over the center console. You notice his left hand shift slightly in time with the music, and you watch a little more carefully.

And I see it needs sweeping Still my guitar gently weeps

I don’t know why Nobody told you How to unfold your love I don’t know how Someone controlled you They bought and sold you…

“Hotch, do you play guitar?” There’s a touch of disbelief in your tone, but you try to hide it for the sake of his pride. It’s not that you think he doesn’t have a musical or creative bone in his body, but you’re rather surprised by the relaxed subtlety of his movement. It was your impression he never did anything without thinking about it, and to see the slight, almost unconscious action sparks a pleasant little flicker of warmth in your chest.

He shrugs. “I played a little when I was younger. I guess you could say I know how to play, but I don’t claim to be decent at it in the slightest.” His head tips, and you could swear you see an eye roll. “Sean’s always been better at those kinds of pursuits.”

As usual, he doesn’t seem thrown or surprised by your question and doesn’t hesitate to answer them. After almost five years, he’s used to your keen observations. He’d never admit it, but he expects them - maybe he’s not able to guess at the content of the questions themselves, but he always knows there will be one eventually.

“Have you and Sean always butted heads?”

Aaron snorts, and gives you a simple, “Yes.”

You’d never met the younger Hotchner, but you’d seen photos and heard tell. From what you understand, he’s a little wilder than his older brother, a little more idealistic and far less practical. Sean seems like someone you would like, but you doubt he would rise to the top of your Favorite Hotchners List - a list with only two names so far, tied for first.

It’s safe to say Jack and Aaron are hard acts to follow.

+++

You talk about everything and nothing, when finally, he asks. “So, who is this guy?”

“Ugh.” You tip your head against the seat. “You really want to know?”

“Of course. Isn’t it protocol to brief the team before arrival?”

You snort, immediately regretting your decision to make fun of Strauss over drinks last week. “Yes, sir.”

He laughs, and you tell him.

You tell him about Austin and how you met in a random general education class and became fast friends and started dating, talked about marriage and kids and the whole nine yards. You told him about your semester abroad, your traveling, and returning home to find he’d been dating someone else while you were away, without your knowledge.

“It’s kind of cliche, I know, but it broke my heart in half.” You laugh a little to cover the truth of it. Hotch keeps his eyes on the road, letting you go at your own pace the same way you let him the entire time he’s known you. “I was really close to his family, and we did our best to remain civil and friendly for everyone else’s sake, but we’ve only kept in touch through other people the last few years.

“I think his mom sent the invitation. I mostly accepted because I’d love to see her and Austin’s little sister - I miss them the most.”

“What are they like?”

There’s a smile on your face as you tell him about them - how Allison likes more cream than actual coffee in her mug, how their mom has the best taste in books and still sends you worn copies of her favorites every once and awhile.

“It’s good of you to keep in touch.”

You shrug. “I guess. I mean, I know it’s different, but you have Jess.”

The difference, he decides, is that you are kinder, more patient than he is. Jess would hardly be in his life at all if Haley was still here. He had a hard enough time keeping up with Haley’s family when they were married. Keeping up with them after the divorce?

There was no way to know, but he can’t remember much affection between them even before Haley’s father decided to hold him personally responsible for her death.

You notice his preoccupation, and reach out. Your thumb traces back and forth over the skin of his bare forearm. “It’s different now, and it would be different then. There’s no right way to do anything.”

He exhales in a huff, and you bring your hand back into your lap. “I spent almost twenty-five years knowing Haley. You know that?”

“I do. I also know you spent longer than twenty-five loving her, and probably won’t ever stop.”

There’s a sigh, and then an elbow on the center console. He leans heavily on it, and you do your best to keep your hands to yourself. “How do you know everything?” He asks.

You rest your head against the seat and adjust so your body is angled toward him. A small smile crosses your face as you take in his profile - relaxed, his wrist hanging loosely on the wheel, sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “I dunno. I guess I just pay attention.”

+++

You let out an exhausted exhale upon reaching the room you will share with Aaron for the weekend. One king size bed dominates the room, instead of the two doubles you halfway expected. He recovers faster than you do, shrugging and setting his things down on the left side of the bed, closest to the door.

Instinctively and completely without previous confirmation, you kind of figured he sleeps on the left side. The realization of that fact is a little unsettling, but you follow his lead and set your suitcase on the stand opposite his, unzipping it and unfolding your garment bag.

There’s a small part of you that’s pleased by this arrangement. Another part of you shames that part.

He’s going to think you’re taking advantage of him.

Are you kidding? He’s a SWAT-trained senior FBI agent. And a lawyer. It’s impossible to take advantage of him.

Yeah, of course that’s what he wants you to think.

Do you ever shut up?

Your outfits for the cocktail hour and the ceremony day are all set. So are Hotch’s, apparently. You look over to find him hanging a grey pinstripe suit in the closet you’d never seen before. It looks beautifully tailored, and expensive.

“Mind if I take up some real estate?” You ask, holding up your handful of hangers. He shakes his head and makes some space for you.

When you’re all settled, you sit on the bed, still tired. It doesn’t make any sense, seeing as Aaron insisted on driving the entire way.

“What time is our first obligation?”

You huff a laugh at his rhetoric. “5pm. Cocktails at the hotel bar. Rehearsal dinner after that is wedding-party-only, thank God.” Glancing at the clock, you confirm, “We basically have the day to ourselves until then.”

He nods thoughtfully before meeting your eyes over your shoulder. “How do you feel about a nap?”

I love you.

Shut up.

You can’t imagine how tired he is - working off minimal sleep and coming off a drive just shy of four hours long. “I feel great about a nap.”

Aaron’s lips quirk up in a smile, and he picks up a pair of flannel pajama pants from his bag and shuts himself into the bathroom.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

You quickly shuck your sweatshirt, suddenly too warm. Standing, you cross to the window and draw the blinds, covering the room in a kind of gentle shade that isn’t quite darkness. You toe off your shoes and slip under the covers, thankful you never really changed out of your pajamas. Curling up facing the bathroom door, you try to stay awake until Hotch returns, but your eyes close of their own accord.

Hotch leaves the bathroom to find the room darkened and you under the covers, dead to the world. He takes another moment to look at you, the way your brow sits smooth and relaxed above your closed eyes, your hands curled loosely in front of your face, the way your breath evenly comes and goes past the curve of your lips.

Taking the risk, he places his jeans back into his duffle bag and gingerly stretches out on top of the covers beside you. His eyes close eventually, but he can’t remember falling asleep - entirely preoccupied by the phenomenon before him.

+++

When you stir again, your hands are warm. You take a deep breath and your eyes crack open, finding a sight that steals your breath. Hotch is on his side in front of you, ramrod straight, with your hands clasped between his. Your heads are bowed together - not touching, but close.

There’s no memory of him joining you in the massive bed, nor any recollection of contact, so he either held your hands on his own, or you found each other in sleep.

You’re not sure which one makes your heart flutter faster.

Resolving to get a little more sleep, you close your eyes. Only moments later, you feel him stir beside you. You know he’s watching you, and you endeavor to keep your breath even and slow, hoping he can’t hear the racing of your heart.

He releases one of your hands, and you let it drop down to the cover, praying your fingers don’t twitch.

You’re proud of yourself when you don’t flinch as his fingers brush butterfly-soft against your cheek, tracing from your brow bone, down your nose and across your lips. Impossibly gentle touches find their way down your temple to your jaw before disappearing.

His hand closes around yours again and it takes everything you have to keep your breath steady as he presses his lips to your fingers before tucking them back to his chest. When his breath evens out again, you know he’s asleep.

You open your eyes, thinking it's more than high time to study him for a change.

He looks years younger in his sleep, closer to your age than his. Even awake, he hardly looks the picture of a father in his mid-forties. His graceful aging is more obvious when his face isn’t drawn up in stress or that aching kind of sadness that lingers around him.

Curious about what he saw and felt on your face, you follow his path, slipping your hand out from under his, tracing his jaw, his cheek and brow bones, his handsome, straight nose.

Your finger rests lightly on his cupid’s bow for a moment, his breath rushing slow and warm over your hand. The feeling of his breath stalls yours, and you swallow. The next breath you take is almost a sob, and you press your lips into a thin line. Light fingers brush through the hair at his temples, the sparse, soft silver strands seeming to glow in the low light.

What you don’t know, however, is that he has taken a page out of your book. Though his eyes are closed and his breath even, he is very much awake, heart pounding. He’s sure you can hear it, or even feel it, with your remaining hand still trapped between his.

The catch in your breath makes his chest ache. Even then, his eyes remain closed, and he’s mindful of his breath. With the route you take, tracing his features, he realizes with a shock of adrenaline and cold panic that you were probably awake, playing at sleep then as he was now.

If that was the case, you know how he feels about you. He knows how you feel about him.

But you can’t. You don’t want to take up space in his life he doesn’t have, space better used to heal, space reserved for his son.

He can’t. It's too soon. He can’t subject you to the ghosts, the baggage, the long journey to wholeness he’s endeavored to embark upon with only his son at his side.

The new normal, his therapist had told him, is the hardest thing to find.

He was sure, then, that it would be easier to find the new normal on his own, but he wasn’t so sure, now.

You slip your hands away from him entirely and roll over, making play at rising. You check the time on your phone, finding the early afternoon awaiting you.

There’s a deep breath and a stretching noise, and you turn to find Aaron rolled over on his back, his hands laced behind his head.

“Good afternoon,” you say, and you’re proud of yourself for sounding normal.

A smile plays at his lips. He looks like he knows something. “Good afternoon.”

“So, tonight.” You decide it’s best to move on before anyone admits anything they don’t mean to share. “Do you just want to be ‘work friends’ or do we want to lean into the whole ‘let’s ruin Austin’s life’ thing?”

He laughs a little. “I’m comfortable leaning in if you are.”

+++

The cocktail hour isn’t as horrible as you thought it would be. Aaron sticks to your side like glue, your right hand firmly placed in the crook of his arm while your left babysits a small glass of wine, more for show than for anything else.

You hear your name from across the room, and you see a huddle of some old friends and their respective dates. Aaron tips his head down to get the briefing, and you tell him names, relationships, and brief histories as you approach.

As you expected, he’s warm and charming, taking cues from you as you navigate eight years of catch-up with classmates you remember well and alleged classmates you don’t recognize at all.

“How did you two meet?” The woman asks (You’re certain she’s someone’s sister - Hotch caught her name while you missed it. Oops.).

You glance up at Aaron for a second before answering. “We’re in the same department at work.”

The man with her takes a sip of his drink. Him, you kind of recognize. Casey? Carson? Maybe. “Where is that, again? I can’t remember where you landed after your internship.”

“DoJ, in Quantico.”

Leslie, who you met in guided research your senior year, rolls her eyes. “They work for the FBI, Carson, keep up.”

Carson, that’s it.

“No shit!”

A small group has gathered around you, and you shuffle closer to Aaron. He wraps his arm around your waist and steps a little behind you, protective and secure.

“Shit,” you reply, jostling Aaron with your shoulder. “We don’t have our creds on us tonight, so if you get arrested you’ll have to bail yourselves out.”

“We also don’t have jurisdiction even if we did, so keep it high and tight and we’ll all do just fine.” Aaron’s voice rumbles through you with a laugh, and you take an overlarge sip of wine.

He really shouldn’t say things like high and tight with his hand where it is.

And his hand isn’t really in any kind of questionable location, just resting above your hip with his chest to your back, but it's still more contact than you’re used to. He wasn’t joking about leaning in.

“There he is!” Carson crows, and your head whips around. You almost lose your balance, but Hotch keeps his feet. A warm hand presses to your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whisper. You know he can hear you, and he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Always.”

It’s just an act. He doesn't mean it. He can’t mean it.

Austin approaches with his drop-dead gorgeous fiancee and a smile.

Aaron releases you as Austin gives you a warmer hug than you were expecting, and examines Hotch over your shoulder. He introduces you to his fiancee (Madeline), and you introduce them both to Aaron.

“Austin, this is my…” you pause, realizing you never actually established a cover story, letting the implication speak for itself. “Aaron.” You recover with a light laugh, and Aaron pulls you to him with one hand while he shakes Austin’s with the other.

You try not to smirk at the grimace that flashes across Austin’s face when Aaron’s hand closes around his in a very firm and assertive handshake. “Pleasure. Congratulations.”

Austin laughs, a little uncomfortable, and stretches his hand once it reaches his side again. “Thanks. We’re really glad you both could make it. Mom will be really happy to see you.”

+++

“That could have been so much worse.” You shuck Aaron’s blazer off your shoulders and hang it in the closet as he passes behind you. He’d passed it to you when you shivered slightly at the bar and it wasn’t even a point of conversation. It had been second nature to him, draping it over you and placing a hand on your back. The memory pulls a smile from your lips. “Thank you for enduring the mayhem down there.”

Aaron sits on the bed and slips off his boots. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a social event that didn’t directly affect my career trajectory.” He looks up at you, and his grin makes your heart skip around in your chest.

You shake your head, walking past him to retrieve your pajamas and toothbrush. “Do you ever want to move up the chain at all?”

“Not really. Something big would have to change to get me to leave the BAU.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “We tried that, remember?”

“I do, actually.” At his chuckle, you continue. “I can’t say that’s something I’d like to relive anytime soon.”

You move easily around each other, changing into pajamas and brushing your teeth and getting otherwise ready for bed. He’s cute at night, with his pajamas and floppy hair and big yawns. It’s not like you haven’t seen this side of him before, what with all the late nights watching movies with Jack, but it is significant that it’s just the two of you. He’s not Jack’s Dad right now, or Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner who won’t go to bed until The Case Is Solved, but Aaron.

Sleepy, charming, funny Aaron.

Eventually, you throw back the covers and crawl in without thinking about it too much, while Aaron lingers in the bathroom doorway.

“I really can take the couch.”

You look at him and pointedly turn off the lamp resting on your side table. “We’re adults. I don’t mind it if you don’t. And for that matter, if either one of us is sleeping on the couch it’s me.”

“Oh?” He asks. “Why’s that?”

“Because as you so astutely pointed out earlier, I am significantly younger than you, and I think my back will fare better than yours after a night of lumpy cushions.”

The bathroom light flips off, and you hear a scoff in the dark. “Never once did I say significantly younger.”

“Well, Aaron, ‘before your time’ is rife with implication.”

The mattress dips beside you, and his form takes shape in the darkness, facing you. Before he can speak again, you cut him off.

“You know what? Nevermind. I forgot who I was talking to, and I would hate for you to go full-tilt lawyer on me.” You curl up, bringing the covers to your chin. He laughs, and you can almost pretend that this is your life, that you get to fall asleep beside Aaron every night.

Don’t get comfortable.

Why not? He’s here, isn’t he?

He is, but not like that. This is a favor for a friend, nothing more.

You’re both quiet for a little while, listening to each other breathe in the dark. There’s a sigh, and you belatedly realize it came from you.

“Are you okay?” Aaron’s voice floats to you in the dark, and you nod. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

You think for a moment, trying to articulate your thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just - I really can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re here with me this weekend.” A hand reaches out, and you find it.

“Of course. I’m glad I can be here for you.” He means it. The trust you’ve placed in him does not go unnoticed or unappreciated. Your willingness to be vulnerable and funny and so yourself is a precious gift to him, and one he’ll never take for granted. “Thank you for letting me come.”

I’d like to let you come -

Ew, dude.

What?

Now is not the time.

“With that in mind,” he continues, his voice gentle in the dark, “I’m really proud of you. And not in a ‘I’m your boss and you’re making significant progress,’ way. As your friend, I’m really proud of you.”

Your friend.

He is your friend.

I know but that…sucks.

It doesn’t have to.

There’s something in his voice that almost makes you stupid, but you hold your tongue. “Goodnight, Hotch.”

He takes a deep breath, missing the way his first name fits in your mouth. It sounds safe there, like you’d never use it against him. “Goodnight.”

+++

You feel warm and feeling somewhat constricted, but not uncomfortable. There’s weight at your back and an arm around your waist, and you lean into it in your state of half-wakefulness. A little noise leaves the body behind you, almost like a sigh with tone.

Remembering where you are, you resist the instinct to jump. Hotch is wrapped around you like a koala, his knee between yours, one arm under your head and the other around your waist, face buried into the crook of your neck and shoulder.

His hair smells divine, and he’s so warm.

Your theory from yesterday morning seems confirmed - you definitely didn’t fall asleep touching each other, so you must have found each other in the night. The thought warms you, and you close your eyes again.

The ceremony isn’t until the early afternoon, so you have all the time in the world to doze and prepare for the hellscape of the day.

That’s not a fair assessment. You think, and correct yourself.

If the prior evening was any indication, things would go smoothly. Aaron was the world’s best wingman. He kept conversation flowing and took your cues without a second’s hesitation. Everyone loved him, and people asked you all night how you met, how long you’d known each other, how long you’d been together. The first questions were easy, but the last one was one you hadn’t prepared for. He, of course, had an answer for all three.

“We work together.”

“We met, what? Five years ago now? Maybe a little more?”

“We’ve been partners for almost four years.”

And...he wasn’t lying. You always paired off with him at work, whether naturally or by assignment. His lack of specifics in defining your relationship both settled and raised your blood pressure, depending on the way you decided to approach it. The words accompanied an affectionate squeeze around your waist or a kiss to the back of your hand.

You know he’s just playing the part for the weekend and everything will go back to normal when you get home.

But God, he’s good at it.

You almost believe him.

He’s still sleeping behind you, his breath fanning slow and even across your shoulder. You’re both fully clothed, but there’s something intimate about it. Sleep, you think, is inherently vulnerable, inherently a trusting state. You two not only managed to fall asleep in the same bed, but woke up tangled together.

You drop your hand to your waist and rest your hand on top of his, falling back into sleep without too much thought.

When Hotch wakes, it’s thankfully late. He’s far too comfortable to be in a hotel bed, but quickly realizes it’s not the mattress. You’re wrapped in his arms, and for a split second he almost panics, concerned that you’ll wake to find him glommed onto you like some kind of ridiculous backpack.

But then he remembers the way your fingers traced his face when you were sure he was asleep, the way you leaned into him the night before - taking shelter in his willing arms.

He feels your fingers pushed between his, your palm warm against the back of his hand, holding him to you.

He’s fucked. He’s totally and completely fucked. He’s even more fucked to even consider the possibility you’re fucked, too.

How could you possibly want him? A man nearly fifteen years older than you, with one failed marriage under his belt, an inability to tear himself away from his work, and more than enough trauma to drown in is hardly the ideal partner for someone as vibrant as you, with so much life yet to live.

And yet, it’s so hard to imagine a life without you. Whenever he looks into his future, he sees you there with him. It’s far too easy to let himself fall into the fantasy as you peacefully sleep in his arms with your fingers laced together.

You shift a little in your sleep, and he arches his back a little, definitely trying to keep you away from...certain parts of his anatomy that are a little more awake than the rest of him.

Quit while you’re ahead, Hotchner.

He very gingerly disentangles himself from you, and he’s pleased when he only gets a few sleepy protests in return. The shower is calling his name, for more than one reason including but not limited to the uncomfortable tightness of his flannel pajama pants.

With one last lingering glance at you, he picks up his toiletries and locks himself in the bathroom for a long (very) hot shower, followed by a much shorter (very) cold shower.

While he’s gone, you stir and stretch your arms over your head. A little disoriented, you find his side of the bed empty but not quite cold before you hear the running water of the shower.

What if you just -

Do not finish that thought.

You are not one iota of fun.

Reaching for your bag, you pull your laptop out and get started on some emails. You have a couple from Seaver and one from Emily.

You sigh and pull out your phone.

“Prentiss.”

“Hey, Em. You wanted me to call?”

“Oh, I just wanted to see how things are going down there.” her voice is the picture of forced nonchalance, and you can almost hear Penelope leaning over her shoulder.

You laugh into the phone and trace patterns on the bedspread. “Things are going well. Hotch was the perfect gentleman last night, and we have the ceremony and reception today. We head home tomorrow morning.”

“Has anything happened? Where is he right now?”

“He’s in the shower. And no, don’t be ridiculous.” You shove your phone under your chin and answer all of Ashley’s questions in confident keystrokes. “You and I both know he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”

Aaron pauses in the bathroom, in the middle of towel-drying his hair. With a smile, he overhears: “...he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”

He can’t hear the response, but he does hear you when you say. “My God, Em. Would you quit?”

Ah. So it is Emily.

“I’m not going to do anything about it because there’s nothing to do anything about...Don’t give me that...You have absolutely no proof...I don’t care if you’re a profiler or not, there is no way you can say with any definitive certainty -” You pause, and your voice drops to a low murmur he can’t hear over the hum of the bathroom fan.

With a frustrated huff, he ties the towel around his waist and ventures out, entirely aware of his state of undress.

You’re so glad you drop your voice to finish your thought (“- that he’s in love with me. Don’t be stupid.”) because the door opens and you are immediately confronted with Aaron Hotchner in a towel and every single coherent thought flies out of your head. He smiles a little at you, and something in you melts.

“Are you good?” Emily’s voice is full of laughter.

The heat rises in your cheeks and you whip your head back to your laptop, typing just for something to do with your hands. “Yeah, for sure.”

“He just walked out wearing a towel, didn’t he?”

“Emily, you know I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” You roll your eyes, and miss the smirk on Hotch’s face as he grabs his hanging clothes from the closet.

“So that’s a yes.”

+++

Austin’s family clearly spared no expense for either the ceremony or the reception. You and Aaron had walked in arm-in-arm to find a spot on the groom’s side near the back. It’s still weird - there was a time where you thought for sure Austin was the be-all-end all for you.

But here you are, sitting next to Aaron. He’s wearing that beautiful suit that looks even better on him than it did on the hanger (and that’s saying something). As promised, his tie matches your outfit, and you’d be lying if you didn’t say it made your heart all warm watching him put it on.

The ceremony itself is a blur. You stand and sit when you’re supposed to, and spend the vows with your head on Aaron’s shoulder - playing the role, of course. You take a few unsteady breaths, caught off guard by how affected you are by the ritual of it all.

You don’t love Austin anymore, not by a long shot. That said, the reminder that you’re not married to anybody but work and rapidly approaching thirty is unpleasant.

“Are you okay?” Hotch’s whisper doesn’t carry far.

You nod. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

You shake your head, the soft wool of his suit jacket pressing into your temple. “Later.”

His cheek presses to your hair for just a moment. He’s not worried about you, per se, but he’s never seen you in this existentially forlorn state before. It’s a feeling he recognizes in himself, but to see it on you makes him feel a new kind of helpless.

+++

You’re at the open bar, snagging a glass of wine for yourself and two fingers of whiskey for Aaron (the good stuff, of course), when Austin’s mother warmly accosts you.

“Darling!”

Against your will, a genuine smile breaks out across your face. “Hey, Laurie!” You set the drinks down and embrace her, the familiar smell of her perfume engulfing you. Suddenly, you feel nineteen years old again. “Congratulations.”

She pulls back and waves off your good wishes. “Oh, please. I haven’t done anything.”

You laugh and shake your head. “I beg to differ, but alright.”

She takes you under her arm and holds you close to her. “So.” Her tone is conspiratorial, as if a great plot is to unfold before you. “Who is that devastatingly handsome man you’ve brought with you to shame my son?”

“I did not bring him to shame your son, he offered to come when my original date bailed. You remember Dean?”

“Of course. Such a sweet boy. Still married to his work?”

You shake your head. “I would be...hypocritical of me to get upset with him for that. My work at the bureau keeps me plenty busy. If I’m honest, this is the first personal time I’ve used in four years.”

She squeezes you for a half-second. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.” Her lips purse. “But don’t think you can get out of telling me about that fine, fine man over there.”

“His name is Aaron,” you start, fighting a smile. “We work together at the bureau and he’s just a friend, Laurie, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I always have ideas. Now, introduce me so I can see for myself.”

With a long-suffering sigh, you grab the drinks off the bar and lead her to the table, where Aaron sits with his fingers pressed thoughtfully to his mouth, his elbow on the table and ankle crossed over his knee. Approaching from behind him, you set the whiskey down where he can’t knock it over and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Aaron.”

He turns, and a broad smile breaks out over his face. You’re sure he’s just being polite - you’ve never seen him smile so much. Offering a hand to Laurie, he stands. “SSA Aaron Hotchner. Thank you for having us. I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”

“Oh no, that can’t be good.” She laughs lightly and takes his hand in both of our own. “Laurie Miller. As I’m sure you know, I have a great amount of love for this one here.” She releases Aaron’s hand and tucks you into her arms again, kissing your cheek. You laugh, tickled by her demonstrative affection designed only to embarrass you.

“C’mon, Laur. You don’t have to lie for my benefit.”

You try to ignore the fondness in Aaron’s eyes as he watches the two of you, Laurie cooing over you and your successes. She returns her focus back to Aaron. “Sit, sit and tell me what you crazy kids get up to over there in Quantico.”

Aaron sits and relaxes back into his chair, resting his arm on the back of your seat. You lean forward with your elbows on the table, your hands propping up your head. Aaron’s a great storyteller, of course, and it’s so interesting to watch him talk about work outside of the context itself. He seems to bloom - effusive, charming, and warm - before you.

When you look at him, it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time.

“...Preventing loss of life is always rewarding, and our team is a family.”

Laurie is clearly enamored, completely drawn into his gentle description of your very-stressful and often-gritty line of work. “It’s so lovely you have so much fondness for each other. I imagine it makes everything much easier.”

He nods, and glances at you. “It does.”

Your phone buzzes on the table, and you excuse yourself with a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Dean, you bastard!” You answer. Hotch’s huff of laughter tells you he overheard it, but he picks up right where he left off with Laurie.

As you step out onto the banquet hall balcony, almost feel bad leaving him to his own devices, but then you remember all the times he’s been left alone with serial killers and you feel much better.

“Hey babe! Are you surviving? Are you alone? Tell me everything.”

You laugh into the phone. “I’m doing alright. Hotch actually offered to come with me. I just stepped out, but he’s in there holding his own well enough.”

“Oh my god. When I said that I didn’t actually think you’d do it!”

“What do you mean?” You look up and out over the property, and the views are simply breathtaking. The moonlight falling across the Virginia landscape almost makes the world look like it’s holding its breath.

What it’s waiting for... you’re not sure.

“When I said bring your hot boss to the wedding I was joking. You didn’t ask him, did you?”

You let out a snort and it almost disrupts the peace of the evening. “Of course not. He offered.”

“I have never met a pair of people so fucking stupid in all my life.”

“You’ve never met Hotch, idiot.”

“Don’t have to,” Dean says. “I know you are you’re dumb enough for the both of you.”

+++

When the dancing starts, you’re understandably resistant. The playlist is a playful mix of contemporary and classic music, and you can’t help but laugh when Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours) starts to play.

Aaron stands and offers you his hand. You take his hand without thinking, belatedly realizing his intentions.

“Hotch, you can’t be serious.” You stop dead in your tracks, but his grip on your fingers stays firm as he looks back at you with a look of humorous disbelief on his face.

“When have you ever known me to be otherwise?” He tugs you forward, and you fall into his arms with a huff. “Humor me. Just one and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.”

You glare at him, dubious. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because I’m lying.”

And at the end of the day, you can’t refuse him anything - especially when he smiles at you like that.

He’s an excellent dancer. Your grip on his shoulder slowly loosens as you grow more comfortable, trusting him to lead you around the dance floor. He holds you tight, his movement playful in a way that’s almost foreign to you.

You’ve seen him dance exactly once, at Haley’s 39th birthday party, the summer before she died.

You catch sight of Austin and Madeline on the other side of the dance floor and avert your gaze when you find Austin looking back at you.

“Hey.” Aaron’s voice is low, almost a laugh.

Your eyes snap to Aaron’s. “What?”

“Relax.”

“You’re one to talk,” you scoff.

He rolls his eyes and throws you out by one arm, spinning you so your back is to his chest. “I’m plenty relaxed. You are tense.”

The feeling of his heartbeat against your back ruins your resolve and you relent. “It just feels weird.”

“What does?” He spins you back out and pulls you close. You try not to be too distracted by the proximity of his face to yours when you land back against his chest, you hand resting over his heart.

“I just -” you push through your reluctance and admit, “I don’t love him in that way anymore, but it’s super weird to even think that I could have ever thought he was it for me. And now he’s with someone he loves and both of our lives just...kept going after we split, you know?” You shake your head, scattering your thoughts.

He nods. “I do.”

You believe him. The very concept of his heartbreak with Haley - the separation, the anger, the divorce, her death, the love - is overwhelming. You know he understands.

The silence that lapses between you is comfortable.

Yeah, I've done a lot of foolish things That I really didn't mean I could be a broken man Here I am, baby...

When he turns you under his arm, you laugh until you can’t breathe. There’s a smile on his face, too, and there’s something warm and inexplicable about it. You turn the tables on him, turning him under your arm and pulling him back to you.

The song changes to something slower and, true to his word, Aaron keeps you out on the dance floor. You’re exhausted all of a sudden, and your eyes close as you rest your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you for being here with me.”

You’re only sure you spoke aloud when Aaron replies, “Of course.”

+++

Your feet ache when you finally call it quits and head upstairs to your room for the night. Aaron’s suit jacket had long since left him, leaving him rolled sleeves and a loose tie with his top two buttons undone. It traveled from the back of his chair to where it now rests, slung over his arm.

You look over your shoulder as you slip your shoes off. “You look positively rumpled, Agent Hotchner.”

He lets out a laugh, and it makes your breath catch. His laugh always takes you by surprise; it’s much brighter and higher than his speaking register, and frankly, adorable. “It’s past my bedtime.”

“You don’t have a bedtime.” And it was true - you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d known him to actually sleep, especially on a case. You could neither confirm nor deny that he even needed it to function prior to this weekend.

The thought makes your cheeks a little warm, and you turn away from him, setting aside your pajamas and packing the rest of your items.

There’s a little chuckle behind you before the bathroom door closes and the shower starts up.

When Aaron leaves the bathroom, his hair wet and pajamas on, you’re asleep. Curled up on top of the covers, out like a light.

He flips all the switches, leaving the room in darkness. Creeping to your side of the bed, he reaches over and pulls the covers down, gingerly shuffling your legs underneath, followed by your torso. You stir a little, and catch his hand as he moves to tuck your hands under the covers.

His eyes close, just for a moment, before slipping his hand out of yours. He’s already dreading going back to his empty apartment tomorrow afternoon.

That feeling is only amplified when you curl up against his chest as soon as he’s settled under the covers, your leg hooked over his.

+++

You wake up warm again, and snuggle into the body beside you. Arms tighten around you, and you remember where you are and who you’re with. Unlike yesterday, you can’t pretend to be asleep - when you look up, Hotch is awake, brown eyes looking down at you.

“Good morning,” he says.

You tuck your face back into his chest. “I’m sorry - I’m clingy when I sleep.”

His laugh sings over the crown of your head. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

Don't read into that.

I’m going to.

Don’t.

Fuck.

“What time is it?” You crane your neck and look at the clock on his bedside table, but you can’t quite see with his arm in the way.

“Just before nine. We have an hour before checkout. Want to get packed, grab some breakfast, and head out? I’ll drive.”

“You drove here.” You shove at him and sit up.

He shrugs and you take a moment to admire the tousled, floppy state of his hair. “I like driving.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

You sigh, stretch, stand and start rolling. You brush your teeth (twice) and put your clothes back into your suitcase, zipping it up without much trouble. He, of course, takes it off your hands right away and brings the bags to the car while you take care of checkout.

He meets you outside, sunglasses on, and the sun hits his hair. You can see all the nuances in the black - the touch of silver, the dark browns and reds. They all seem to make a halo around him in the sunshine. “Ready?”

You snap back to attention and give him a wide smile. “Yes, sir!”

Breakfast is an eventful affair. As soon as you sit down, you get a call from Penelope.

“Hey, Pen, what’s up?” You look across the table at Hotch with amusement in your eyes, and he smiles, still digging into his eggs benedict like a starving man.

“Tell me everything.”

“Oh, well we’re just at breakfast, almost on our way back. My laptop is in the car, can I take a look at that for you when I get home?”

Not now, Penelope, I’ll call you when I’m home.

She hums, following right away. “You better give me every single detail as soon as you step through the door or I swear I’ll riot.”

With a laugh, you reply, “Of course. You know, it might be easier if you just stop by - I’ll text you when I get home and we can do dinner or something.” You push your food around your plate, trying to ignore the fact that the only person you actually want to have dinner with is right across from you.

“Perfect. Yeah, just text me when you get home babycakes. Can’t wait!” She hangs up promptly, and your eyebrows raise for a half second.

You put your phone away and shake your head. “She’s very predictable.”

He nods, looking at you from under his brows. “Indeed.”

You both continue to dig into your food, not realizing how hungry you are from all your antics the night before. His phone rings next, and it’s Jack.

“Hey bud!”

There’s nothing better than the way his voice transforms when he speaks to his son. You hear your name and return your attention to his conversation.

“...we’re at a wedding this weekend, remember? We got to go to a big party last night, and we’re driving home today… Yeah,” he looks at you, “we did have a lot of fun… I’m so glad you had a good time with Aunt Jess and the Brooks cousins this weekend… You got to go ice fishing? That’s so exciting! Did Grandpa take you?... Awesome, bud… Sounds good, I’ll call you when I get home, okay?... I love you too.”

When he puts his phone away, you ask, “How’s he doing?”

“It’ll be a fight to get him home, that’s for sure.”

You take another bite of your food. “How are things with Haley’s family? Any better?”

“Not at all. I’m not sure there’s much I can do, at this point. Jess does what she can, but her dad is… not a fan of mine.” There’s a kind of sadness in his eyes, and you almost regret asking.

“I know you know this, but none of this is your fault.” You look into him and hope he can see the sincerity in your eyes, hear it in your voice.

He thinks for a moment, and you’re almost nervous he’s going to disagree (it’s happened before), but he just meets your eyes and says, “Thank you.”

+++

Hotch lets you pick the music on the way home, and doesn’t say a word when you sing along (sometimes good, sometimes bad). He does occasionally smile a little secret smile to himself, which makes your heart skip around in your chest.

At a certain point, you turn the music off and sit back in your seat.

As usual, Aaron knows you’re going to say something long before you say it. “Yes?”

“I know I keep saying this, but thank you for coming with me this weekend.” Your body shifts toward him, and you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his profile.

“You’re welcome.” He glances at you before looking back at the road. “Thank you for trusting me not to embarrass you in front of people you haven’t seen in almost ten years.”

You smile a kind of lopsided sort of smile. “You could never embarrass me.”

He frowns playfully. “That’s not true.”

“You are exceedingly upstanding, and you just got your hair cut, so the odds are in my favor.”

“Hey!” He self-consciously runs a hand over the back of his hair. You reach over to shove at his shoulder and you’re rewarded with a laugh.

“I’m kidding! I like it long.” You look over fondly at him. “It was longer when I first met you, remember?” You’re not sure why you continue, but you do nevertheless. “You started keeping it shorter after the div - well, after.”

He quirks his brow, the corners of his lips upturned just the smallest amount. “Nobody ever accused you of being unobservant.”

You grin widely at him and turn the radio back on.

+++

You’ve never been more disappointed to see your own driveway in your whole life. Hotch pulls in and turns the ignition off, and you sit in silence for a minute.

There’s so much to think about, and most of it is at least a little uncomfortable. Of course you’re in love with him and he’s your favorite person (and that’s bad enough), but that is even harder to stomach now that you have to go back into the real world.

It’s easy to pretend that it was real, that it wasn’t just for show to make you feel less awful about the direction of your love life. If anything, now that you’re home, you feel even worse.

The only person you want is seemingly the only person you can’t have. There’s something so unattainable about Hotch. You’re not sure if it’s his stern exterior or his age or his role, or if it has more to do with how devastatingly handsome he is, but it’s something.

Aaron wishes he could do anything else, than leave you here at home. Nevertheless, he sighs and gets out of the car. You follow him around back, though you’re not really sure why - he takes your suitcase and insists on carrying it all the way to the door.

You stand there, fumbling with your keys, feeling more and more like a character in a romantic comedy with every passing second. Aaron sets your suitcase on the ground and covers your hands with his. You look up at him, and he leans toward you, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

All you can do is nod, with a tight, closed-mouth smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says

“Bye, Hotch,” you call to him as he trots back to the car. “Thanks again.”

He turns toward you, puts his sunglasses on, opens the door, and says, “Anytime.”

You wave with the tips of your fingers and slide into your house. Your back to do the door, you slide down to the floor and cover your face with your hands.

Fuck.

tagged: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

984 notes · View notes

desiraypark · 4 years ago

Text

Ominous (2/2)

CHARACTERS: Adam Sackler x Brenda “Bree” Sackler x Jessa Johannson CONTENT: I’m sorry. PART ONE

“Adam!”

Adam didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but fuck, he just wanted to get home. He wanted to catch a fucking cab, get home and shower, call Bree--maybe jack off--and go to bed. Having fans was great but having a nice apartment that he could walk around in with his balls out was even better. Adam heard his name and his 180 was almost complete when the voice registered. Among the ever-moving scatter of pedestrians--there she was.

“Jessa?”

She’d let her hair grow out again. The emerald green dress looked perfect on her, as did her signature red lipstick. She smiled and waved awkwardly, then walked toward him. He finally unplanted his feet, met her halfway, and gave her a hug.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I’m great. Not as great as you, though--superstar!”

Adam blushed, tilted his head, and looked away from Jessa. Of course, in turning away, he was only greeted by a poster near the entrance of the Hudson Theatre--"Adam Sackler” in a large font on the glossy sheet. If he took a few steps back, he’d see his name on the theater’s marquee. Jessa began to dig in her purse.

“I actually wanted to come last night, but I figured things would be too hectic for you to stop and chat with an old friend.”

She found her pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

Adam looked past the top of Jessa’s head, not wanting to be tempted by the smell of tobacco and nicotine. “Yeah, it was pretty busy last night. Nothing abnormal.” His eyes returned to hers. “But I still would have spoken to you.”

Jessa blew a puff of smoke and chuckled. “Would your wife have been okay with that?”

Air left Adam’s nostrils in a scoff. He looked Jessa square in the eyes and shook his head. “You don’t even know her.”

Jessa placed her free hand on her hip and rolled her eyes. “It was a joke, Adam. Don’t be such a curmudgeon.”

"Well, she would have been happy to meet you. So...”

“That’s good to know,” Jessa said, slightly bowing her head. “I suppose you’re ready to get home to her.”

Adam chewed on the interior of his lip. His eyes scanned the street--looking beyond the heads moving along the sidewalks. “Yeah...”

Jessa nodded and leaned forward in a slight lunge. She looked Adam in the eyes. “I’m very proud of you. Happy for you. And, I’m sorry for how things ended between us.”

Adam shrugged. “Well, I haven’t been holding any grudges. Have you?”

Jessa’s eyes narrowed and she blew more smoke into the air. “No. No, I haven’t.”

The diverse sounds of footsteps filled the air. The wheels of vehicles squeaked to slow stops. Adam and Jessa became reluctant to look at each other.

“Do you want to grab a cup of coffee?” Jessa asked.

He looked into Jessa’s eyes, and for the first time in past couple of minutes, he noticed loneliness in them. Melancholy. A sad story she’d been writing for about five years. Again, he looked away. But he nodded.

“Sure.”

~~~~~~

Adam had made numerous bad decisions the entire night--saying ‘yes’ to a cup of coffee. Then, ‘yes’ to another cup with a pastry. Jessa was lonely these days--and he wasn’t. Guilt nipped at his heart.

Maybe they could be friends again, however. She looked like she needed one.

He’d said ‘yes’ to a short walk--and ‘yes’ to continuing the walk to his fancy apartment--a far cry from the apartment they once shared. He’d made the mistake of ignoring Bree’s call. It was just one call.

And he’d made the mistake of holding Jessa’s hand to assure her that she would be okay. That she would find love and drive again. He made the mistake of gazing into her eyes once more.

~~~~~~

Adam washed the bedding twice the next morning--a Thursday--making sure to add a few drops of Bree’s lemon oil inside. He called Bree to apologize for missing her call. He spent Saturday cleaning the apartment more than it needed to be clean--sweeping a dustless floor, vacuuming the pristine carpeting. The fridge was full, but still, he bought some of Bree’s favorite things: ice cream, Bruce Cost Ginger Ale, and three packs of Ghirardelli chocolate squares. It was Sunday afternoon when she touched down in New York.

The North Carolina sun had been good to her--adding a glow to her skin. He caught her big smile and he saw it quickly disappear. His brain told him to rush to her and take her in his arms, but his feet wouldn’t move. She noticed. And he knew that she noticed. Suddenly, Adam felt like he didn’t deserve her.

But he had to prove to himself that he did. She could never know what he’d done...

Even when he’d managed to do it two more times.

~~~~~~

THE SUNDAY AFTERNOON IN AUGUST

For a brief second, his dick hardened at the sound of Jessa’s name rolling off his own lips--still fresh from three nights before, the second and last time. But immediately, he fell limp inside of his wife. His eyes met her face, frozen and horrified. Her breasts rested near the sides of her chest--nipples rising up and down with her deep breaths.

“I knew it...” she mumbled. “I fucking knew it!”

Bree climbed from Adam’s lap and rushed away from bed. He remained in his spot, frozen and guilty. Bree shook her head and fought back tears.

“Who the fuck is Jessa?”

Unable to look at Bree, Adam stared at his feet and listened to his own breath. “My ex.”

The sounds of New York City spilled into the Sacklers’ bedroom, overpowering the couple’s audible breaths.

“I’m sorry,” Adam mumbled. Finally, he looked up Bree’s face. She shook her head, and snatched her robe from the back of the door and rushed out of the bedroom.

Adam couldn’t afford to keep his feet planted this time. He jumped out of the bed with a sheet tied around his waist and followed Bree into the kitchen. Right away, she went for the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of bourbon that she kept tucked away. Cheap bourbon for her culinary experiments. Bourbon that she hid from Adam. Bourbon whose hiding spots she frequently changed because she loved him so much.

Before she got the cap off, Adam wrapped his arms around her and crushed her with his body. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m sorry...”

“Get off of me!” she demanded--her voice soft, but low with a slight rumble. Adam obliged and was thanked with a slap to the face. Tears welled in his eyes--not because of the sting on his cheek, but the sting in his heart.

He didn’t raise his voice at Bree, and she didn’t raise hers at him. Adam and Bree didn’t throw things at each other or scream “fuck you’s” across the room. He found peace in Bree--Brenda, his wife, his partner. Now, they would no longer know peace. And it was all his doing.

Bree had shocked herself. But Adam’s tears enraged her. How dare he let a tear fall? She drew back her hand with the plastic bottle still tucked in her palm, but Adam grabbed her wrists and held her against the counter--the counter that had been marked three times with their cum and sweat: when they first moved in, when Adam was nominated for a Tony, and when Bree returned from a week in North Carolina.

“Stop...” Adam whispered--the veins pulsing in his fingers as he held Bree’s wrists tight.

Bree looked up at him again. Guilt painted his silent face--and it had since May. It had coated his voice the morning after he ignored her phone call that night. He didn’t put a mask on--that guilt had been there for months. And suddenly, Bree hated herself. She hated herself for not identifying the guilt right away.

She sank to her knees and sobbed. Adam fell with her and pulled her into his arms--the sheet had long abandoned his hips, leaving Adam bare and flaccid to Bree.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any excuse, babe. It’ll never happen again. I’m so sorry...”

Bree’s shoulders bounced as Adam’s chest absorbed her tears. She stared into the dining room--the table, chairs, and painting looked wavy behind the coating of the salty water in her eyes.

She didn’t know this Jessa. She didn’t know what she looked like. But now, despite her clouded vision, she saw her sitting at her dining table--certain to stare back at her until divorce and/or death did her and Adam part.

53 notes · View notes

airis-paris14 · 4 years ago

Text

Starlight Chapter 13

Summary: Amani is an orphaned heiress who's spent most of her life raising her younger sister. T'Challa is a widowed King and Father. Neither of them is expecting much from their night at the Lotus. But the coming months have many milestones in store for these young adults. Will becoming a family be one of them?

Warnings: N/A

Masterlist

2 months later

“Amani, I’m about to head out,” Amare called, grabbing her house keys off of the hook. “Okay, hold on, I'll be right back Baby.” T’Challa nodded into the phone and muted himself to speak to someone off screen. Amani hurried down the stairs and smiled at her little sister. “Okay, passport, keys, tickets, wallet, and medicine in carryon?”

“Yes mother,” Amare smirked.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe kid,” the older Okeke smiled and pulled her in for a hug. “You’re 18, not 21, so please, no sneaking off without telling Shuri’s guards where you all are going. Limit your alcohol intake, I know it’s legal over there but the last thing I need is a call from a German hospital saying you have alcohol poisoning.”

“I promise I will limit the drinking, and the sneaking out.”

“Good. Have fun, be safe. I love you.” Amani smiled and pulled her sister in for another hug. “Love you too sis. I’ll only be gone for a week.”

“I know, but you know I hate saying goodbye. You’re all I have left kid. But I want to let you live, so go before you miss your flight. Hug Shuri for me.

“I’ll call you when I land.” Amare bounded down the front steps and into her already packed car. Amani sighed watching her wave one last time before pulling off down the street. She waved at the patrol car as it drove by on its hourly surveillance drive by, before locking her door and heading up the stairs into her office. “And I’m back,” she plopped into her seat, reopening her MacBook.

“Personally I don’t think it’s fair that our sisters see each other more than we do,” the king teased. Amani rolled her eyes, “This is their first time seeing each other since we came home, it’s only been two months,” Amani laughed. “Yes, and after having you here for three months, I’ve decided that 61 days is too long to be out of your presence.”

“Well you know I’m working to get the venue started up, I just can’t travel as much as usual. You know I would be there if I could,” Her voice began to tremble.

“I know my love,” T’Challa reassured, “I am just teasing,” he frowned, noticing her eyes tearing up. “I know but lately I’ve just been feeling like such a bad girlfriend,” she began to sob and the king panicked. “Hey no, you’re perfect. Nothing's wrong. It’s on both of us and I was gonna tell you that I was planning to surprise you with a visit.”

“Really?” Amani sniffled.

“Yes so please stop crying entle.” The heiress grabbed a tissue from the box she had begun to keep on her desk after noticing that even the little things made her tear up. “I’m sorry. I ruined the surprise again,” she chuckled, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “It is fine, now you have something to look forward to. You hate them anyway,” the king teased.

“Are you sure you’re alright though my love? You have been extra-sensitive lately.”

“In more ways than one,” the heiress murmured. “Have you been to the new doctor, did she run the tests the doctor here ordered?” The king grabbed a stack of papers and began signing them. “Yep,” Amani read over and responded to an email her contractor sent before turning her attention back to T’Challa. “I have an appointment with her tomorrow. She and Dr. Zabulie both sounded very excited so I’m hoping it's a positive result.”

The king smiled at the news, “Well then I’ll be expecting a full report as soon as you know.”

“Of course. I’ll call your mother as well, I wouldn’t even be in this position if you all hadn’t encouraged me to go see another doctor.”

“We both just want what is best for you,” the king smiled, “but unfortunately I have a meeting to attend to my love. I will call you later tonight, okay?”

“Of course, I’ll see you later.” She blew a kiss through the phone before the king had to hang up. After responding to more emails, she scheduled some property manager interviews for later in the week and a building walk through. Her phone caught her attention as it began to ring, “Hello?” She answered. “Hey, Kura and I finished those designs for different set ups and interiors, are you free to go over them?”

“Yeah,” Amani smiled. While in Wakanda she and her friends decided to go into the event business together. They’d bought an old hotel downtown in Atlanta and decided to turn it into a sleepover venue. With suites and rooms designed for different party sizes and moveable features to make the room age appropriate. A spa, boutique, and restaurant, would be located on the grounds as well. There was also a separate grand ballroom and garden that allowed them to market the place as an all in one wedding venue. They’d started work while in Wakanda and now two months later they were weeks away from opening the ballroom, gardens, and other non overnight amenities for event bookings. They would use the money from the rentals to help recover the costs of renovating the hotel rooms.

“Bet. We’ll be over in 30. Sakura has to pick up the pizza first.”

“Cool, don’t forget extra garlic butter sauce. Imma hop in the shower. Y’all can just use your keys to let yourselves in.”

After hanging up the phone Amani hopped in the shower and let the water soothe her muscles. She’d been working so hard to make sure everything came together and it finally was. She was more in love with T’Challa each day, she was starting a business with her friends, and Darius had been spotted in New York living with some family he had there. She still had nightly surveillance, but knowing that he’d move out of the state definitely calmed her nerves.

“Madiyson?” The heiress called as the sound of the front door caught her attention. When she didn’t receive a response she shrugged and figured she had her beats on. She quickly motioned with her coconut oil,slipped into some sweatpants, and pulled a sports bra over her head before a voice sent a chill down her spine. “You’ve been holding out on me Amani.”

Darius got up from his seat behind her on the bed and revealed the kitchen knife he was holding. “If I had known you could look like that, I would’ve made you work out more.”

“How the hell did you get in my house?”

“No Thank you? Darius frowned.

“What do I have to thank you for?”

“Giving you a second chance,” Darius smirked before lunging at the Okeke heiress. Amani, dodged his lunge as he ran into the dresser she was standing in front of. “ A second chance for what you bastard!” The heiress resisted the urge to search for her phone, she knew Darius, he watched her eyes always to anticipate her next move. “You ruined my life. You were supposed to be my wife, look pretty, give me kids. Instead your ass got me locked up for damn near life. Now my dad is all on my ass because he had to call in a favor with the DA and the governor in one sitting-”

“Well maybe your ass should’ve just stayed in jail then!” Amani ducked, expecting the lamp on the nightstand to fly towards her head. She took the moment she dodged the light fixture to locate her phone. It was too far and she knew that she’d never be able to reach it before Darius finished his spiel. She’d have to leave her friends a clue that something had gone wrong.

“Now,” Darius eyed Amani as she backed up against the wall, “as I was saying. Everyone is counting on me to not fuck up! Which means I need to get my old life back, starting with you Ms. Okeke, now heiress of the Okeke Industries Tech Conglomerate.”

“No one will ever believe that we are a happy couple once again Darius, they found me, clinging to life, hypothermic, and bleeding because you literally beat our child out of me. It was on the five o'clock news for weeks straight.” Amani risked eyeing her keys once more, hoping that the plan she was hatching would work.

“What better way to show them that I am a changed man, than by having you forgive me. A redeemed love, a true love,” Darius stepped up to Amani and caressed her cheeks and lips. The woman felt like crawling out of her skin but she held it together. “Why don’t you just find another woman?” Not that Amani wished Darius on any other woman, she’d prefer he’d be locked up in a cell, but she needed to get him to back up. “Does it really matter? I want you, and I’ve already invested a lot in you Amani. You got a little break to have fun and spend time with other men, but you are mine. You always were and you always will be, it’s time I got a return on my investment. “ Darius took a seat on Amani’s bed and she silently rejoiced.

“Okay, then what’s your plan?”

“You don’t need to know all of that. Just know that I’m not leaving you behind Amani.” Darius pointed the knife and Amani nodded, “I’m just gonna grab my keys,” she gestured. “If I go missing, the police will look at all of your father’s and friend’s properties, no one will think I was stupid enought to take you to one of our vacation homes.” At least the waitress hoped this wasn’t the stupidest idea she’d ever had.

“Nah, cause I’m sure your friends and man know all about those places. Not to mention your little sister.”

“Amare is out of the country at a science conference, won’t be home for two weeks, you’ll have time to move me before she can get back. As for the others, they don’t even know we own vacation properties.” Amani scoured through her keys and grabbed the one she knew her sister would recognize as missing first. “Here, we can go to the chateau in the mountains in North Carolina. It’s secluded. No one for miles around.”

Darius stood up, “Nah, there’s a reason you’re helping me. What is it?”

“You’re never gonna leave me alone otherwise. I don’t wanna die, and this is most likely the last time I’ll ever get a decision about something that happens to me. Think of it as my final words.” As soon as the excuse left her mouth Amani felt her mouth go dry and heavy, for some reason, it did feel like she’d sealed her own fate.

“Amani!” Madiyson called as she entered the apartment. Sakura followed in hot on her heels to place the heavy pizzas in the kitchen. “I still don’t know why you ordered four pizzas for 3 people,” Madiyson laughed, dropping all of her interior design sketches and renderings on the table. “As much of a perfectionist each of us is… We're gonna be here all night and y’all are gonna be glad I bought enough pizza.”

“Well if AMANI would BRING. HER. ASS. DOWN. THE. STAIRS we could get started and be done at a godly hour.” Madison yelled up the stairs into the continued silence. “You told her we were coming, right?”Sakura joined her friend at the base of Amani’s stairs and frowned. “Yeah, she said just let ourselves in.”

“Maybe she’s taking a nap, she’s been doing that more often than usual.”

“Oh god, if she’s taking a nap then she’ll be dead to the world right now. You wanna wake her up while I set up?” Madiyson shook her head and walked back over to the couch in the living room. “Sure, just throw me into the lion’s den. You know she hates being woken up by anyone but Amare and Ada.” Sakura whined. “You’ll be fine, she would never hate you. Just make it seem like she woke herself up. Throw a pillow or something.” Madiyson shrugged and opened her laptop.

“Always the sacrifice, never the beneficiary,” Sakura mumbled as she jogged up the stairs into Amani’s room. “Mani,” the afro-asian woman sang as she burst into the room, only to be greeted by a perfectly made bed. “Amani?'' She tried to calm her heartbeat as she checked her friend’s closet and bathroom. “Okay focus, details details,” Sakura chanted to herself. “7:47, no phone in the room, nothing messed up, somebody sat on the bed,” the waitress took note of the room as she backed her way out, down the stairs, and towards the garage. “Hey, did you- what’s wrong,” Madiyson frowned as her best friend opened the garage door and looked out. “Did she say she was gonna leave?” Sakura ignored Madiyson’s original question, feeling her stomach drop at the presence of Amani’s car, and the empty house. “No, she said she was gonna take a shower-”

“Madiyson, She’s not here.”

“Look, I already told you what happened. Madiyson called Amani at 6:30, she picked me up, we picked up the pizzas, let ourselves in, but she wasn’t here when i went to check on her. I went into the room at 7:47. The shower had been turned on and the room was steamy, and someone had sat on her bed but Amani hates that unless she’s about to go to sleep. Except she isn’t in her room sleeping!”

“Why are you all not taking this seriously! Her abusive ex is a known kidnapping threat. For God’s sake she’s had a 24/7 patrol for months because there was fear he would try to retaliate! Now that she’s missing, y’all aren’t doing a damn thing.” Madiyson butted in frustrated at the officers staring at them like they were aliens from outer space.

“Ma’am, we are just trying to get all the facts first-”

I’ve given them to you three times, if you can’t comprehend then we’ve got a bigger problem!” Sakura fumed and the officers stood. “We’ll call headquarters and see what we can do. Technically it has to be 48 hours before we can report and adult as missing-”

“Just get out please,” Madiyson sighed. She held open the door for the officers who hesitated, their feathers obviously ruffled.

“I’ll try calling Amare again.” Sakura stood and walked out after the officers left. Madiyson locked the door and stared up at the clock, realizing she should probably call T’Challa.

“Hello?” Madiyson breathed deeply as the call finally connected to the king, “T, she’s gone,” the woman’s voice warbled but her words shook the king all the same. “What do you mean she is gone?” He stood, immediately stumbling to slip on some shoes and race through the halls to his mother’s room. “Sakura and I came for a meeting, and she wasn’t here. Her car is here but she isn't and she assured us she’d be here taking a shower. Someone else was here because someone was sitting on her bed, at the bottom. You know she hates people ruffling her sheets.”

“Have you talked to Amare? Are you sure she didn’t take her to the airport?”

“We’ve been trying to reach her but she's still on the plane. She would have been back by now if she just went to the airport. She knew we were coming.” Madiyson broke, sobbing into the phone.

T’Challa’s heart dropped, his mind racing back to how he’d begged his lover not to go back until the rumors that her abuser had officially moved were confirmed. Now she was gone and the king felt he had failed to protect her. “Madiyson, Madiyson, I need you to breathe and keep breathing. Did you call the police?”

“Yes, but-“ Madiyson stumbled trying to regain her composure, “they said since it hasn’t been 48 hours it’s not technically a missing persons case.”

The king felt anger rush through his veins, “So they aren’t doing anything?”

“Not really,” Madiyson moved to grab tissue from Amani’s bathroom. “Have her call the detectives over these two imbeciles. She was on 24 hour surveillance due to risk of revenge from her abuser. Them sitting around doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know, I know, I’m heading downstairs right now-” Madison paused as she noticed Amani’s keys on her vanity. “Wait, one of her keys-” Madison trailed off flipping through the keys. “One of her keys is what?” T’Challa knocked on his mother’s door. “It’s missing. When her parents died, she kept keys to all of their properties. With them all labeled with numbers but I don’t know which one is which. Just number three is missing,” Madison ran a hand over her braids and huffed. T’Challa banged on his mother’s door again before taking a step back and pacing the hall. “Okay, You and Sakura just stay there, keep trying to reach Amare. I’m on my way and I’ll try to reach Shuri. See if you can figure out what key is missing.”

“Okay, call us when you land.”

T’Challa hung up the phone, “Umama!” He banged on the door before Ramonda yanked it open. “T’Challa, what in Bast’s name-”

“It’s Amani, she’s missing. We have to go now, can you try to reach Shuri? Her friends think they have a lead but we need to reach Amare.”

“How long has she been missing?” The queen mother rushed back in her room and started to get dressed and pack a bag. “We don’t know, I just got off the phone with Madiyson. They went to the house and she was missing.”

“Did they call the police?”

“They say they can’t report her absence until 48 hours has passed,” T’Challa opened his beads and messaged Okoye. I need you, Ayo, a plane, and five of your best warriors. Meet me on the tarmac in 30.”

“When do we leave?”

“In 30 minutes, I have to pack a bag. Ayo and Okoye will meet us at the tarmac with some back up, can you please try to reach Shuri while I get ready?”

“Yes, I will try calling her.”

The king nodded and turned to rush back to his room. “T’Challa,” Ramonda called out,”We will find her. She will be alright.” He offered his mother a sad smile before continuing down the hall.

“It’s the North Carolina key?”

“Yes. Number 3 it's her favorite number for her favorite house.” Amare insisted as Sakura flipped through the keys again.

“Do you know the address?” Madison interrupted.upiui

“Uh, number 3 Lodge Street Asheville, North Carolina.”

“And you’re sure that is the key that is missing?” T’Challa interrupted Madiyson and Amare. The teen looked at the king through the camera, the lights of the quinjet humming behind her as Shuri watched on. “Yes, I’m positive. Amani is heading to the North Carolina house.”

The king hit the table and turned to his guard, “We are heading to North Carolina. Now.”

“We’ll meet you there-”

“No,” T’Challa and his mother answered at the same time.``You two stay exactly where you are,'' Ramonda demanded. “All due respect, I am not staying over here in Germany when my sister has been kidnapped by her abuser!” Amare rebutted. “Yes, but for all we know he has men looking for you too. As well as Madiyson and Sakura. So until then, at least we know where you are. We are sending Dora Milaje to your hotel.” T’Challa finalized.

“No, I am not standing back when my sister is in danger. I wasn’t there the first time she was saved and opened her eyes, I want to be there this time.” Amare demanded while she teared up and T’Challa sighed. He walked around the desk to look at Okoye and his mother. “You all can head back to Wakanda, once the extra Dora arrive. Once we have her, we’ll bring her back to Shuri’s lab, there you guys can see her.” The king looked at everyone in the room, “Besides, I don’t think it is safe for any of you to be in the US alone right now.”

“So what are you saying?” Sakura sat up from her place on the couch. T’Challa nodded at the general of the Dora Milaje. Okoye tapped her staff and escorted the rest of the warriors out of the home. Once the door had shut the room turned to face T’Challa again. “I have been thinking, especially in light of what has happened to Amani, that you all should move to Wakanda. Stay in the palace of course. I know you two would have to travel for business and Amare we’d have to figure out your schooling, but it is obvious that this government has no vestment in keeping you all safe. I can do something about it and I will, if you all will let me.”

“I don’t know T-” Madiyson started.

“I had been thinking about transferring to study with Shuri, but I don’t know how Amani would take it.” Amare added. “She’s not just gonna give up her independence. She just got it back from Darius,” Sakura added. “I know but it is not safe here, at least for now. As well connected as that fugitive is, who knows what will happen to you all if he goes back to jail. I let Amani convince me she would be safe, and now two months later we are searching for her praying to Bast that she isn’t dead.”

“T’Challa this is not your fault,” Sakura interjected. “I know, but if I can keep you all safe, I have a responsibility to do so. You will have free will and autonomy, but at least inside Wakanda’s borders, I can guarantee your safety.

“I think this is a lovely conversation, but might I remind you all that this is a time sensitive case. Let’s table this discussion until we all make it back to Wakanda” Shuri interrupted the discussion that seemed to be heading towards an endless round table. “Shuri is right, time is of the essence.” Ramonda spoke standing, “everyone comes back to wakanda for the time being. Once we rescue Amani, we send our war dogs to clear any suspicions and make sure it is safe for you all to return. Then we make a decision. Until then-“

“We focus on the task at hand.” Madiyson finished and Ramonda agreed. “Shuri and Amare head back home once the Dora arrive. When we have Amani we’ll let you know.”

“Keep my sister safe T’Challa,” Amare asserted before hanging up. “She’s just nervous,” Sakura reassured. “We are all glad we have someone here to help us this time. But we should get on the road. Darius works fast.” The Afro-Asian waitress added solemnly. The king nodded, “Phambile,” he called and the guards opened the doors escorting everyone to the cars waiting to race to the airport.”

Fourteen Hours Ago

“Amani.” The heiress fumbled to wrap the stick back it s package and hide it on the sink before running out of her bathroom. “Hey,” she offered her younger sister a smile but only received a confused face in return. “Hey, you’re up early, I thought you’d be sleep,” Amare took a seat in one of the overstuffed arm chairs in her sisters bedroom. “I wasn’t feeling well. I got up to take some medicine no biggie,”Amani shrugged. “You go to the doctor again soon right? You should have her check it out.”

“She’s an OBGYN, but I’ll see what she might be able to recommend.”

“Cool, well I’d been thinking-“

“Oh that’s never good,” the heiress laughed as her sister shot daggers her way. “As I was saying. I’ve been thinking about transferring to study in Wakanda with Shuri. It’d make it easier for you to come see Tchalla and I could get accustomed to the culture before we move there-“

“Hey hey, who said we we’re moving to Wakanda?”

“Amani. I’m not dumb or a little girl anymore. I know how marriages and relationships work. I know you live tchalla. I know he loves you. And I know how monarchies work. I also know that T’Challa has asked you to move in or visit more often and that I’m probably the reason you’re hesitant about doing either.”

“You’re right, but I didn’t say anything cause I don’t want you thinking you have to move because of me and T’Challa. I want you to follow your dreams, and dtudying at MIT was one of those dreams.”

“And dreams change, Amare reminded. I used to any to be a ballerina, astronaut, actress, and hear I am studying at MIT. And now, I know that the university of Wakanda can offer me so much more. Plus I’ll get to spend more time with my best friend and take advantage of her lab. It’s a win win!” The young genius insisted. Amani sighed and settled on the chair next to her.

“How about we finish out this fall semester and pick up the conversation over Christmas break. I just don’t want you to regret anything.” The older sister explained.

“That’s fair.” Amare nodded and stood. “Back to you though, are you sure you’re feeling well enough for me to leave?”

“Now you sound like the older sister. I’ll be fine kid, you go have fun at your conference thing in Germany. Have you finished packing?”

“Nope, I wanted to get and early start at the stores so I can pack before my flight.”

“Okay, I’m headed back to sleep. But don’t crash the car and fill up the tank before you come back please.”

“I always do,” Amare smiled before kissing her sister's cheek and slipping out of the room. Once Amani heard the front door shut. She locked herself in the bathroom and unwrapped the third and final test. She sat them all in a row before flopping down on the toilet.

“Shit.”

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama

#tchalla fanfiction #tchalla #tchalla imagine #tchalla x reader #blackpantherimagines #apbpfics #tchalla x black! reader #tchalla x black!oc #tchalla x oc #tchalla x you #starlightfic #shuri black panther #tchalla black panther #t’challa x oc #t’challa x reader #t’challa udaku

17 notes · View notes

spookygrantaire · 4 years ago

Text

Of Heroes and Thieves

Part 2!

I forgot to add warnings, which, just swearing, really. Shitty accents and French. I should be writing this on my writing blog @jax-writes but I started it here, and here shall I finish it. But follow me over there. Eventually I’ll add this to my works on AO3 as well.

It was her phone ringing that woke her up a few days later. She really, truly meant to stay for all of thirty seconds. It was supposed to be a ride. But they’d all (mostly Clint) convinced her to stay for a week. She was liking it here too much, truth be told. They were all so kind, and truly weren’t judgmental of her life as a thief. “We all have something dark in our pasts,” Natasha had told her. “Some things we don’t talk about except in therapy, and some we just don’t talk about at all. Either way, you’re not alone here, but frankly, you’re the most open one about it.” She didn’t see a need not to be open about everything here though. They all knew who she worked for, who her family was. And who was now after her.

“Hello?” she answered, voice drowsy, not looking at the caller ID.

“Chere, yo’ need to get back home,” a voice smooth as velvet responded on the other end.

She swallowed and sat up. “Am I on trial?”

A pause. “Two days. I already know they talked down de Rippers. Yo’ won’ be turned inta de Assassins.” She could feel his eyeroll.

“How did that happen?”

A deep sigh. “We’re moving up de wedding date in exchange fo’ yo’ to be dealt with by us only.”

“Oh, Remy,” she commiserated. He loved Belladonna, but she knew he wasn’t ready for a life with her. “I’m sorry.”

“Chere, I t’ink. I t’ink yo’ might be gettin’ excommunicated.” His voice was sad, and she knew it was the better option to happen to her, but she still felt the shock and grief roll through her body. She could probably handle not being sent on jobs anymore; she could take it up anywhere since she already had a reputation built. But never being allowed back home again? Not to see her sister? She choked on a sob that woke up the man in bed next to her.

“Babe?” he pulled her close, not understanding what was happening, but still knowing he was needed.

She took a deep breath. “Two days from now? Do you know what time?”

“Jus’ whenever you can get here. Yo’ in New York, oui? Yo’ drive, an’ it’ take yo’ twen’y hours give ‘r take.”

“Oui. I’ll head out in a bit. The heads up is just so I get goodbyes, isn’t it?”

A long pause. “We see yo’ when yo’ get here, Chere. Yo’ can bring someone wit’ yo’ inta de city, mais dey can’ come near de home. Pere said since yo’ famille.”

She nodded before saying her goodbye and disconnecting the call. Tears rolled down her face as she looked at Clint. “Will you go with me?”

“Anywhere, any time.”

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

An hour later, the team was gathered around to say goodbye. “You know for sure it's just an excommunication, and not worse?” Peter asked.

She shook her head. “But I doubt they’d have let me bring Clint if it was a death sentence.” With that, she slung her bag over her shoulder and looked at Clint. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Clint nodded. “You sure you don’t want to take a jet?”

She shook her head once more, as she began heading toward the door. “No, I need the drive to calm myself some. We ain’t taking any back roads though. I don’t trust Marius Boudreaux to not send anyone after me. He just wouldn’t on the highways since it’s too many witnesses.”

“Would he really risk it? Going against your side?” Clint asked, turning to wave at the team once more before the pair exited.

She shrugged. “I suppose, realistically no, what with the two Guilds trying to form an alliance. They’re moving up Remy and Belle’s wedding date because of this. I expect it’ll be next week at the latest. More than likely this weekend. Wonder how Julien is gonna take that,” she cringed as she moved to the driver’s side of the SUV. Clint sighed and handed her the keys before moving to get in on the passenger side. “You pick the tunes?” she offered.

“Deal.” And with that, they left the compound, a long drive ahead of them.

It was eighteen hours later, and they were finally in the state. They’d taken turns driving so they could take turns sleeping. When they were just outside the state they took a bit of a break to stretch their legs and have a little picnic at a park they found. “We’re not gonna be able to stay the night in the city after the trial, and I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I’d love to show you around. But what I’m saying I guess is we’ll need to leave the state before we can get a motel and sleep off some of this trip.”

“That’s fine, babe. You can show me a couple things on the way at least. And grab all the pictures you can. And I was thinking.”

“Hmm?” she looked up from her chips, meeting his eyes.

“After we call the team to update them--we have to or they’re gonna fly down here and fight everyone--we could do a sort of road trip.”

“A road trip?” she smiled.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I could use a vacation. We could see the sights between here and the compound. Maybe peek at the Smokey Mountains. I hear North Carolina is nice this time of year.”

“I know a spot in Asheville,” she shrugged. “Sure. I’m in. I won’t even steal anything on the way,” she crossed her heart.

Clint chuckled. “Don’t lie, babe. It’s habitual for you right now. It’ll take a long time to get out of your system if it ever does. That’s fine, well not fine, but I understand. I’m here for you. And I’ve been there.”

“You a secret professional thief for a huge crime syndicate too?” she smirked.

“It was a carnival, but close enough,” he smirked.

At that, her eyes widened and she choked on her drink. “Seriously?” she coughed. “That was not in your file.”

“Fury erased it when I joined up. Just in case.”

“Huh. You’re full of surprises, Clint Barton,” she said before standing. Let’s go. We’ll make it to the city by ten and you can roam the Quarter while I. Say goodbye, I guess. It’s one big party down there, so have a drink or four for me. Don’t meet any girls I won’t think are pretty.”

He laughed. “I’m a one woman man, babe. You’re pretty stuck with me, I’d say.”

“Yeah?” she glanced at him as she slid behind the wheel once more. “Not like we’ve actually talked about it. You still don’t know a lot about me. I still don’t know a lot about you.”

“That’s why it’s the getting to know each other phase, babe. But I’ve been hooked since day one. Good luck getting rid of me.”

She smiled and kissed him before they set off. There was still that feeling of dread in her stomach, but he was doing a good job of making her feel a little lighter. She just hoped her sentence was what she thought it was; she didn’t want to break Clint’s heart.

#Hawkeye x reader #Clint Barton fic #Clint x reader #marvel imagines #X-Men universe included #Remy LeBeau #thieves guild #Of Heroes and Thieves

26 notes · View notes

anjanettexcordonia · 4 years ago

Text

Ties That Bind

**Trigger Warnings**

DARK DARK DARK

-NSFW/Mental Health/Violence/Rape Minimal fluff if any at all tbh.

***If you are sensitive to any of these please do not read.

Pairing: Liam x MC, Liam x Riley, Drake x Olivia

Word Count: 4,189 (I know its forever long but its worth it in my biased opinion)

This is my first time writing any kind of fiction. I was inspired by all of you amazing writers! I received positive feedback on this chapter so I’m hoping you all like it too! Its very dark and very very twisted. I can not emphasize it enough.

**READ WITH CAUTION**

Excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings.

This will be a six part series. I do not have a timeline for when I will post. (I’m a mom & work full time)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

“Riley it’s time to go, My Queen.” Liam yells from the first floor of their quarters. “Drake & Olivia are already almost to Lythikos with our children and we are still at the palace! Let’s goooooo my love!”

Riley & Liam were preparing to head to their Valtorian Estate for a night before heading to the United States for a week long excursion at their Biltmore Estate in North Carolina. The Biltmore was their American private residence. Left to her after the death of her mother. They went twice a year just the two of them. Their children had never stepped foot on the property. Much less America. Riley hated America. She used the country only to satiate her needs. Her father and sister never visited the Biltmore Estate. Her father primarily lived in his penthouse in New York. Her sister never left their childhood home in the Hamptons. The Biltmore was hers to do with as she pleased.

Riley and Liam make their way down to a blacked out Cadillac Escalade waiting for them in the Royal private exit of the garage.

“Liam, let’s call Drake & Olivia one more time before we get to Valtoria. You know after tonight we won’t be communicating with anyone for a full week.” Riley winked at Liam.

My God this woman is my everything. How did I survive without her? Liam thought.

Liam pulls out his iPhone and scrolls to Olivia's name and hits call.

“Yes your majesty,” Olivia purrs into the phone.

“Hello Liv, just checking on the kids. You and Drake know Riley and I will be incognito for a week. Remember if it’s an emergency reach out to Hana and Maxwell. Do not contact us unless it’s literally life or death.” Drake yells through the phone, “Li we do this twice year every year since the first little squirt you two brought home. We got this. By the way what exactly do you guys do in America that you’ve never told us?”

“This trio is a joy. They are perfectly fine. Uncle Max is on his way with Auntie Hana. This should be a Mary Poppins nightmare.” Olivia chuckled.

“It’s just our special time. Not as King and Queen of Cordonia but as husband and wife. That’s all.” Riley replies. Liam squeezing Riley’s thigh at her smirk, knowing full well that wasn’t exactly true.

“Tell our babies we love them, and take care of and protect them while we’re gone. Don’t let Max feed them too much sugar. They will never sleep!”

Always,” Drake softly spoke, “Uncle Drake and Aunt Livvy are going to show them how fun we really are!” Ellie squeals in the background at her Uncle.

Liam & Riley end the call with a sigh of relief. This trip was going to be catalyst. They both knew they were coming back to Cordonia forever changed.

Three hours later Valtoria came into view. The sun was beginning to set over the cascading waterfall behind the large castle. Riley and Liam had been catching up on last minute emails before they arrived. They had an understanding between each other that during their two weeks a year no work was allowed. No cellphones other than 1 for emergencies only. No laptops no tablets of any sort. They completely unplug.

Bastien stopped the suv in front of the large estate. Liam hopped out running around to hold the car door open for his wife. HIS Queen.

Gladys met them outside the door.

“Your majesties” Gladys dipped into a low curtsy.

“Hello Gladys” Liam replied. Is everything ready for our stay tonight and departure in the morning?”

“It is.” Is there anything else Your Majesty requests?”

“No thank you Gladys.”

As they walk towards the entrance of the large French Gothic style castle, Liam scoops Riley into his arms bridal style and walks her across the threshold.

“Good night everyone. Gladys have our usual chicken tangine, apple butter bread, balava & chocolate cake left in the kitchen. Everyone is excused for the rest of the night.”

Gladys nodded her head at her King’s command and curtsied as he walked up the grand staircase.

“Thank you, Gladys!” Riley yelled down at her.

Gladys and Bastien both knew what that meant. Get out now. Do not come back until sunrise under any circumstances. Gladys and Bastien were the only two who knew. And also who knew why.

Liam carried his bride to their suite. Their bedroom at Valtoria was protected. They had it modified during their engagement. No one was allowed entrance. Gladys was the only person granted entrance for 2 hours to clean after each visit. And only under the watchful eye of the Queen herself. This belonged to them. They maintained this room. Not staff. Not like the palace.

The entrance of the door was built almost as a panic room. A large heavy blast proof door protected the entrance. A Handprint scan of both the King and Queen were the only way of access to their master suite. That entire room was reinforced. It was safe. Nothing and no one was coming through to hurt them. If they ever needed protection, this is where they would bring their family. For now, it wasn’t for their family. It was a source of healing and triumph. It was terror and torture. It was love and pain.

Most of the other service members believed they were simply paranoid. Ruling a country you had a right to be paranoid, is what they told themselves when they walked by the master suite. Some were curious about what was behind that heavy steel door. No one ever attempted to sneak peek. They knew better. No one could explain it, as the king and Queen were very kind and fair people, there was a vibe or an energy that everyone could feel from them. It was uncomfortable. Sometimes there was no emotion from either of them. Hollow blank stares & flat monotone voices. That rarely happened. And when it did, their week vacation was close. Whatever they did during those 2 weeks out of the year made them better each time.

🍈

Liam flashes his million dollar smile down at his wife as they enter. His manhood already dancing in its confines. They enter their bedroom and swiftly close the door. Their bedroom in Valtoria is for them. And them only. No one including their children are granted access. And for good reason. The master suite of Valtoria has a large four-poster bed. Above the bed hung a large medal bar suspended from the ceiling with leather arm straps. arm and ankle straps hung from each corner of the bed. The walls were adorned with shelves of Belts, gags, riding crops and rope. There were shelves of weapons large & small daggers and swords.

The walls were a deep maroon. It was still exceptionally regal but with a darker contrast. This is not a place most people would be comfortable walking into. Most people except the King & Queen of Cordonia.

Liam kicked the door shut with a force that made the door trim rattle. He tossed his Queen on to the bed, climbing on top of her. He pulled her full lips into his mouth and breathed her in. He could never get enough of her. How did he survive without her? Without her touch? Her voice? Her scent? He never needed anyone except her. Only her. Forever her. No one could calm him like she could. She was his safe house and his haven. He could do things with and to her no one else could understand. Her crystal blue eyes darkened into the depths of the ocean only for him. He knew her. He was her. They were one. Not only in marriage but spirit and soul. They were connected.

Riley stared up at her husband taking in every perfect feature and every invisible flaw, only flaws she could see. Only flaws she could love. She understood him. She never had to ask why. She was never afraid. It was Game, Set, Match the first time she locked eyes with his deep dark painful eyes. She could sense him before she ever knew him. Her long honey blonde hair pooled around her head as she sank into his fiery kiss. He was the only man she ever willingly kissed. The only man she allowed to ever touch her body. He worshipped her. He was her breath. She couldn’t breathe without him filling her lungs. He filled the deepest parts of her. Parts only he knew existed. Parts that were created not born. Evil. In every sense of the word.

Fourteen Year Old Riley.

“Mother, why are you crying?” Riley watches her mother standing in her large walk-in closet pouring herself another drink.

“Just go away Katherine Riley.” Ashley sighed. Riley could her the sadness in her voice. Usually her mother just ignored her.

“Mother I..I.. I think it’s best we all stay at school for the summer this year.”

“I SAID GO THE FUCK AWAY! WHAT DONT YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT THAT?”

Riley felt the sting of tears in her eyes and she quickly turned to walk away.

“Wait Katie” Ashley sighed. “It’s time we had a conversation. You're old enough now & after the things you’ve seen and heard throughout your life, it won’t come as much of a surprise to you, I believe.” Riley turned around. Eyeing her mother not sure what to make of this conversation.

“Your father & I had what you would call an arranged marriage per se. People of our status in life, it’s not uncommon. We dated some. A short while I suppose. Coming from the families that we do it’s important to ensure that our wealth will always continue to grow, we married after a few months of dating.” Ashley took a long sip of her gin & tonic. “To our parents' delight. Not ours. Not mine.”

“Immediately after we married things changed. I was a virgin & I wasn’t ready yet. I wanted to love my husband first. He stole that from me in the most horrific of ways. And you were the product of that. When I look at you, that’s all I see. I see violence, blood and stolen innocence. Each of your siblings were the products of the same. Violent and brutal attacks. Each time left me broken. After the last assault he shattered my pelvis and ruptured my cervix. I can no longer bear children. That’s all each of you are to me. Your father is evil. An evil which you’ve never known. Next time he will kill me. I’m leaving tonight.”

Riley stood stunned. Trying to wrap her mind around what this woman in front of her has told her. She couldn’t understand. She knew her father tortured her mother. She had her the screams and the slams at night. She saw the blood stained carpets and walls in the stairwell in their Hamptons beach house. She knew her father was evil. All too well. Ashely has no idea the hell her children had been going through. He tormented them as well. He would sneak into her room in the middle of the night when the screams finally ended and watch her. Her brothers never spoke of their trauma but she knew it was there.

“Can we come with you Mother?”

“No.”

“Can you wait until after my birthday? It’s tomorrow Mother?”

Riley wasn’t sure why that memory had flashed through her mind. She furrowed her brows in confusion.

“What is it Riley?”

“I was thinking of the night before he killed her. Random I guess.” Liam leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“My King” Riley sighed, holding his forearms in her grasp.

“Yes My Queen?”

“Are we prepared for our return to the estate?” She asked, leaning into to bite his shoulder as he hovered over.

“We are. Our gifts are already waiting for us. They were delivered this morning. They are being fed and groomed as we speak my love. I’m ready for our warm-up before the real work begins.”

Riley’s stomach groaned.

“I’m ready. We can eat when we’re finished.”

🍋

Liam pulled Riley to her feet. He tugged her top above her head. He was thankful she wasn’t wearing a bra. He leaned down taking a taut pink nipple in his mouth, swirling his tounge until it was a hardened peak. He showed the same attention to the other nipple. Riley pulled Liams t-shirt over his head. She always worshipped her playground. She licked her way between each sculpted ab. Liam gripped her hair as she slid his sweatpants to the floor. She leaned on her knees engulfing his engorged length in her mouth while she swirled her tongue all the way down his shaft. She slowly eased him out of her mouth and stood back up.

“Fuck Riley”

“I just needed to taste you my King.”

Liam bit his bottom lip as he pulled her sweatpants down. Leaving her lacy black thong on her hips.

They walked hand in hand to the large bathroom. The bathroom sleek and modern. Liam felt the warmth of the heated floors on his feet as he lifted his Queen into the tub. He grabbed a bottle of baby oil off the counter. He poured a generous amount into his hands and covered Riley’s body in oil. He gently lifted her from the tub carrying her back to the bedroom. He climbed the small steps on to the bed standing on the mattress. Riley lifted her arms into the arm straps suspended from the high ceiling. Baby oil kept her skin protected and also made it more of a challenge for them.

Once she was firmly secured into the arm and ankle restraints with only the medal bar for her to grip onto, Liam stepped off the bed.

“My Queen, what pray tell interests you tonight?”

“Torture me Liam”

“As you wish my Queen, safe word?”

“Celeste My King”

Liam smirked at her chosen safe word. Oh Celeste will know who her king is too when we’re finished with her. Won’t she my Queen?

Liam grabbed a riding crop from the wall and smacked Riley hard across her bare ass. Thong still in place. Riley winced as she heard the crack of the crop against her slick skin.

“Please my king”

“Shut up, you don’t speak until I tell you to open your filthy mouth for me”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Liam pulled a small dagger from the bedside table. The handle adorned with red rubies in the shape of W & K. King William Constantine Rhys & Queen Katherine Riley Vanderbilt Rhys.

He ran the dagger along her torso up to her neck tracing old subtle scars.

“Open your mouth baby” Liam whispered.

Riley opened her mouth. She could feel her core pooling. Moisture threatening to drip down her thighs.

Liam slid the dagger over her flattened tongue flipping it over in her mouth. He slid the dagger down her chin to her throat. He pressed the dagger more firm into her skin causing her blood to bubble to the surface. He sliced gently to her belly button. Riley wincing in pain but loving the feel of cold dagger dragging down her flesh.

Liam knelt to his knees and clasped his mouth around her nub. Still holding the dagger against her thigh as he gripped her. He dragged the knife across her sex and sliced her underwear in two.

Liam delved his fingers into her sex as hard as he could. He swirled his tongue around clit. Liam pumped and curled his fingers in out of her fast and hard. His rock hard length dripping precum.

More Liam Don’t stop.” Riley screamed.

Hearing Riley scream made Liam abruptly stop completely. Fingers still inside her, Liam pulled his head back to look up at her.

“Did I tell you to speak?”

Sliding his fingers out, Liam grabbed the crop and slapped it hard across her dripping pussy.

“You speak when I say. Next time I won’t be as calm with you.”

“Fuck you Liam” Riley screamed, Venom dripping from her lips. She was seething at his refusal of her release she so desperately needed.

Riley covered in welts from the crop and dried blood across her torso, Liam unhooked each restraint.

“What the fuck Liam? We aren’t finished playing.”

Liam slapped her hard across the face with the crop. Riley’s head falling to her shoulder. Fire burned in Liams eyes as he watched the blood drip down the corner of her mouth. Riley reached for the dagger as Liam crashed his mouth onto hers. Riley could taste a mixture of copper and salt on his tongue.

Riley dragged the dagger across Liams thigh drawing a bit of blood. She reached the hair on the nape of his neck and pulled hard. Liams neck snapped as she slid the dagger across his jugular.

She dragged the dagger across his chest, ripping his chest open watching the blood drip down his chest to his abdomen.

Liam has enough. He needed her now. He had everything he needed from her. He pulled her into his taking the dagger from her and throwing it on the floor. The slight scabs that had formed from the congealing blood on her sternum ripped open with friction of their bodies rubbing together. Liam slammed Riley into the bed. He grabbed her ankles and spread her as far as apart as he could before slamming his hard cock into her waiting center.

Riley screamed in pain and satisfaction. Her manicured nails digging into back as deep as she could grasp him.

“I’m not holding back My Queen.”

Liam pumped into her hard and fast. He put one hand on her stomach pressing down, the other hand securing her leg as he continued to massage her walls.

Riley ran her fingers across the dripping blood mixed with sweat. She slid her bloody fingers into her mouth eyeing Liam.

Liam leaned his head down and licked the blood pooling between her breasts and crashed his lips into hers. He felt Riley’s wall fluttering knowing she was close. His cock tightened as she came underneath him. Liam wrapped his hand around her neck and squeezed as his thrust became frantic. Riley’s eyes were wide seeing the power and fire in his eyes.

Riley tried to say Celeste. She couldn’t breathe. He was choking the life out of her without even realizing it. He was pumping hard concentrating on his thrusts as his cock disappeared in and out of her glistening walls.

“I. can’t. let. go. Riley.” Liam spoke between breaths.

Riley understood. He physically couldn’t let her go. Even if he did kill her. It wasn’t malice or hate. This was raw pure love. This is what he needed from her. From his wife. And this is what she needed. She needed him to bring her to the brink of life and pull her back at the same time. This was them.

Liam found his release deep within her. He released her neck right as everything went black. Riley’s eyes fluttered open with a satisfied grin on her face.

“I love you so much my Queen.”

“I love you Liam.“

They laid together on their white silk sheets breathless. Both of their minds running towards the following week.

“We should get cleaned up my love. We’ve made quite the mess I suspect.” Liam whispered.

They both slowly rose from the cloud like confines in a state of stupor.

They made sure to always have white sheets to see every drop they spilled from each other. They’re bodies marked from each other’s carnal pleasure. A release unlike any they’ve shared with anyone else.

“My King you did well. Let’s leave the sheets for tonight.”

“Very well my Queen. I’m not finished with you yet. We will have a week before our next release.”

The dawn crept through they’re tightly drawn curtains. Riley stretched reaching for her husband but found his side of the bed cold. Riley slowly rose from the bed. Still naked and marked from their endless night. Riley made her way to the shower to find Liam soaking in the tub.

“Join me?”

Riley slid in front of him feeling the sting from her open wounds that covered her body.

“We have a long flight to states in an hour. Are you ready for this Riley?”

“Liam It’s time. It’s time to take off our masks and savor the tastes of revenge. Of freedom.”

“This is our last time. We need to take our time with them. Please don’t make it too quick like last time with Madeline.”

“My king, I take offense.” Riley huffed. “I gave you the release you craved with Madeline. Her life was a sweet release for me.”

An hour later the King and Queen bordered their private jet to American hand in hand.

Biltmore Estate

“I can’t believe I’m doing this for these twisted fucks. Fucking monarchs just get to do whatever they want with whomever they want.” Anthony muttered to himself.

Anthony was the groundskeeper. He took care of everything for his King and Queen during their stays. And they paid him handsomely. He primarily resided at the estate to maintain the grounds as well as the estate itself. The estate held many secrets that he was tasked to solely hold.

“Please” a raspy voice called out.

“Shut up Celeste. Your King is on his way.”

Celeste let a muffled cry as she heard the bars slam shut.

“I’ll be back to get you cleaned up when I’m finished with Ashley and Amelia.”

The private jet landed at the airport in Raleigh North Carolina. Liam and Riley made their discreetly to an SUV meant to take them to their estate.

“Your majesty King Liam” Anthony bowed.

Liam rushed in. “Hello Anthony, you are dismissed. I’ll need the keys to the Bowels please. Our gifts are secure and ready I presume?”

“Yes your majesty, they have been cleaned, fed, and await you. I will take my leave now.”

Riley waited in the suv until Anthony left. She couldn’t maintain a stoic facade during their times away. She spotted Anthony’s car pull away from the estate headed to the servants quarters. Riley rushed out and straight to Liam pulling him into a lustful kiss. They made their way to the nicknamed Bowels, a cellar that has been retrofitted with cells. They hold Liam and Riley’s victims as well as their aggressors.

“Wait Liam, why is Anton here?”

Riley looked on the computers outside the cellar doors in the security room. They were only supposed to have 3 women. She didn’t understand. What was Liam up to?

Liam smirked. Suddenly a loud knocking was coming from the front doors. They glanced down at the monitors. Riley’s eyes widened when she saw the fiery red hair standing in front of the cameras.

“Liam uh where are our children? Please...”

“Riley. They are with Max and Hana in Lythikos. Leo will be there soon to help with them as well. Don’t worry my love. Now to explain about Drake and Liv. They needed to see the truth. About them, about us. I’m ready to share parts of our true selves with the family we created.”

Riley nodded. She was not in a teaching mood.

“Private now Liam.”

“What Riley? What’s the problem?”

“The problem? How can we be US with them? I’m not here to teach them how to become sociopaths like us Liam. Fuck.”

“Relax baby.” Liam only used the baby pet name when he was confident in his prowess.

“Fine. They better not fuck this up and I’m not holding back.”

The two couples made their way to the cellar door. Liam held Riley’s hand while he unlocked the door. The electronic key and palm scanner both sprang green in sequence. Drake and Liv quickened their breath.

“We have a ritual guys if you don’t mind standing back. And you can join if you like.” Riley calmly stated.

Liam and Riley stripped naked. Liam pushing Riley against the cellar door in a hungry kiss. Liv admired the marks and scars the two in front of her were covered in. Some old, some new. She was intrigued. Drake’s breath quickened. They joined their best friends in the nude. Liam and Riley glanced behind them noticing Liv and Drake in the same fashion. None of them faced with the pain they had felt at sometime or the other. The abuse. The abuse that twisted them into who they were. Not who they had become.

The door opened. Celeste gasped seeing her half brother, sister in law, the scarlet duchess & the commoner walking through the door naked. Celeste had no idea what circle of hell she was about to enter. Nor that there were others destined to meet the same fate she would soon come to meet. At the hands of her King and his Queen.

“Hello Cece” Liam laughed in a voice unrecognizable to the others in the group yet all too familiar to his wife.

The demons have come out to play.

#theroyalromance #kingliam queenriley dark twisted triggerwarnings mc kingliamxmc drake olivia

49 notes · View notes

theliberaltony · 4 years ago

Link

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

FiveThirtyEight has issued its final presidential forecast. There hasn’t been a lot of change over the past 24 or 48 hours, as most of the late polling either came in close to our previous polling averages, or came from — frankly — fairly random pollsters that don’t get a lot of weight in our forecast.

Of course, you can click over to the forecast right now if you’d like to see what it says — I’m sure most of you have already done that. But in these accompanying write-ups, I like to provide some context. When I wrote about our final presidential forecast in 2012, for example, I was trying to explain why a race that everyone assumed was close actually reflected a fairly decisive advantage for Barack Obama. When I wrote about our final forecast in 2016, conversely, it was pretty much the opposite. I was trying to explain that, although Hillary Clinton was favored, what most of the media was portraying as a sure thing was a highly competitive contest between her and Donald Trump.

This year … I’m not really sure what I’m trying to convince you of. If you think that polling is irrevocably broken because of 2016 — well, that’s not really correct. On the other hand, if it weren’t for 2016, people might look at Joe Biden’s large lead in national polls — the largest of any candidate on the eve of the election since Bill Clinton in 1996 — and conclude that Trump was certain to be a one-term president. If you do think that, please read my story from earlier this week about how Trump can win and why a 10 percent chance needs to be taken seriously.

Nonetheless, Biden’s standing is considerably stronger than Clinton’s at the end of the 2016 race. His lead is larger than Clinton’s in every battleground state, and more than double her lead nationally. Our model forecasts Biden to win the popular vote by 8 percentage points,5 more than twice Clinton’s projected margin at the end of 2016.

Indeed, some of the dynamics that allowed Trump to prevail in 2016 wouldn’t seem to exist this year. There are considerably fewer undecided voters in this race — just 4.8 percent of voters say they’re undecided or plan to vote for third-party candidates, as compared to 12.5 percent at the end of 2016. And the polls have been considerably more stable this year than they were four years ago. Finally, unlike the “Comey letter” in the closing days of the campaign four years ago — when then-FBI Director James Comey told Congress that new evidence had turned up pertinent to the investigation into the private email server that Clinton used as secretary of state — there’s been no major development in the final 10 days to further shake up the race.

Now, there are also some sources of error that weren’t as relevant four years ago. The big surge in early and mail voting — around 100 million people have already voted! — could present challenges to pollsters, for instance. Still, even making what we think are fairly conservative assumptions, our final forecast has Biden with an 89 percent chance of winning the Electoral College, as compared to a 10 percent chance for Trump. (The remaining 1 percent reflects rounding error, plus the chance of an Electoral College tie.)

But what’s tricky about this race is that — because of Trump’s Electoral College advantage, which he largely carries over from 2016 — it wouldn’t take that big of a polling error in Trump’s favor to make the election interesting. Importantly, interesting isn’t the same thing as a likely Trump win; instead, the probable result of a 2016-style polling error would be a Biden victory but one that took some time to resolve and which could imperil Democrats’ chances of taking over the Senate. On the flip side, it wouldn’t take much of a polling error in Biden’s favor to turn 2020 into a historic landslide against Trump.

So as we did four years ago, let’s run through a few stress checks here. On average in past elections, the final polls have been off by around 3 percentage points. How would the map change if there were a 3-point error in Trump’s direction? And what about a 3-point error in Biden’s direction? Keeping in mind that some states move more than others in accordance with national trends, here’s what our final forecast shows:

How a 2016-sized polling error would change our forecast

Biden’s projected margin of victory or defeat in the most competitive states

with 3-point national error … State Final 538 Forecast IN BIDEN’S FAVOR IN TRUMP’S FAVOR New Hampshire +10.6 +14.5 +6.7 Minnesota +9.1 +12.1 +6.0 Wisconsin +8.3 +11.6 +5.1 Michigan +8.0 +11.2 +4.9 Nevada +6.1 +9.5 +2.8 Pennsylvania +4.7 +7.7 +1.7 NE-2 +3.2 +6.4 -0.0 Arizona +2.6 +5.8 -0.7 Florida +2.5 +5.7 -0.7 North Carolina +1.8 +4.7 -1.1 ME-2 +1.6 +4.8 -1.6 Georgia +1.0 +3.6 -1.6 Ohio -0.6 +2.5 -3.7 Iowa -1.5 +2.0 -5.0 Texas -1.5 +1.7 -4.7 Montana -6.4 -3.3 -9.5 South Carolina -7.5 -4.8 -10.2 Alaska -8.5 -5.3 -11.7 Missouri -9.4 -6.3 -12.5

First, before we get to the Biden-friendly or Trump-friendly scenarios: Suppose this is one of those happy years when there isn’t any systematic error in the polls — that is, Biden wins by about 8 points nationally. In that case, then Biden’s going to win the Electoral College, even if there might be polling misses in individual states. Biden’s easiest path to victory would be to win back three of the so-called “Blue Wall” states that Hillary Clinton lost: Michigan, Wisconsin and Pennsylvania. Coupled with the states that Clinton won in 2016, that would get Biden up to 278 electoral votes, more than the 270 required. Pennsylvania is the most tenuous of the “Blue Wall” group, but even if Biden lost it — unlikely if polls are about right overall — he’d have plenty of other options as he’s also narrowly ahead in our final forecast in Arizona, Florida, North Carolina and Georgia and only narrowly behind Trump in Ohio, Texas and Iowa.

What if there were a 3-point polling error in Biden’s favor? Then he’d be a favorite in all of the aforementioned states. Coupled with the 2nd Congressional Districts in Maine and Nebraska, where he’s also favored, that would result in his winning 413 electoral votes. Other states that are traditionally extremely red could even come into play for Biden too, with Montana being the most likely possibility, followed by South Carolina, Alaska and Missouri. This scenario would also make for an 11-point popular vote margin for Biden, the biggest by any candidate since Ronald Reagan in 1984, and the biggest winning margin against an incumbent since Franklin Delano Roosevelt against Herbert Hoover in 1932.

But with a 3-point error in Trump’s direction — more or less what happened in 2016 — the race would become competitive. Biden would probably hold on, but he’d only be the outright favorite in states (and congressional districts) containing 279 electoral votes. In Pennsylvania, the tipping-point state, he’d be projected to win by 1.7 percentage points — not within the recount margin, but a close race.

Such a scenario would not be the end of the world for Biden. The extra cushion that he has relative to Clinton helps a lot; it means that with a 2016-style polling error, he’d narrowly win some states that she narrowly lost. Biden has polled well recently in Michigan and Wisconsin in particular and has big leads there. Still, this would not be the sort of outcome that Democrats were hoping for. For one thing, because Biden would probably be reliant on Pennsylvania in this scenario — a state that is expected to take some time to count its vote — the election might take longer to call. For another, it could yield a fairly bad map as far as Democrats’ Senate hopes go, as Biden would be a narrow underdog in several states with key Senate races, including Arizona, North Carolina, Georgia and Iowa. So while Biden isn’t a normal-sized polling error away from losing, he is a normal-sized polling error away from having a messy win that might not come with control of Congress.

Still, as much as we’ve tried to strike a note of caution, Democrats have a right to be pleased about where they wound up. Sure, Biden could be in a meaningly safer position with a larger polling lead in Pennsylvania or Arizona, where his numbers have slipped a bit down the stretch run. Nonetheless, if we’d told our Democratic readers six months ago that Biden would be heading into election morning ahead by 8 points nationally, also ahead by 8 points in Wisconsin and Michigan, by 5 points in Pennsylvania, by 2 or 3 points in Florida and Arizona, and even a little bit ahead in Georgia and with a pretty decent chance to win Texas, we think they’d be fairly pleased.

It’s also worth keeping in mind the background conditions in the country today. Trump only barely won the election four years ago, against a highly unpopular opponent in Clinton. In 2016, 18 percent of voters in the national exit poll disliked both Trump and Clinton, and those voters went for Trump by 17 points. If they’d merely split evenly, Clinton would have (narrowly) won the Electoral College. Many of those voters actually like Biden, though, who has much better favorability ratings than either Clinton or Trump.

Meanwhile, the election comes at a time where a 2:1 majority of voters are dissatisfied with the direction of the country amid a COVID-19 pandemic that his killed 233,000 Americans — and which has gotten worse in recent weeks — along with high (though improving) unemployment, a summer of racial protests, and continuous erosions of democratic norms by Trump and his administration. Trump’s approval rating has been in negative territory through virtually the entirety of his presidency. Trump’s electoral record is hardly unblemished: Democrats won the popular vote for the U.S. House by nearly 9 points in 2018, about the same margin that Trump now trails in national polls, in an election where polls and forecasts were highly accurate.

In other words, given everything going on in the country — and Biden’s popularity relative to Clinton — it simply shouldn’t be that hard to imagine a small number of voters switching from Trump to Biden. Indeed, that’s what polls show: There are more Trump-to-Biden voters than Clinton-to-Trump voters. The lion’s share of people who voted for Gary Johnson or another third party candidate four years ago also say they plan to vote for Biden.

Trump might be able to overcome this with a disproportionately high Republican turnout. But while Republican turnout might be very high, Democratic turnout almost certainly will be too, as evidenced by, among other things: Democrats’ equal or higher enthusiasm level in polls; their very high numbers in early and absentee voting, and their greater fundraising prowess throughout the cycle.

Again, this is not to deny that Trump will turn out his voters, too. Our model projects overall turnout in the race to be a record setting 158 million, with an 80th percentile range between 147 million and 168 million. But if persuadable voters and independents are mostly flipping to the other party, you need your turnout to be high and for the other party’s to be low to have much of a shot, and that latter condition doesn’t appear likely for Trump.

Still, 10 percent chances happen, there’s never been an election quite like this one and this isn’t a moment that anybody should be taking anything for granted. We hope you’ll follow our coverage for as long as it takes to determine who won.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Nate Silver

8 notes · View notes

dirtydobrik · 5 years ago

Text

getaway - d.d.

plot: you’ve been secretly dating david for a couple months, keeping your relationship a secret from everyone including your friends, and one day you go on a “business trip”/beach vacation to spend time together and a fan sees you out together and shares pictures, essentially outing your relationship

requested: yes, by anon! Reader going on a business trip and being in a secret relationship with david and its like that episode of friends were monica and chandler are hiding their relationship and they go on a “business” trip but its only to spend time together and thats how their friends find out theyre dating.. if that makes sense :) lol

author’s note: hi! i’ve been writing a lot of sad/angst fics lately so here’s another fluff piece. this was requested anonymously so hopefully it was something similar to what you wanted. if you want to send in a request for an imagine, send me a message! (i have been so behind on requests lately but i am trying to get caught up, so i’m trying to post 1-2 times a day so people don’t have to wait ages for me to write their requests)

this picture just radiates boyfriend vibes i’m in love

word count: 1695

masterlist

"Babe, can we please go on a vacation," you begged. You were tired of being cooped up in LA, hidden from the world. You had to sneak over to David's late at night just to spend time with him since none of your friends knew you were together yet.

"How are we supposed to get away from our friends from an entire week?" he questioned, and you sighed. The idea seemed impossible.

"What about just a couple days?"

"I'll see what I can do," David answered and you grinned. You two were in desperate need of some serious alone time. The hardest part of planning this trip would be figuring out how to hide it from your friends.

A few days later David dropped two planes into your lap while you were sitting on the couch in his living room and your eyes widened. They were for a trip to North Carolina from Tuesday to Friday.

"A beach vacation?" you asked, a huge smile on your face. David nodded, and you gave him a hug.

"I'm going to tell everyone that I need to go to New York to go over some things with my publicist and you can say you have to go on a business trip for work. I think that should work."

"It's a perfect plan," you agreed, mentally reminding yourself to take the days off from work.

Tuesday afternoon, you were on your way to the airport. Natalie was dropping you both off, and although she knew you two had something going on, she didn’t think anything of it. You went checked in and went through security, settling into a seat and waiting for your flight. David had a baseball cap on and his hood up so people wouldn’t recognize him.

Seven hours after boarding, you touched down in North Carolina. You got to your AirBnB, a small house right on the water and you couldn’t stop smiling.

"I can’t believe we're here!" you exclaimed gleefully. You were bouncing off the walls with excitement to just have time to enjoy being David.

Wednesday morning you woke up next to David, and he begged you to not get up yet. You rolled over, draping your arm over his chest and leaning up to kiss him.

"Good morning," you grinned, still not over the fact that you were on vacation and alone for the first time since you started dating two months ago.

"Hi, baby," he smiled, kissing your forehead. "What do you want to do today?"

"Anything, everything," you sighed, running your fingers through his hair. You were just excited to spend uninterrupted time with your boyfriend.

"How does breakfast sound?"

After finally getting out of bed and getting ready for the day, you were walking hand in hand to a small café down the street from where you were staying. You sat at a table outside and you thanked god that Carly and Erin had gotten David hooked on coffee since you both needed some type of caffeine. You snapped a photo of him with his coffee, having to stop yourself from posting it.

You were almost in the clear during your outing, until David was recognized while paying the bill.

"Oh my God! You're David Dobrik!" a voice shrieked form inside the café. "Can I get a picture? I'm a huge fan," she asked, and when David agreed, you feared your cover would be blown. You pushed your hat down to cover most of your face and looked down in case she knew who you were too.

"Thank you so much!" she exclaimed, giving David a hug before leaving.

Once the girl was far enough away, David came back outside and sat down with you.

"That was close," he sighed.

"Maybe it's a sign that we shouldn't leave the house," you giggled. "No one will find us if we hide out."

You two decided to lay out on the beach, leaving your phones inside, which turned out to be a bad idea. When you went back inside a couple hours later, your phones were blowing up.

"Shit," David muttered, scrolling through his texts. He had gotten sent pictures of you and him walking together and some of you at the café.

"Babe, this is not good," you groaned. You felt like this was your fault. You had just wanted a few days alone with him and now everyone knew you were on vacation together. You both didn’t want to face your friends, having no clue how they would react, and judging by the texts in the group chat, they weren't too pleased.

David was pacing around the kitchen as he talked on the phone with his publicist asking what, if anything, he should do. Your phone continued to ring but you didn't want to answer.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, when David rejoined you in the living room.

"Hey, no. This is not your fault, babe."

"I wanted to go on a getaway, so yes, it is."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. This easily could've happened in LA," he tried to reassure you.

"But people would expect to see us in LA, since that's where we live. The two of us being alone in North Carolina is unexpected and people are going to make a big deal about it and it's my fault," you rambled, David interrupting you by kissing you.

"Look, I love you, and yeah, it's partly your fault, but that doesn't matter. People know we're dating, how it happened doesn’t matter. We need to figure out what to do next."

"Okay, so what do you want to do?" you asked, looking him in the eye. This was a decision for David to make, since he was the one in the public eye.

"I think the only right thing to do is tell people that we're dating. Our friends are already pissed that we hid it from them for two months, we might as well just announce it to everyone," he shrugged, and you nodded in agreement.

David shared an post introducing you as his girlfriend across all of his social media platforms, and you didn’t feel anxious like you thought you would've.

"Sorry we had to announce it so soon," he frowned, feeling bad that you were now going to be the focus of most of his interviews and that you were going to be publicly thrown into the public eye.

"It's okay, Dave. I'm more worried for how our friends will react when we go home, though," you admitted, breaking eye contact and looking down.

"They already know and love you, so there's nothing to worry about, I promise."

You felt David's arms pull you into a tight hug and you let out a long exhale, relieved that he had handled the situation with such grace and ease.

For the rest of the trip, you were able to go out and about, not having to worry about hiding from fans that you might run into. But you were still dreading going back to LA and talking to your friends.

You had texted a few of the girls, giving them all of the details they were begging for, and none of them seemed upset that you didn't tell them ahead of time. They understood the difficulties of dating within the friend group and wanting privacy, although most people tried to keep their relationships a secret from David so he wouldn't exploit them on the vlog.

You and David landed in LA on Friday night with Natalie there to pick you up.

"I should've known something was up when you didn't bring Jason or me with you on your fake trip to New York," Natalie laughed when David opened the door to the passenger seat and slid in.

"Yeah, I'm surprised you and Jason didn't question it. Like I knew no one else would've, but I expected questions from you and Jase," David chuckled.

"Jason said he's known about you two for a month, or at least that's what he's telling everyone."

You racked your brain trying to think of how or when Jason could've found out, but couldn’t think of anything.

Back at David's, your friends were awaiting your arrival, with a list of questions they wanted answers to, starting with why you would pick David when you could've gone for literally any other guy in the entire world.

"I knew something was up when you two had to go to New York together on the same day for the exact same length of time," Carly insisted.

"I knew something was going on when no one else got an invite to New York, not even Jeff, and he's from there," Zane added.

"I knew something was up when David wanted to record the podcast on Monday night when usually he'd have me come out if he had to travel to record the podcast," Jason said.

“Yeah, I knew something was wrong when neither of you posted about going to or being in New York,” Erin piped in.

"Okay, okay, we get it. You all knew about us before we told you," David muttered, rolling his eyes. They had all come up with theories after they saw the pictures since no one said anything or suspected anything until the pictures were leaked.

“We’re happy for you guys,” Erin smiled, everyone else agreeing.

“Thank you,” you replied, giving her a hug.

The rest of the night was spent sitting on the couch with you finally being able to cuddle and be close to David without people asking any questions about it. It was such a relief to have your relationship accepted by your friends. It wasn’t that ever doubted them, you were just nervous telling anyone that you were dating him since you weren’t a YouTuber and didn’t want to take anything away from David and his future.

And while this wasn’t the way you had planned to tell everyone you were together, it didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was the fact that you two were confident enough in your relationship to tell the world, even if it had come a lot sooner than you anticipated.

437 notes · View notes

blkjackals · 5 years ago

Text

OK BC I KEEP TALKING ABT FIRST ROBOTICS COMPETITION HERE’S WHAT ITS ABOUT (under the cut tho ofc cuz its abt to get ranty w/ pics at the end)

FIRST is an international organization that runs Robotics Competitions for kids in grades K-12.

K-4 compete in FIRST Lego League JR, 4-8 compete in FIRST Lego League, 7-10 compete in FIRST Tech Challenge, and 9-12 compete in FIRST Robotics Competition.

I’ve been in the FIRST Robotics Competition for 3 years now, competing on team 5409 (a map of all teams can be found here) and next year i’ll be mentoring team 2702, as this was supposed to be my last year as a student.

Every year on the first saturday in January, FIRST HQ drops a full explanation of that year’s game. For the next 6 weeks (called Build Season), you design, build, wire, program, and market your robot. This all leads up to Competition season.

Competition season lasts 6-8 weeks. Weeks 1-6 are regional/district competitions, with weeks 7-8 being Districts and Worlds.

Within FRC there’s 11 Districts, consisting of Chesapeake, Michigan, Texas, Indiana, Israel, Mid-Atlantic, North Carolina, New England, Ontario, Pacific Northwest, and Peachtree.

If your team is in a District you compete in 2 District competitions (40~ teams per event), and depending on your rank within the district after you go onto district championships. Each district sends a few teams to Worlds depending on their rank after the district championships.

If you aren’t in a District, you compete at a few regional competitions, which have a larger pool of teams (60~) and the top 6 teams go on to worlds.

FRC teaches you how to work in a team, how to collaborate and share your ideas, how to behave in a professional setting, and gives you a family in the process.

I LOVE this competition because, despite being an arts student, i found passion in it. The strategy needed in matches is extremely intense, and the support system that is out there rocks. I’ve made so many friends all around my district, and it feels so amazing to be apart of it.

People say its like a cult and it is. Majority of people get involved and stick with it for a long time.

im gonna toss some pics in bc i love this comp so much

Discord server i’m in had a meetup at District Champs

my team back in 2019!!

me (w/ the red hair lol) and our 2019 bot that i drove

This is 2702 (the team i’m mentoring next year) and their 2019 bot

me & woodie flowers, may he rest in peace

#day rants #day talks abt bots #im srs i love this comp #this is rlly just me rambling and giving an odd explanation

14 notes · View notes

bigenderbefriender · 4 years ago

Text

It’s approaching midnight here in Oklahoma on November 2, 2020, and before election day begins in earnest, I wanted to write out a few of my thoughts. I don’t know how much analysis I’ll actually do; this is mostly a record of how I feel, how the world is, and how I perceive it. Maybe a year or two down the line, I’ll be able to look back on this and shore up some memories, though hopefully I won’t ever forget what I’ve seen over the past four years.

Let me start with this, then. No one knows what’s going to happen. The perennial discourse about the electoral college is in full swing, and as usual, Republicans are blocking it because they benefit massively from the rampant conservatism (racism) of rural states such as my own. All the news talks about these days is the election cycle and COVID; I can hardly blame them. It’s almost all I think about, too. That said, half of Oklahomans went without power this week due to a massive ice storm, including most of my social circle, and it didn’t even make a blip in the national news. Likewise, Hurricane Zeta tore a path through Louisiana then up the East Coast last week, and it only got a cursory mention, despite being the fifth such hurricane to make landfall in Louisiana this year. The destruction there is nigh incalculable.

Texas governor Greg Abbott has been in a campaign to suppress voters in urban areas in this election cycle, his most egregious success being to limit the number of polling places per county to one, meaning large cities that fall under one county must all vote at the same place. This will inevitably lead to a number of citizens being unable or unwilling to vote, predominantly in those large cities where lines will be several hours long, and the risk of COVID will be high. Texan Republicans have also tried to throw out drive-thru ballots on the order of 120,000 votes, but this was blocked by Andrew Hanon. The voter suppression is quite likely because for the first time in several elections, Texas is legitimately competitive this year. I don’t think it will flip to the Democratic Party, but if it does I would be quite happy.

Other states have also been engaging in voter suppression, but there are people working against it. Stacey Abrams, after her narrow defeat (1.4%) in the 2018 gubernatorial race in Georgia, has continued her commitment to ending voter suppression there, and she claims that she has done so quite successfully. I suppose that remains to be seen, but I am hopeful. Little news is coming out of places like North Carolina, though, and that’s scary, since voter suppression there is so prominent and so ugly. In addition, Trump has been calling on militias, whom I will not name so as to keep them away from this post, to enact stochastic violence against voters whom they believe will vote Democratic.

In truth, that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Since the summer, Trump has been questioning the legitimacy of mail-in ballots, certainly in an attempt to provide precedent for his contesting of the election results. If they go in his favor, I’m sure he’ll love whatever the election says, but much like with Hillary Clinton, it looks like he’ll lose the popular election. Experts are predicting a “blue shift” over the course of the election cycle. That is, Republicans by and large are ignoring the threats of the coronavirus, which means they’re much more likely to vote in person on November 3. This means it will appear that Trump has won the election on Novemeber 3, but as mail-in ballots get counted, the electorate will begin to sway towards Biden. I may make a prediction here, though it is a grim one. I believe that Trump will try to call the election on November 3 proper, and he will use his newfound influence on the Supreme Court (aka his nominee and now justice Amy Coney Barrett) to halt the count of mail-in ballots that might prove him wrong. Many people say our democracy is in crisis, but quite honestly, I think this is a natural conclusion to the way that politics have been going since basically the Clinton era.

What I mean by that is to say that Trump’s presidency has done an excellent job of exposing long-lasting structural issues in American society, and Democrats have made #resist into an aesthetic to win their re-elections rather than actually leveraging the power they do have. I’d say it must be hard, against someone who’s as much of a political opportunist as Sen Maj Ldr Mitch McConnell (R-KY), but the truth is that all of these people are perfectly content to campaign on decorum rather than on fixing any of the actual issues facing the US.

It’s not all bad; Biden has been pushed quite a bit to the left by the growing progressive wing of the Democratic Party, organized in part by the Justice Democrats and represented by Sen Bernie Sanders (Ind. VT), Rep Alexandria Ocasio Cortez (D NY), Rep Ilhan Omar (D MN), Rep Rashida Tlaib (D MI), and Rep Ayanna Pressley (D MA). The latter four are colloquially referred to as “The Squad,” and they fight alongside others for progressive policies out of the House of Representatives. I would hate to go through an entire post about my feelings on national politics without mentioning the few good things we do have going for us. In addition, voters have come out in record numbers this year. As of this morning NPR reported that four states have had more early voting than total voters in 2016. In a democracy, one of the major challenges is to stimulate citizen participation in government; citizens are certainly participating this year.

Also, this year has been a year that will be remembered for its social movements. The Black Lives Matter movement came back into full swing, and the role of the police is now a legitimate question in many people’s minds. Of course, this is a frustrating thing to talk about, too. The demands of Black Lives Matter as a movement are so simple, yet over and over again, police show that they are more dedicated to violence than to justice. In addition, white people across the country have shown that they are more dedicated to law and order than to making a country in which everyone can live. This seems odd to me, though I know that it is specifically racially motivated. It’s not like I’m just having this realization now; my grandparents are Party Republicans, and I couldn’t convince them to vote to kick Walmart out of their town, even when they know exactly how it’s screwed them. To ask them to empathize with a Black person, even a Black neighbor? Believe me, I’ve tried. Still, we did see (are seeing) a lot of good from the protests. Colorado basically ended qualified immunity, which means that police should be a lot more accountable for their actions in the future. We also saw several experiments in what a society could look like without policing. The Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone in Seattle was the most famous of these, though it fell apart in part due to its popularity. Others that did not have the spotlight on them did not fall apart so spectacularly (though I have to speculate that all of CHAZ’s sisters have been disbanded by now).

That said, there’s a lot to fear in the coming days. The only thing we know about this election is that we won’t know the result for days or even weeks after polling closes. Because of that, many fear that protests will break out across the country on election day. The protests themselves aren’t the bad thing, I think. What’s bad is that the protests will be the targets of white supremacist violence (if the protesters are pro-Biden) or the perpetrators thereof, especially now that Trump has condoned militia violence against citizens. Over the summer, Trump also used a secret police force (under the Department of Homeland Security, specifically Customs and Border Patrol) against protesters in Portland, Oregon to quell unrest. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work, since the protests were against police brutality. However, the system is now there for him to use, and CBP is only growing bigger by the day. If protests do break out in the weeks following the election, I have no doubt that CBP will be there throwing people into unmarked vans and jailing them without due process.

I have so much more to say. I haven’t even gotten into the border wall, or family separation, or the assassination of Iranian dignitaries, or attacks on abortion rights, or Mitch McConnell’s stalling of the Senate, or the individual stages of failure of the COVID-19 response and how I learned about them, or the use of said COVID-19 to grant ICE carte blanche to deport people without trial, or any of the myriad other political issues of which I’ve become aware over the past four years. I also haven’t even begun to write out my thoughts on my local politics or Oklahoma politics specifically (quite honestly, I think local politics will forever stay offline, seeing as though I’d really rather not give out too much identifying information here). But I think this post has gone on long enough. Perhaps I will write more on those other topics in the future. I am afraid for tomorrow, and I am afraid for the months and years to come. I do not wish to live in interesting times, but it seems I am cursed to do so. At least I can say I was a witness. It is now 12:40 AM, November 3, 2020. The election is in 6 hours, and I am scared.

#uspol #violence #political violence #police brutality #covid

2 notes · View notes

squirrels49 · 4 years ago

Text

What Fowl Can Be Known as a Hawk, But Isn't a Hawk in Any Way?

It was not the first moment that our kitty had brought a surprise back with her. It was not the first time she'd attracted in a live fowl. Maybe it had been she published it in the sack instead of the basement or livingroom (her standard locations to place her victim unfastened ). I presume what really surprised me that the most was the size of the bird that has been now flying in a panic around my bedroom.Over years, using just two female house cats who we let outdoors a few of hours per day, we have experienced our share of rabbits, mice along with other bark , and birds input our residence. Most of time they're still alive, fearful, but for the most part, unharmed. Cats that are satisfactorily fed do not hunt for meals, they hunt for fun, and thus they ordinarily don't eat the animals/birds they capture. They often bring them to the individuals as a present or to demonstrate that they'd caught something.Being a Healer, I understand the value of aiding those creatures and critters overcome their shock before discharging themas it is the jolt which often kills themnot any injury they may have sustained.So the chicken that was currently flying across the sack was just the modern chicken necessitating my attention.Unfortunately, which has been going for considered a significant issue. I was used to helping little sparrows that frequented our garden and the neighbor's bird feeders. This chicken was much bigger-in factthat he had been a predator . He was a hawk.I need to admit my close connections with hawks has been lacking. I feel the nearest I came into one was one had been at an tree eyeing a deceased bird close by. Still, the chicken proved to be much further away compared to main one who currently stood in my dresser looking like it would attack anything or anyone which moved.Normally I'd have let the chicken settle down a bit before approaching him, but it was hurt by my cat like I saw blood onto the ground and walls where the hawk had flown. This absolutely had been enough bloodstream to imply that waiting was not wise if I wanted him to survive.But there have been those talons. And there clearly is that sharp, pointed beak.And these very modest eyes were seeing each movement I made.I shut the bedroom door to contain his flight then grabbed a small blanket to throw over him. This functioned. The bird can barely fly. I donned leather gloves and sunglasses (for security ) subsequently lifted the package, careful to grip the ft. With my husband's assistance, I had been able to examine the bird without even any the damage to either of the us. He experienced only a small cut on his rear and one of his wings had been overlooking a couple larger feathers. Each wounds were bleeding.As I found no other wounds that were of immediate consideration, '' I gave the fowl that the homeopathic medication Aconitum napellus("Aconite") for the shock. Aconite operates great to relaxed shock in animals along with human beings. I have used it before on creatures and critters, also when responding to vehicle accidents.When the remedy had slid the bird, I washed the cuts afterward gave him that the homeopathic medication Gunpowder to stem infections. I bandaged his wing it wouldn't proceed for transport to the Wildlife Sanctuary. For rehab, they'd execute a excellent job.But Al As, these were shut, or so the hawk was attracted house and put from the spare rest room because of the night-it was quiet and there was nothing the hawk could damage himself should he drift all about. He looked a ton better than he'd had before he had been awarded the homeopathics.The subsequent early morning , the hen was doing great, however that I still wasn't certain about the wing. I removed the bandage from his wing, lifted up him and enabled him to fly-he didn't do so good-so I took him into the Sanctuary for more treatment. The hawk was possibly the size of my kitty and that I wondered just how she'd gotten the jump on him. Marin (my kitty ) had no harms, that had been surprising since the hawk was a predator who would prey . Maybe, becoming that the hawk was not small, he was not a threat to Marin.The hawk was published from your Wildlife Sanctuary that a few days later. The rehabilitation helper had been amazed the bird had not arrived for the Sanctuary in jolt, and failed to develop an infection and was able to become released so fast. I wasn't amazed, however, due to the fact I understood the healing skills of homeopathy.I believed the stories that the hawk would tell to other hawks, even joked only just a bit believing the hen could probably come up with a very dangerous and exciting story, telling of this great struggle which had hurt him. Had he told the truth-that he was captured by the cat-he would have already been teased for quite a while.The initial issue we did our trip was supposed to check to our hotel which was that the Barrier Station re sort at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. On our holiday bundle we've got a 3 days and 2 night live, they gave us some dinner certificates to Mulligan's restaurant and pub and Jolly Rodgers. Also a excellent surprise in our vacation package had been 2 tickets to a Musical Show.After checking in we moved right into the hotel to examine it empty the large quantity of luggage we had brought us. The room was we predicted. Even though there were only 2 of us they gave us a two bed room accommodation. This was the bomb because we had our own toilet. The master bedroom had a huge Jacuzzi inside (which we use every night) along with also a king size bed together with a huge balcony. The other bedroom needed to bedrooms and your bathroom. They both had television's and were very well decorated. Along side a huge living space, dining room and kitchen that they also had a washer and dryer. Had we know this we'd have brought much less clothing?After unpacking we moved into the welcome center and assessed all those tasks that these were presenting. They had special to ground meals, games and a variety of lessons, along side several traveling excursions. Perhaps not merely did they all will have outside pools however they also had just one of the largest indoor grills that I have ever seen. And of course a weight room with all types of exercise equipment and also in door and outdoor hot tubes. Of course, when that was not enough they had a superb character walk trail and a location for runners.After exploring the resort we chose to simply take benefit of one of those dinner certificates we had been given and also went on Mulligan's for lunch. We're impressed by the number and high quality of the food and service we received. They'd a deck which moved to the surface of the cafe s roof with tables up there and also you could take pleasure in the sea view as you dined. I do feel just a modest sorry for its waters since they needed to go upward and down about half staircase all day long.When we ended dinner we continued with our vacation going to the shore where we did just a small sunning and tried some small fishing in the fishing pier that had been a few miles from our resort. Not bringing some fishing gear together were surprised that they'd everything you might want to go fishing. It simply cost us about 40.00 for all the apparatus and bait you wanted and now being outside to the pier you did not need to worry about getting eaten alive from almost any critters which might possibly be wondering all around on the island. We also toured about thirty kilometers of the island also found many great places to eat and shop. One of my favorite areas in Kitty Hawk to eat would be Jimmy's Sea Food Buffet. They offer an early bird special at which you can win $100.00 in funds as well as to get the first hour they give you lobster. You really don't even miss the lobster though, because with every different kind of seafood you may think of they possess ten different sorts of crab legs plus you can eat everything you want. Unfortunately we didn't get to eat there this time round because of the a number of other locations we never tried while there on vacation.However we did get to see one of the better musicals that I have ever gone . It was mixed with oldies and classical tunes together with some humor. The entire cast was superb. It lasted about two hours was so interesting that it felt which we're only there for half an hour. They change shows frequently so if you visit into the outside banks regularly you may get to see distinctive reveals. On Wednesdays that they offer you a magical show for those magical buffs in the same construction. So the next time you go there on a break please put that on you are todolist because you won't be sorry when planning on taking my own advice.One issue I did not plan moment doing our vacation was a round of golf and I am sorry I didn't because there weren't several really nice cheap golf courses near. I'm not sure but some one told us there were 12 in the area. Sounds like a golfer's paradise to me personally and together with this most golf courses I think that you need to plan to stay per week instead of just a few days. We did not go into any one of this course's this time round whilst the temptations would have already gone to great but I am certain that with many that they might never have been on to crowded.Well the bottom point for the full article is that it was really so relaxing and so gratifying our next vacation will likely be in the outside banks next year plus people also plan on taking a couple mini holidays or long weekends because a few call it there on a normal basis. And certainly will always be towards the top of my record for vacations to get quite a while for you to come.Because a few varieties of hawk some times kill game critters, the full class continues to be contested. You can find those, and they are several, who fail to observe that birds of prey fill out an important part in the amazing scheme of character. Does the hunter who shoots down the hawk at each and every prospect, because some species occasionally captures what he is very happy to take into account his special property, ever cease to request exactly what caused the quail along with different non-migratory match critters to reach the powers of swift flight that alone create sure they are desired as things of sport?It may be that the bird of prey, pursuing one opposite since the days of these invention, which has evolved not only its own strength of wing, but but in addition that of its quarry. And just as certainly as it is accurate, therefore indeed will that electricity be lost in the event the contributing cause be removed. The do do, a pigeon, found himself over the island of Mauritius in which enemies were unknown. He yielded to gluttony and in action, designed a corpulence that uttered traveling, and was eaten out of the face of the planet in a limited while right following his discovery by gentleman. His relative, the rock dove, who'd to flee the chasing hawk or perish, created but retains a power of wing which is famous around the world.To find additional details on this please dig this. At the same manner some other species, notably a number of the rails, by adopting a carefree lifetime, have forfeited flightand now face extermination if some active enemy invades their haunts. The most hawks, which we have been now , have made our grouse and quail what they are. Close students of the area additionally recognize that the amazing significance of hawks from removing game animals suffering from infectious diseases. Just a small thought should convince people of the fallacy of this debate the diminishing ranks of our game critters are the consequence of depredation by hawks, an idea that's become the foundation of most of the prejudice directed toward them. In case this were well founded then the decimation of the hunters would have caused a gain in match birds.In real truth the two hawks and match possess diminished concurrently, and also from exactly the very same primary bring about. For example of the destruction of harmless hawks under mere sensing, there can be cited an item only published in the report of advancement within an evaluation of methods for increasing quail. Up to thirty marsh hawks had been frequenting roosting regions from the match addresses, and so approximately 1 / 2 of these were taken. Subsequently over one million of the castings of the birds have been analyzed, each signifying dinner with the result that the stays of 4 quail had been observed, whereas a lot more than 2 hundred dishes had comprised one or even cotton rats, which eat the eggs of the quail. Really the announcement is highlighted that the majority of the opponents of those quail are the destroyers of its foes.The nighttime bird that is described being a Frequent Nighthawk is not a hawk in any way, but also a Nightjar. The title derives from the fact that the man makes a exact loud'jarring' call. All these 10" jay-sized birds have plumage that is indeed well camouflaged it renders them almost undetectable once they are nesting around the ground. They like to use gravel on which to rest and also build their nests. Nightjars additionally utilize dry grass and leaf litter, which hides their brown and gray mottled feather coloring perfectly.Nature also has given the nightjars' eggs with camouflage by creating grayish brown scrawling marks all around the off-white egg-shells. Mama nighthawk incubates the eggs all by herself. Preventing the nest emptied at the early day and afternoon, the feminine nightjar ventures outside to collect pests on that to feed, whilst her male counter part watches from a position never far away. He will finely lure off any prospective predators. Surprisingly, regardless of the typical nighthawk's custom of nesting on the ground, they are remarkably long-lived. The normal life span for a nightjar is 5 years, which is quite a while in bird years.After 18 times have passed, and the younger nightjars hatch. Now they're totally coated with fluffy down feathers. This really can be when the male measures in to help feed the younger hatchlings. Flying pests comprise their whole diet and are pre digested and then regurgitated with their own ma ma and papa.If the infants are jeopardized by almost some other predator, including individuals, ma-ma nighthawk pulls a nifty trick out of her bag and acts like she was hurt. She is good at this action which the predator is tempted to move off out of her nestlings since she clumsily blows off a brief distance away. After the intruder was taken enough by the nest, ma-ma nighthawk flies off usually. Nightjars are all about foraging at dusk, twilight and in moon light. Additionally they hunt as darkness turns to dawn. Their highly sensitive crimson reddish eyes tend not to require plenty of light as a way to locate their prey. In fact, too much light can blind them into your own foodstuff. In case the current weather is wet or snowy, nighthawks revert to a country of torpor to reserve their power. When problems are favorable to good searching, they take to the skies all over again. Nighthawks forage only on the wing. Once they restthey lay length wise across a branch or right on a lawn. Their feet are so tiny and their legs really long as to be not quite ineffective to them.The telephone of a nightjar can be a high-pitched'spee-spee-spee' sound that I have heard often when I am out throughout bliss. During a night of trying to find insects like moths and mosquitoes, even a nighthawk can rid us of thousands of pests. Their mouths are deceptively large and open very wide while they scoop the air for all types of traveling bugs. As they want more open spaces near forests in which insects are plentiful, nightjars are one of the very first ever to take advantage of a freshly burnt forest region. These areas afford a very good background due to their bright colors, thus helping them combine in to that environment additional easily.The decline of common nighthawks has been brought about partly with using pesticides, deficiency of habitat in which to hunt, and also the deficiency of their favorite nesting sites. That are the older style apartment lava roof. The other exact obvious rationale is that their habit of earth nesting and resting makes them much more at risk of predators such as owls, falcons and hawks.When their instinct tells them to go for warmer climes at South America, they shape flocks at times numbering in the tens of thousands Their migratory travel starts in mid July as the nightjars take the own time to stop and eat on the way. If they spot a river or marshland about sunsetthey are going to pause to eat their fill and re-energize, subsequently continue their very lengthy trek southward. Nighthawks return to the united states and Canada around February with the very same leisurely method.Common nighthawks also have been referred to as'bull bats' because of their nightly . However, they don't use echo location as snakes do to find prey. Nightjars have likewise obtained the strange name of'goatsuckers'. At some point it had been mistakenly thought they made their way into barns at night time to sneak the milk out of goats, but this is not true.There are just six species of us Nightjars: Eastern Whippoorwill,'' Mexican Whippoorwill, Chuck-Will's-Widow, Pauraque ('pa-RAW-kee') and Buff-collared Nightjar. All of these species are on the reduction. It isn't probable that you may understand a nighthawk because of these nighttime flights along with camouflage, form fact which they can stay absolutely still whenever approached. They will only fly when the prospective predator has too close for comfort. But in case you need to ever see one of these birds, consider yourself quite blessed indeed!Connie Smith could be the proud operator and director of Grandma Pearl's Backporch, LLC, and the professional writer of many online content about effortless and one of a kind methods by which you can cause the greatest bird-friendly lands to enable wild birds thrive and thrive. Understand just how to produce fun and secure backyard habitats for wild creatures with their preferred crops and foods, even whilst adding shade, odor and beauty to your landscape. Uncover simple how-to projects for producing your very own one of a kind bird feedersand find out how easy it's to entice various birds into your gardens and lawn. Visit today!

#lethargic wasps in house

1 note · View note