#my shoes are already scuffed despite having only worn then for 2 days

[dakrapatops]

sometimes it seems like all i do is break things and then lose the stuff i havent broken

[maybe-your-left]

BITCH I AM DEMANDING A FLUFFY PART TWO TO KYLO FORGETTING OUR DATE OKAY?!

I WANT SWEET AND NASTY MAKEUP SEX

HAHAHHA YESSSSS. here is part one of Kylo forgetting our anniversary.

“Hey.”

You sighed into the phone, slumped on the cool leather couch. The TV blaring before you, but you didn’t listen to what was on. It had been two weeks since you kicked Kylo out, the only communication shared were clipped texts and stale ‘Hi’s’ and ‘Byes’ when he needed to pick up clean clothes.

“Hi.”

Kylo took in a slow breath, you could practically feel the air hit your face. So close, yet so far, “Are you gonna be home today?”

“Yup.”

“Cool, I’ll be there at 12 during lunch. I have some shit to grab.”

You bit back sniffling, “Okay,” your voice cracked. “I’ll be here.”

———

You scrolled through your emails, waiting at the kitchen counter for him to show up. You'd applied for some jobs a few days ago if this was really the end of you two. You needed a job, there was no way you could afford living in the penthouse and at some point, Kylo would want it back.

It was in his name anyway, the only thing you really owned without his help was your laptop.

Fingers crossed you'd find something, you haven't worked in almost five years. You didn't need to with Kylo, and he urged you to not work. He wanted to take care of you, provide for you, help you in any way he could. But now, you were left high and dry, not even a single bank account in your name.

You swallowed back another round of tears, no.

No more tears, you'd get through this. You had family who would help, friends that supported you and wanted you to be happy. Even his mom, not that you'd stoop that low, was willing to help you.

It would be better to just cut all ties to him since there was a slim chance he would want to be back together.

You still weren't sure, you missed him. Terribly, barely sleeping because his presence was gone. Jumping towards your phone whenever it rang, hoping it was him on the other side calling to make it up to you.

But the man was stubborn, angry that you kicked him out.

Claiming that his accusations were valid, which wounded you further.

A light knock on the door drew you away from your wallowing, you took a shaky breath before whispering a faint, "it's open."

Kylo walked in slowly, dressed in his work clothes. A button-up, white, with his suit jacket and tight dress pants. His hair was getting longer, the harsh lighting of the kitchen showed a sheen of grease coating it.

And the bags, the bags under his eyes were darker than normal.

A part of you was smug over his appearance.

But the rest of you ached, fighting against your baser instinct to run towards him. So he could take you in his arms while you bathed him in kisses, mourning over the time spent apart.

"Hello," he nodded stiffly towards you. Not making eye contact as he shut the door. Kylo fiddled with the strap on his shoulder, his duffel bag hanging limp. Empty, ready to stuff more things inside before he ran away to whatever place he was staying.

"Hey," you croaked, eyes flitting back to your laptop. Biting your lip as you read through rejection after rejection, no one wanted you. The gaps in your resume were too long, your diploma meant nothing since you had zero experience.

Kylo's shoes scuffed the floor, sniffing loudly before he looked at you.

"I was going to grab some more things," he glanced towards the staircase, "All my stuff is at the dry cleaners right now, I've worn these pants two days in a row."

"That sucks."

He hummed, "Okay," backing away from you slowly. You watched him walk towards the stairs, back tense and straight. His hands were tucked into his pockets, something he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable.

You used to make him comfortable.

Now you just agitated him, even though it wasn't your fault you two were in this mess.

You stayed quiet as he rummaged around upstairs. Doors opening and closing, drawers slamming shut, you briefly heard swearing but you couldn't make it out. You hadn't thrown his stuff away, keeping everything organized. Right down to the hair products that he had left.

Color-coded and alphabetical by the sink.

His footsteps echoed to a stop, maybe he was considering kicking you out...

"Have you seen my black sweater?"

You stilled, his black sweater... "Nope."

A huff in annoyance, "The one that has the hole in the front, from when it got caught while we were in Niagra? It's not in the closet."

That's because I hid it, you thought. You'd been sleeping in it for the past week, it smelled like him and enveloped you like his arms used to. No way you were giving it back, call it a sacrifice of your relationship.

You listened to his slow descent to the kitchen, duffle now stuffed with clothes. He eyed you suspiciously, rolling his tongue along the inside of his cheek. Coming dangerously close to your seat, he angled himself behind you. A little to the left, but enough for him to spy on your computer screen.

"You're applying for jobs?"

You slapped your laptop shut, he didn't need to snoop.

"None of your business, Kylo."

He shrugged, looking up at the ceiling as he replied, "Might be good for you, to get out of the house."

"Mhm."

"You'll want to apply to multiple places," he stepped around you, opening the fridge for a brief glance inside. Spying one of his protein shakes that you hadn't thrown out, wasn't expired yet. Kylo cracked it open and took a small sip, "You won't be able to afford this place with entry-level salaries."

"Yes," you snapped at him, "I know that."

"Just trying to help, (Y/N)."

You climbed off your stool, moving away from him to curl on the couch. Already on the verge of tears, "You aren't helping, you're just being rude."

"Well, it's rude of you to steal my shit when we aren't together anymore."

That made the waterworks start, muffling your sniffles with your fluffy blanket. You tucked yourself away, desperate to disappear. Maybe when you woke up, everything would be back to normal, or you could wake up seven years earlier to avoid ever meeting him. Save yourself from the heartache that was tearing you apart from seam to seam.

You listened to the echo as he walked towards you. Huffing when he saw your shivering form, "I don't know why you're crying. I haven't been staying here for two weeks, we clearly aren't together."

"Whatever, Kylo," you whispered, voice breaking as you took in a wet breath, "Can you just leave?"

"Sure."

------

"I can't afford to stay there mom," you whimpered into the phone, you were stalling in your car. Parked in the garage of the apartment, you had been to an interview. Realizing the pitiful reality of your life, you had already begun to sell your designer clothes. Gucci purses, red bottoms, Tiffany earrings, Cartier bracelets, you name it. Anything that could help you create a bank account was sold off.

"Have you talked to him at all? Kylo wouldn't leave you high and dry, if anything he would pay for you to get an apartment."

"I don't want his help," you hissed.

A pause, "It would be humiliating to ask, I know he's expecting it. After the talk about jobs, he's just been waiting for me to cave and sacrifice my dignity."

"I'm just saying it wouldn't hurt to talk with him, I know you both have been avoiding it after the fight. It could bring you both some closure-or better yet-get you guys back together so I can get some grandbabies."

"Goodbye, mom."

You huffed as you hung up, slamming your head back into your headrest. Maybe you could sell the car, people would pay top dollar for a gold Porsche. But the title was in Kylo's name, birthday present, any money you'd earn would belong to him.

You pulled up your text thread, the last messages sent were from three days ago. He left you on read, you texted him goodnight after a few stale messages about your day and when he could come and move some furniture out. Kylo had gotten an apartment on the upper east side, right by his office. You checked the old Zillow listing, it was huge and ridiculously expensive.

Enough room for him and a new girlfriend, you were certain he was already fucking someone else. With how cruel he was with you, not even trying to make amends. Probably his secretary, she was always a slut. Showing off her tits to him, even when you came to visit. Kylo probably bent her over his desk the day after he left, just because he could.

You swallowed your pride, it was now or never.

Kylo, I think we need to talk.

Send.

Let's see how long it... oh?

What happened, I'm at work right now.

Quick, maybe he got the notification on his laptop.

Could I swing by the office?

Right now?

Yeah.

Typing...

I have a shareholder meeting at 2, make it quick.

You sped towards his work, determined to get there before he changed his mind and banned you from coming. You were shocked he even agreed, maybe he was having a rare good day.

Or forgot that you two were broken up.

After parking, you jogged into the building. No need to say hi to anyone, it was embarrassing enough to be the ex-girlfriend visiting. At least you were dressed up, people wouldn't think you were in the poor house, yet.

You smiled coldly at his secretary, not bothering to tell her what you were here for. Despite her stuttering about him having a meeting at 2, she was totally fucking him. There's no way she wasn't, a man like him can barely go a day without sticking his dick in something.

Whipping open the door, you were met with the uncomfortable silence that blanketed his office. Curtains were drawn, lights on the dimmest setting, the only noises were the door creaking and his fingers typing.

Like he was punishing the words, Kylo was good at breaking keyboards with his aggressive emailing.

You cleared your throat, watching as his eyes briefly flickered towards you before moving back to the screen. Okay, you walked slowly towards his desk. Pulling out a chair as quietly as possible, the leather squeaking when you sat.

Kylo let out a long sigh, leaning away from his screen. "What is it you want to talk about?"

With a harsh swallow, you fiddled with the hem of your skirt. Anything to avoid his penetrating gaze, "I just wanted to talk about, you know."

He blinked, face blank, "Use your words, please. I don't have time to fuck around, I have a business to run."

"I-I-I"

"Spit.it.Out."

"How come you never apologized?"

Silence.

Kylo's jaw clenched and unclenched, leaning back in his chair slowly. Staring directly at you, "This conversation?"

"Yes, I need to know."

"What good is it doing us now?"

"I don't know I just-"

"What are you hoping to gain from this?"

"Kylo-"

He huffed loudly, "I don't have to answer you anymore, we aren't together."

You slammed a fist on his desk, rattling a few pieces he had decorating it. Standing on your wobbling legs, "Listen to me, you can be an asshole all you fucking want but I deserve answers."

Kylo narrowed his eyes, standing slowly before you. His form towering, making you feel even smaller than you already felt. Crawling to his office for closure, and instead, he wanted to argue with you about the necessity of the conversation.

You watched his palms lay flat on the polished wood, crinkling papers he had strewn about.

"If you're here for money, just fucking say it."

"I am not here for-"

Now it was his turn to slam the desk, "Bullshit! You're here to fucking grovel because you don't know how to take care of yourself. Can't even get a second-rate job!"

"You're the one who insisted on taking care of me!"

"So you think it's okay to demand money when we aren't together? Selling off all the shit I bought you to pay the power bills?"

You gaped at him, "I would never."

"Shut up," Kylo spat, leaning further across to be nose to nose, "You forget that I have your email linked to my laptop. I can see every pathetic message about pawning what I worked for. What I provided you, fucking ungrateful."

"How dare you sneak through my email!?"

"It's not sneaking if I have the passwords, darling."

"You can't fucking do that," you pushed away, arms folded while you glanced around the room. All your pictures were gone, more proof that showed he was erasing your existence, "At least I'm not already fucking someone..."

"Excuse me?"

You spoke over your shoulder, "You heard me."

"Are you seriously accusing me of that," Kylo scoffed, "When that's what got us into this mess in the first place?"

You shrugged, "How long have you been fucking her, did you march to her place after I kicked you out?"

"(Y/N)."

"I'm a big girl, I can take it. Just tell me the truth, because there's no way you'd just abandon me if there wasn't someone else."

"(Y/N)."

You spun on your heel, snarling with a finger in his face, "How many women have you replaced me with? Huh? Or is it just your slut of a secretary-"

Kylo flipped his desk, everything crashing to the floor. You screamed as he began to throw items to the walls, tear books off the shelves, kicking his chairs to the ground. Anything he could get his hands on he attempted to tear apart.

"Enough!"

Heavy breaths.

"I'm not fucking anyone else! Are you fucking serious? All I've fucking done is work! Trying to just fucking move on but nooo," he faced you now, cheeks red and puffing. A few tracks of tears streaking towards his jaw, "You-you just have to be right, and have to be the victim of all this when it's both our fucking fault!"

Kylo paced away from you, running his fingers through his hair before crouching down to the floor. Cradling his face in his hands while he took in shaky breaths, "I fucking missed you, so much. It's all I thought about, but every fucking time I came back you ignored me."

"Kylo-"

"No, you fucking iced me out. I could barely speak to you and I wasn't going to do anything over text."

You succumbed to your tears, there was no way to hold them. Choking as you wiped away the floods, "I-I didn't m-mean to, you weren't talking to me Kylo. How was I supposed to r-react?"

Now he was crying, hiccuping in an attempt to steady his breathing and push through it like he always had. But he couldn't stop the tremor in his voice, "You could've told me you loved me or forgave me. Anything would've been better than this."

"Why do I have to be the one to apologize, I'm not the one who forgot our day and manhandled me in the tub! You were drunk, rude, and horrible to me, I deserved an apology."

"I know," he sniffed, "I tried to-the first few times I came back for clothes. But you hid from me."

You nodded slowly, pacing your way towards him. Unsure of how he'd react to you touching him, but you needed to be closer. You shuffled to his side, sliding your back against the gray wall to the floor.

"We've never been good at apologizing."

Kylo sat on the floor, mirroring you against the wall, "At least before, you didn't kick me out. Force me to crash on a couch, you know I don't fit on couches."

You chuckled softly, not wanting to smile at the visual.

"That's why our couch was custom," he laughed too, dull and humorless, "Because I kept sliding off."

"Yup."

Both of you swallowed, throats clicking in unison. Kylo shuffled in a more comfortable position, looking out at the clouded sky that peeked through the shades.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry."

A breath, "I never meant to miss our day, and I thought you were finished with me. I should've just spoken to you instead of drink, but that doesn't mean much now."

You hummed, "Thank you."

"I can write you a check," he sighed, "So you can get another place and still keep whatever's left of your collections."

"You don't-"

"I know I don't."

Kylo wrote you a check for half a million dollars, not looking at you when he ripped it from his checkbook. He mumbled about the bank may be needing to call him to confirm it, just have them call my office number.

Sending you off without another word.

------

Your new apartment was cute, small, perfect for you.

Light and airy, none of the fixtures were black or red. Hues of pink, coral, green, and blue danced around the rooms. Your couch was velvet, just because you wanted it to be. With an abundance of pillows and candles on every surface, you could fit them onto.

Your bed was a four-poster with a dreamy white canopy, soft and cloudlike bedding scrunched up from however you left them. No one was running around frantic to make the bed, or straighten the blinds, or draw the curtains, it was just yours.

The check was cashed with little fuss, you tried not to cry about it. You dropped off the old house keys at Kylos office, along with your car keys, there was no need to keep the Porsche. You weren't living that life anymore, you could buy your own car now! And it would be yours, it was too hard to drive the gift everywhere.

Kylo told you to keep the car when he found the keys, but you ignored his messages. He wouldn’t understand why you wouldn’t keep it, but that was his problem.

You sighed into your couch, looking at the TV nestled next to the bay window. Imagining where you could squish more houseplants… you already had an abundance but it wouldn’t hurt.

Your phone began to vibrate on the coffee table, startling you as you scrambled towards it. Oh, it was Kylo, odd.

“Hey?”

“Hey.”

“Uh,” you stood from the floor, scratching your cheek as you walked. “What’s up?”

He cleared his throat, “I saw you got a place, wanted to drop off a housewarming gift.”

Your face scrunched, balancing the phone between your face and shoulder. Popping a potato chip in your mouth, “Why would you do that?”

A sigh, “Can you just buzz me in? I brought wine…”

“Whatever.”

Kylo came in with a tight smile, dressed in some black joggers and a gray t-shirt. He looked like he just rolled out of bed, not his typical look on a weekday. He held up a brown paper bag, Whole Foods on the label.

"You went to Whole Foods?" you raised a concerned brow.

"Nope," he set the bag on your kitchen table, eying the plants and crystals that littered your living room. A few magazines were strewn around on the surface, "I had my secretary do it."

You glared at him, which he noticed before shaking his head rapidly, "New secretary-not the old one. His name is Brady, he's very nice."

Kylo stood with his hands in his pockets, glancing in every direction as you approached the bag. Humming when you began pulling out the goodies he had, as promised there was a bottle of wine. Your favorite, along with a set of glasses.

A clear purple tinge, almost vintage looking. Some of your favorite fruit, he blushed when you held them up to his eyes. Mumbling how you never had enough of them in the past, and it was their season.

Now you were blushing, finding some red velvet cupcakes. Packaged beautifully, and a small vase in the shape of a kitty. You placed it on the table, looking at it over and over. Biting your lip as you waited for something to happen.

"I like your place," Kylo croaked out, "It's very bright."

You chuckled, "You're just used to your eyes straining from all the red and black decor."

He hummed, walking down your hallway. Glancing indoors that were left open until he made it to your bedroom. You heard him groan when he saw the white sheets and canopy, Kylo whistled for you.

Obediently, you pranced towards him, taken aback when he was sprawled on your mattress. Facedown with his face in your pillow, groaning like he was trying to wake up from a good dream.

"I fucking forgot how good you smelled," he moaned out, looking over at you lazily, "What would I have to do to get you to make out with me in here?"

------

LOL, this was long, but I'll do a part three if you would enjoy the rest of their reunion.

TAGGING: @finn-ray-nal-beads​​​ @onlykyloscenes​​​ @candycanes19​​​ @historyandfandoms50​​​ @caelum-phyriina-vermillon​​​ @ghoulian13​​​ @mrs-kylo-ren​​​ @millenialcatlady​​​​ @relationshipwithmybed​​ @dancingmicrobes​​​ @wayward-rose​​​ @contesa-lui-alucard​​​ @daydreamsofren​​​ @insufferablelust​​​ @ohdamnadamm​​​ @mariesackler​​​ @caillea​​ @safarigirlsp​​ @jalexunderthestars​​​ @shesakillerkween​​​ @glassythoughts​​ @zimmermansbrat​​ @not-the-teen-witch​​ @jynzandtonic​ @roanniom​ @celestiasin @glassbxttles @cornmousequeen @driversmutbucket @blowthatpieceofjunk

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[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Goodnight, Aaron (Aaron Hotchner x Reader) Chapter 3

Summary: Day 2 of the trial, a Sunday where Jack is allowed to choose his own adventure with Sebastian along for the ride.

AN: I hope you are all taking care of yourselves <3 and that tomorrow is kind to you.

Tagging: @sunlight-moonrise, @clean-bands-dirty-stories, @genevievedarcygranger, and @davidrossi-ismydad

Chapter 2 // Masterlist // AO3 Link // Chapter 4

“Morning, Jack,” Sebastian greeted the soporific Jack Hotchner as he entered the kitchen. Jack mumbled back and climbed into his place at the table. Sebastian set the place, poured his cereal, got his juice out as well, before joining him in breakfast.

They ate in quietude, that is until Sebastian’s phone buzzed with a text.

Once he’d read it, he held the phone out to Jack across the table, “Hey, do you wanna talk to your Dad? He’s free to call you quick if you want.”

A bolt of energy shot through Jack and he clutched the phone tightly.

There was Sebastian’s watchful eye remaining on Jack while he was clearing up the dirty dishes. Jack knuckled one of his eyes every now and again, but there was no doubt that he was beyond excited to speak to Hotch. His legs swung under the table.

“I love you, Daddy,” Jack said before he passed the phone back over, but Hotch had already hung up. Pocketing it, Sebastian finished up his breakfast with Jack officially cheered up – for now at least.

“I was thinking we could go out somewhere, treat ourselves.”

“The zoo!” Jack crowed immediately

“The zoo?”

“I haven’t been for ages and ages!”

“Well, I shall see if that’s possible while you go brush your teeth.”

Completely unplanned, Jack was dressed in a green polo that matched Sebastian’s shirt. Not the pattern but they were the exact same shade.

“My mum used to dress me and my sister up in similar outfits when we were kids,” Sebastian said as he was tying up his laces.

“Sometimes, Henry and me wear the same things,” Jack replied, double knotting his shoes up. A wise move.

“Who’s Henry?”

“My friend, his Mommy works with Daddy.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

The drive over had a much more confident sing-a-long. Sebastian played the same CD (but just the songs that Jack liked) and Jack was starting to pick up on some of the lyrics. Or at least what they sounded like. He was currently favouring that of Sara Bareilles. So much so that, after they circled the car park of the zoo and found a space, they finished the song before turning the engine off

As they were lining up to buy the tickets, Sebastian bent over and whispered to Jack, “I know you’d much rather have your dad here instead of me.”

“I don’t mind you,” was the reply, and a shrug to boot.

“I don’t mind you either, kid.”

And the second they entered the park, map in hand, Jack was grabbing at Sebastian, pulling him along, “Come on, I wanna see the elephants!”

The pair did pause to glance in the direction of the other animals, give them their moment of glory. But their focus and their hearts were set on finding the biggest land mammal, past the bug house and the birds, along to where the wider paddocks were situated.

Across a wooden bridge, they finally landed at the edge of a wooden barrier, about five feet from a ha-ha wall that wrapped around the elephants’ land. Jack stood on his tiptoes, his chin on the wooden slat.

Already knowing the answer to his questions, Sebastian said, “Can you see alright? Or do you wanna go on my shoulders?”

Jack fidgeted, scuffing his shoes on the dirt path, “Yes please.”

And he raised his arms over his head. Sebastian ducked down and lifted Jack over his head with some difficulty. He didn’t tell Jack that though.

“Now, don’t go farting on me, young man,” He patted Jack’s leg.

“Thank you, Seb.”

From his elevated position, Jack cheered up. He made sure not to hit Sebastian when his legs stretched out in excitement at the baby elephant trotting about the enclosure. He waved to the baby elephant who waved their trunk clumsily back at the crowds, eliciting a series of “awws”.

“Baby elephants stay with their mothers for their whole life,” Sebastian read off the plaque, “And these ones are from India. That’s where my mum’s from!”

“Is that why you sound like that?”

“Like what?”

“All funny,” and Jack flapped his hand about.

“Nah, that’s my dad’s fault. From the exotic land of Bolton.”

“Is there any animals from there here?”

“Probably not, bud.”

“That one’s the Mommy,” Jack pointed out the elephant the wee baby was now showing off to. He laughed loudly when another baby elephant submerged its whole head into the artificial watering hole for a drink, “It’s still learning!”

A gentle meander took them all the way back to the café, once again ignoring the other animals. They were thinking with their stomach.

Upon arriving at their destination, Jack went for the classic fish, chips, and peas. Sebastian had made a New Year’s resolution to not order something just to get the chips on the side, so he went for the lasagne and broccoli.

“I used to call them ‘baby trees’, made me feel like a giant.”

“What about peas?” Jack scooped several of the vegetable up onto his fork.

“They’re boulders, the kind that roll all the way down mashed potato mountains.”

“I don’t have any mashed potatoes though.”

“Maybe next time. Eat your boulders.”

Third time lucky, the other animals were given Jack’s attention. His second favourite after the elephants? The meerkats. There was a bubble at the centre with a tunnel underneath the desert-like paddock that he could go into and poke his head up. He waved and shouted (albeit muffled by the thick glass) at Sebastian, who waved back and took some photos. Back around by Sebastian’s side of the wall, Jack would hold the meerkats’ attention with a clementine segment pinched in his finger and lure them around the wall’s edge. Then he would eat the fruit.

Sebastian preferred the otters, slipping and sliding down the stream. His laugh trilled with the kids that watched the otters cawing at each other. Chattering between their little whines, they wriggled around in the pool.

Just as Jack was adding to his birthday list every other item in the gift shop. Sebastian’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

About to fly back to Virginia, will be in around nine.

All good our end, hope it’s good with yours too

And Sebastian sent his reply with the photo of Jack hypnotising the meerkats with the promise of citrus fruit.

Jack was very clearly worn out from the day but still had enough energy to tap his toes along during the drive back. The news that Hotch would be home that evening was what got Jack through until dinner time. Sat on the countertop, he watched TV placidly, while Sebastian got on with the tuna pasta. He did get to pour the sweetcorn in, a proper little chef.

“Thoughts?” Sebastian asked when Jack chewed through half his plate, apparently without breathing.

“It’s nice,” Jack said, his mouth half full, “I like the chips.”

The crushed salted crisps sprinkled on top were just a bonus that Sebastian’s dad had introduced to the world. His best invention by far, besides his two kids of course. And Jack ate it all up with gusto.

As the dishwasher was being loaded, out of nowhere, the front door unlocked and not even halfway open before Jack was up on his feet and shouting, “Daddy!”

He sprinted full force and was caught in his father’s arms just as Hotch stepped into the flat. Hotch, despite seeming very worn out, cradled his son like he was a newborn.

“Hey buddy,” He whispered into Jack’s hair, “How have you been?”

Jack’s reply was muffled in his suit jacket, “Good!”

“How was your time with Sebastian?”

“We went to the zoo!”

Sebastian caught Hotch’s gaze over Jack’s shoulder, and immediately Sebastian busied himself with clearing the table, “Lucky you caught him on his way to bed.”

“Come on,” Hotch patted Jack’s back, “Let’s get you off to sleep.”

He carried Jack off to his bedroom, leaving his briefcase at the door. Sebastian watched them go with a half-smile. One that disappeared when it turned to the chores at hand.

First things first, he placed Hotch’s dinner onto a plate and placed it in the oven, still warm from the initial cooking. Of course, he didn’t put the salad in the oven. He wasn’t an idiot. Then it was putting the leftovers in the fridge, scrubbing at the dishes and cutlery, cleaning down the table, sweeping up the stuff. Somehow he was always more productive when the repercussions were next to instantaneous.

“Did Jack go down OK?” Sebastian asked once Hotch had returned to the kitchen.

“Yes, he’s quite worn out from your trip.”

“How was the case?”

The question was offered with a levity that Hotch understood as merely checking in, not an attempt to mine the grisly details from his mind. That much was clear when Hotch set his gun down on the table and Sebastian tensed before moving around and away from it. Hotch then picked it back up and deposited it in a drawer.

“It was fine, glad it was over quick. Is that my dinner?” Hotch opened the oven, standing clear of the hot air that escaped from it.

Nodding, Sebastian passed the dying up cloth between his two hands, “Yeah, plus salad, crisps – sorry, ‘chips’ - for the top.” He corrected himself only because Hotch’s eyebrows knitted at his choice of words.

“You put chips on top of your pasta?” He said slowly.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

Looking unconvinced, Hotch closed the oven again, “How did you find your time with Jack?”

“He’s a good kid, we had fun today. Plus, he didn’t kick up a fuss eating his five-a-day which is a bonus,” Sebastian twisted the dish cloth around, “You’ve done a good job raising him.”

Hotch nodded with what Sebastian was saying, and while his face stayed neutral, his eyes held a glint.

“Then you wouldn’t have any objections to becoming his nanny full time, would you?”

Offer sank in and Sebastian’s face broke out into a toothy grin, “Yeah? Even with the crisp-chips?”

Hotch’s shoulders dropped about half an inch of tension, “Do you have your documents with you? We can get the paperwork done tonight.”

A little undainty on his feet, Sebastian went to his room and grabbed his folder of his important paperwork that was still in his unpacked suitcase. He tried to keep his clothes neat now that they were out on the carpet.

“Can I get you a drink?” Hotch asked, already pouring himself a scotch. He had served his dinner while Sebastian was out of the room. He’d even sprinkled a few chips on top like Sebastian had suggested.

“I’m good with water, thanks,” and Sebastian sat opposite Hotch’s place at the table.

“You don’t mind if I eat while we do this? I haven’t since lunch time.”

“Go ahead.”

Sebastian waited until he was a few forkfuls into his meal before speaking again, “Thoughts on the chips?”

He had to severely mute his reaction as he watched the corner of Hotch’s mouth quirk up and stay there, “Surprisingly good.”

With glee, Sebastian snapped his fingers, “Success!”

Once settled, Hotch and Sebastian discussed fees, records, emergency contacts. A copy of the background check Hotch had already completed sat atop the contract. Hotch let Sebastian read through to his leisure while he polished off his dinner. By the time his plate was cleared, Sebastian’s signature had been scribbled alongside Hotch’s on the few dotted lines that concluded the sheets of paper.

“You’re officially hired,” Hotch slid a pair of newly cut keys across the table. When Sebastian pocketed them, he held up his tumbler.

“To having a job,” Sebastian clinked his glass against Hotch’s and took a sip, “Thank you. Forgot to send you this yesterday by the way.”

And he sent the photos off to Hotch’s number. Not a moment later, Hotch’s phone beeped and he picked it up, his thumb swiping over the photos. To fill the quiet, Sebastian asked, “Do you have a preference on what I can send you and when while you’re away? I don’t wanna bother you too much while you’re working.” His rambling faded as he watched Hotch’s face soften.

“Send me photos whenever you can.” Hotch’s voice had melted too, warming Sebastian’s already soporific heart.

Sebastian stifled a yawn before swallowing, “And I think that’s the end of my day approaching. Goodnight, Aaron.”

“One more thing,” Hotch slipped his phone into his breast pocket, “Why did you move over here, Sebastian?”

“I had a pen pal over here, we met on holiday when we were kids, and I wanted to move away from home. So I got a Visa and moved in with her.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Satisfied, Hotch began to clear up his plate, “Goodnight, Sebastian.”

Sebastian went to say goodnight but, remembering he’d already said that, he just left for his bedroom.

[myspideysensesrtingling]

In My Way (1)

IN MY WAY: THE COUPLE FROM NEW YORK

Pairing: (eventual) Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 2539

Warnings: none!

Notes: first fic alert! I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: You've spent your days devoted to learning both in and out of class. You've grown up accustomed to this lifestyle and even accepted that you'd grow up at the orphanage. So when an unnamed couple calls and wants to adopt you, you're nothing short of intrigued.

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Sunlight crawled along the old wood floor, slowly reaching creeping up the bed and onto your face. Closing your eyelids a little tighter, you rolled over in your twin cot for just one more breath before the day began. You inhaled deeply as you sat up and reached for the ceiling, a monstrous yawn escaping from your lips despite the long night of sleep. Slowly twisting around to stretch your back next, you stole a glance at the clock - 6:28 am. Two minutes before the alarm would go off - right on time.

It was another summer Monday like any other: quiet in the house for at least a little longer. The other children would wake up sometime in the next half hour and the volume level would quickly escalate. You loved to enjoy these moments of silence at the start of each day. Turning the alarm off, you rotated to face away from the window, sliding your legs out from under the blankets. Your toes just touched the ground; you pressed into them as you shifted your weight to stand up. Rolling your neck around to alleviate some typical stiffness, you crept around the other cots with kids still snoozing to get to the dresser. You reached into the top drawer labeled "GIRLS 13&UP" and fished around for a moment before pulling out a light long sleeve shirt and some running shorts. You slipped them on gingerly, followed by a pair of well-worn white socks, and laced up your scuffed running shoes. The traction on the bottom was nonexistent, worn completely flat from covering many more miles than the shoes were meant for. As you left the girls' dormitory, you grabbed a hair tie and slipped your hair into a high ponytail.

This was a normal routine for you; each day, you'd wake up before anyone else in the house and slip downstairs without notice of the majority of the residents. Before sneaking out the back door, you caught a glimpse of light glowing out of the office of the headmaster, a slightly heavy-set brunette in her late fifties who dressed the same every single day. You knocked softly and, upon hearing confirmation, pushed on the handle to swing the heavy door open, revealing Miss Johnson already scanning over paperwork on top of her desk.

"Good morning, Y/N," Miss Johnson uttered, already focused on her work, "are you planning to go on your usual run?"

"Yes, ma'am," you replied, eager as these morning jogs were a privilege you were not prepared to lose. "And--good morning to you, too, of course."

"Here's your tracker. Stay within the property line and be back within an hour." Miss Johnson quickly returned her attention back to the papers in front of her as you took the location-tracking watch and fastened it to your wrist. You were by far the oldest at the orphanage at the age of 15 (almost 16, as you counted down the days), which granted you some freedoms. These rules only allowed kids above the age of 13 to use these tracking devices so they could pass the tree line and venture into the forest that lay beyond the courtyard behind the orphanage. This was where the other kids - all under the age of ten - played in a recess-like setting under supervision by the teachers on the grounds. Though filled with outdoor toys and games, this didn't afford them much room to play as the tree line sat quite close to the building. It was the forest that extended far beyond and opened up to multiple trails. These were used primarily in science classes to test the environment or for hikes that substituted for PE classes, but you loved the serenity of being outside in the trees in the morning when the world felt quiet and belonged completely to you. When you turned 13, you quickly took advantage of the freedoms granted by the rule. You never pushed the boundaries, though - breaking rules was not something you had experience in.

You crept out the back door and into the sun as it slowly climbed higher above the horizon and inched its way up the sky. After stretching your legs briefly and rolling your shoulders each way, you strolled toward the forest edge at the back of the yard. You walked in a little way to keep loosening your muscles and, upon reaching the tree with the bird's nest perched on a low branch you could almost see into when standing on your toes, jogged off.

This time had become an adventure despite knowing your usual route and the landmarks in the forest as well as you knew your own name. That said, you didn't know a third of your name. Over 15 and a half years ago on a late December night, Miss Johnson hustled to a knock at the door only to find you as an infant on the doorstep in a small basket with a typed note reading "Y/N XXX --- [Y/B/D]/2001." Drops of rain from the overhang on the porch had fallen onto your small face and the note, causing the ink of the last name to run and rendering it illegible. Despite hours of research on where the mysterious child came from, child services was unsuccessful in determining your last name or in even finding any record of you. They then somewhat randomly picked the last name Anderson for you and Y/N Anderson then existed in the system under the care Miss Johnson and the other teachers at the Children's Home of Seattle. That was the extent of your knowledge about your past. It was 2017 now and you had other things to think about; you rarely concerned yourself with it as all your life had been at the orphanage as long as you could remember.

Continuing your jog along the path, you reached the bottom of a hill and trotted up to the top where the trees cleared and the entire Seattle cityscape was within sight. It was a beautiful August day without a cloud in the sky and most of the city was already bustling. Behind you you could see across Puget Sound and over to the Olympic Peninsula where the Olympic Mountain Range launched into the sky. In front of you you could see the Rocky Mountains stretching up even farther away. Looking to your left was downtown, with the Space Needle standing out near the sports stadiums and the many high-rise towers. Any run up a hill was worth it to earn this view!

After looking lovingly over the surrounding landscape, you jogged back down into the forest along the second half of the trail. You admired the evergreen trees as you went while listening closely for the squirrels scrambling up trees and birds chirping back and forth. Beads of sweat formed at your hairline deep in the forest, driving you to push just barely harder for this last stretch on the way back to the home. The forest ground lightened as daylight crept in and you suddenly reached the opening of the trees back into the courtyard. Taking a deep breath and slowing to a walk, you paced in some circles to slow your breathing before opening the back door and returning the tracker to Miss Johnson in her back-corner office.

"Oh, Y/N, hold up a second," Miss Johnson said as you turned away. You slammed on the breaks and whipped back around as uncomfortable thoughts consumed you: Am I in trouble? Did I go over my time limit? You were no rebel and the thought of possibly having done something wrong set you on edge. The teachers at the home weren’t particularly strict and you had never gotten in trouble, but it didn’t mean you weren't afraid of the thought of it.

"I…I actually had someone call about you. They will be arriving at nine this morning," Miss Johnson stated, hope underlying her tone, "so please come back to my office a few minutes after that so I can meet them before you come in."

The whites of your eyes stretched as you stared back at Miss Johnson. This had happened just twice before, and both times were a bust as you went to the homes of the people looking to adopt you for only a week or two before returning to the orphanage. You never lost hope, however. Sure, your life so far had consisted of your time at the orphanage. But there was no way your future would be there, too. Every day you woke up and went on your jog, then studied all morning as all the other kids went to their classes. You initially took classes with the other kids but begged the professors to privately teach you so you could progress ahead of the younger kids. You initially didn't get your wish, but as you continued to surpass the other kids, the teachers eventually decided it would be in everyone's best interest. The system worked out well for you; you were able to take the morning to yourself to study and research topics you found interesting on a spare computer in the computer lab. Oddly enough, this time alone spent researching was when you learned the most. The afternoon consisted of your private lessons, which were also much more efficient since you were the only student. Your standardized test scores were off the charts, but you didn't know that. You knew you passed and that they were good, but you didn't know they were that good. You had no idea how smart you really were and instead figured that you scored poorly on tests, which was why no one came to adopt you. Plus, who would want a 15- (almost 16) year-old when they could adopt a much younger kid?

Doubts about how adoptable you were cast aside, you instantly had an endless list of questions to ask Miss Johnson about these potential parents. Who were they? How did they know about you? What were they like? Before receiving the chance to ask any of these pertinent questions, Miss Johnson cut you off.

"It is a couple from New York. The man called and refused to give a name over the phone but sent numerous recommendations from high-ranking officials and clearly is a reliable person. I know nothing about them, which is why I need a little time to speak to them before you come in," she stated, trying to be optimistic without getting her or your hopes up. "Just wait outside my office a little after nine and I will bring you in when we are ready to see you. Ok?"

Clearing your throat - and your head - you nodded coolly and ducked out of the office. Mind running faster than a race horse, you headed back upstairs, oblivious to the small kids running around and past you. There were so many things that could happen and so little time until they did. Your imagination weaved intricate stories of who this couple could be as you grabbed your bathroom caddy and hopped in the shower once all the kids were gone. You didn't stop thinking about it - not while you brushed your teeth, not while you put clean clothes on, not while you brushed your hair - you were on autopilot while considering all the possibilities the day could bring.

Back in the bedroom, your clock never moved as slowly as it did now. You were ten the last time someone came to meet you; nerves were quickly resurfacing. Soon enough, though, the clock ticked to nine and you laced her trusted shoes back up to go downstairs. You immediately analyzed everything about yourself and everything you ever did. Were you smart? Were you nice enough? Were you cute enough? Were you enough? You didn't have much social experience other than with adults and with kids way younger than you…what if they thought you were weird?

Next thing you knew, you stood outside Miss Johnson's office for the third time that day. Leaning up against the wall facing the office, you focused on your breathing. It was a method you learned online as with a lot of things you knew. Counting slowly to three on the inhale…and to five on the exhale. But your mind still ran. And ran, and ran, and ran…

In the brief moment the headmistress stepped outside, the woman was checking over her nervous fiancée. They had both talked about this decision for months but were not immune to the jitters. Their relationship had been rocky and adding a kid to the picture would smooth anything over.

“Come here,” the woman whispered to the man, who stared straight ahead as his knee bounced relentlessly. She leaned over and adjusted his lapel, smoothing it out. “You do want to impress her, right?”

“Yes,” he bit back without looking at her, swiftly covering up his own nerves as he had learned to do so well growing up. “But I don’t want to look like father business, honey!” In their silent connection the woman knew exactly what he was referring to. He despised his father and the fact that he grew up, for the most part, without one. Without his knowledge, his thoughts mirrored those of the girl outside; he feared the worst. He feared he wouldn’t be enough.

“Hey,” the woman asserted, setting aside her own anxiety to try to quell that of the man next to her. She leaned over once again and gingerly placed a hand on the cheek facing away from her, pulling his face toward her. “She’s not going to think you’re like your dad,” she assured. She kissed him on the cheek closest to her and let him go as the door creaked back open behind them.

"Y/N?" Your head shot up as Miss Johnson stuck her head only out of the office door and into the hallway as if she was going to ask a password before allowing entry. "Please come in."

Nodding slowly, you stepped forward and paused with your eyes softly closed for just a half second to regain your composure before the moment of truth. Miss Johnson closed the door behind you, and there was the couple from New York sitting at the desk. The woman sat, stretched up tall with perfect posture, styled in a white suit perfectly pressed and contoured to her shape. Her skin glowed as much as her light hair. The man next to her wore a dark suit with light stripes, a pale blue dress shirt, and a navy tie. His hair was dark and slightly unkempt yet still fitting the rest of his look. Large sunglasses covered his face. Despite the contrast in their appearances they shared the same expression: a soft, closed-mouth smile with nothing but hope in their eyes. In return, you stared with a puzzled look to try to figure out where you knew these people from. You knew her. You knew him. It couldn’t be. No way. But it was.

"Hi, Y/N," the man said as they both stood. He slipped off his glasses and stuck out his hand, finally introducing himself. "I'm Tony Stark."

taglist: @irndad

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[thirstygirlclub]

Sweet Girl - 3

Chapter 3 – I'm going to f***** scream.

The relief I had felt when I saw that there was a small block of showers on the ferry was only mildly orgasmic. I used Clay's credit card to buy a bottle of 2 in 1 shampoo so I could wash my hair. When I dragged myself under the water I started to feel human again. I washed out all the bits of brain and skull out of the rats nest that I called my hair. I tried not to look at the drain where it was all being collected. I used every last drop of the shampoo to clean myself and as soon as the water ran clear, instead of being a murky brown colour, I stepped out to use the useless hair dryer.

"I thought you had washed down the drain," Jax said when I came out to meet him on the deck of the boat.

I laughed lightly as I threw away the t-shirt and bits of my friends' killer in a bin.

I was feeling slightly better by now. I tried to push the last 24 hours out of my memory but as hard as I did, I couldn't get her face out of my brain. Before I had found the showers, Jax and I had gone to the small clothing store looking for something for me to wear. I went for all black to blend in with my travelling companions, I had told him but I wore a lot of black anyway. He had convinced me to get a leather jacket too, an item that I had never owned in my life.

"No way," I argued with a laugh, "I'll look like such a try hard."

"Just buy the damn thing; you'll look badass. The rest of the girls wear them anyway. You're gonna fit right in."

I purposefully chose clothes that I never would have worn in England. I'm not going to be a business bitch in California, why try to dress like one? I'll have to admit, wearing flat shoes felt nice; I knew I could probably walk for hours in these boots. I was just in a plain black cropped tank top and high-waisted jeans. I was more comfortable in these clothes than in the pencil skirts and high heels but I don't think I looked as good.

"Best get back to Clay, he's tried ringing me about a million times."

Jax showed me his phone and saw that there were 3 missed calls.

When we approached the other men, Chibs let out a low whistle and pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. I twirled around and posed dramatically. Clay held out his hand for the credit card.

I shook my head and took the card out of my pocket to put in his hands but then snatched it away. It was childish, admittedly, but did I regret it? Not at all.

"Come on gents," I said, "Does anyone fancy lunch?"

"Vivania," Clay warned in a low, warning voice.

"Are you seriously trying to parent me right now?"

He was getting angry but I was beginning to think that perhaps stealing his credit card wasn't the best idea but the humour in my cousins eyes told me to carry on.

"I'm not a child," I said, even though I knew full well I was acting like a spoilt teenager, "I bet they're hungry. I know I am."

"It's the least you could do Clay," Jax laughed, "you kind of owe her. Besides, my stomach has been growling all morning."

Clay sighed then walked towards me with a mildly defeated expression.

The cheerful and good humoured atmosphere didn't last long though. Mid way through our lunch, paid for by Clay before he snatched the credit card back, a news report came on.

"Police are still looking for Emilia D'Arcy after yesterday's shooting at the St. Trents School; a private school on the southern English coast," a news reader states as a photograph of me at my college graduation is shown on the screen, "all that is known about the incident is that it involved the Warrens; a notorious and violent American street gang based in California USA. There has been no official ransom notice or photographs. None of Miss D'Arcy's family have come forward as of yet… The weather in the north-"

I shrunk down in my seat as some people turned to eye us suspiciously.

"I think we should get back to the van, Jacky Boy." Chibs said quietly.

Jax nodded and tapped my shoulder before we stood up. I took one last gulp of my tea and followed them out.

"Who are the Warrens?" I asked Jax once we got back to the vehicle.

"A family, rival club. We did them a dirty deal and they took it… personally."

"And I come into it how? How did they find out who I was?"

"They're a family. Your stepdad is called Michael Warren, right?"

Fuck, was my first thought, fucking shit, was my second.

"He's from England. It's a coincidence, surely?"

I started putting things together in my head. It was like some sort weird montage.

All of those men coming into the house when I was a child in their leather vests; the angry phone calls he would make and then throw the phone.

"He is the leader?" I asked Clay.

"No, a brother; sent to run the British charter; Christopher Warren is the pres. of the mother club."

I looked at him just baffled with the whole situation. How had it turned so crazy so fast? The other day I was working towards my degree, my friend was still alive and I was in no known danger.

"I just-" I shrugged in disbelief.

"I'll explain it all when we get home Vivania," Clay said carefully, "but right now we need to stay under the radar. No leaving this van unless you need to piss, got it? Chibs, you and Hap are going with Viv if she needs to leave."

"Babysitters? Really? Are you kidding? I can look after myself."

"Aye," Chibs said and showed me his forearms, "you're scrappy alright."

"Shit," I gasped and gently touched the scratches I had evidently made when they pulled me out of my dorm.

"Scrappy ain't gonna save your life though."

"I am so sorry."

I looked back up to him with wide eyes. I didn't even know I had done it, I didn't know who was pulling me out of that dorm. He had been so kind to me; I felt bad.

"Don't worry about it, I've had worse."

I looked over the scars on his cheeks and frowned. I guess they had been through a lot more than what I had seen. I wondered suddenly how many people they had killed, or had seen die. How much blood had they spilled in the name of the Sons of Anarchy? I shuddered at the thought. I realised I was still staring at him and looked away with a flush on my cheeks. I was sat in a van with, what are essentially, 4 mass murderers. I shrunk back in my seat and stayed mostly quiet for the rest of the journey.

After what felt like weeks, we were back on solid ground and driving through Charming. I couldn't help but smile when I saw the old sign that hadn't changed since I left. To be honest, nothing had changed much. It was more built up than I remembered it being but my memories were so fuzzy it was like it happened to someone else.

"Welcome home, Pumpkin." Clay said with a smile as he pulled into the TM Motors lot.

Stepping out of the van into the hot California sun and onto the forecourt of the garage felt like a dream. My shoes scuffed against the rough ground as I looked around. The only things that had changed were the men walking around in the uniforms and the sign above the work area. Bikes lined the road leading into it and I couldn't help but be mesmerised by how they all shone in the sun. There were girls sitting on them talking to men that did that manly nod to Jax and Clay as we passed them.

"Is that her?!" I heard a voice shout over and whipped my head around to see a tall man with a beard and beanie on, despite the weather.

"Harry?!" I shouted, a look of delight lit up his face and he started walking towards me.

I jogged to him; as soon as we met he laughed and grabbed me into a bear hug, lifting me off my feet with ease. I hugged him back tightly as he spun me around.

"You were just a skinny kid," I said when he put me back on the floor, "what the fuck happened?"

"Same to you," he said and looked me up and down, not like he was checking me out, just like he couldn't believe that I was grown up, "I missed you, kid."

I nodded and held back tears as the others had caught up. There were lots of 'bro hugs' going on and I watched the exchanges with interest. I felt like such an outsider; something I hadn't felt since I started school before I got a name for myself with my… antics. More people were starting to gather around I was introduced to them all, the entire time I was looking for my aunt Gemma. I met with Mr. Winston, although he said to please call him Piney, and hugged him tenderly.

"I swear to god," I said quietly to Chibs after being introduced to Bobby Elvis, "if I hear one more ridiculous name, I'm going to fucking scream."

He chuckled beside me as a man with a Mohawk approached my nervously. He was so sweet looking that I could barely see him as a killer. He smiled at me and scratched the back of his head.

"Hey," he said, "I'm Juice."

"Oh my god." I sighed and heard Chibs laugh beside me.

"What?"

"Nothing," I shook my head, "it's nice to meet you."

Later on that evening I still hadn't seen Aunt Gemma and I was getting tense. I had been promised that I would see her at the "family dinner" which wasn't just Gemma, Clay, Jax and I; it was the whole club. I had met most of them already except for a few that were out on a "run". I said bye and see you later to the guys and Clay drove me to his and Gemma's place. It was the first time we had been alone since the school. I was nervous and tired but mostly hungry.

The smell of cooking hit me as soon as I walked in and my stomach growled.

"Vee!?"

I recognised the voice as soon as I heard it. When she came to the hallway where I was stood with my arms folded nervously. I had missed her so much.

"C'mere Baby," she said and I ran into her open arms.

She hadn't changed at all, not really. I hugged her so tightly that she had to tell me to loosen my grip. I apologised but didn't let go.

Back when I was a child, Aunt Gemma was one of the only sources of stability in my young life. She always had me over to her house to sleep if my mother was going particularly crazy; there was always a bed for me there. That's where I had been when I was taken away.

"It's ok, darlin'," she whispered into my hair, "you're safe here."

I nodded and pulled away. She cupped my face with her hands and kissed my forehead gently before taking my hand and leading me into the kitchen where I saw a couple of other women chopping up vegetables and working over pots. She introduced me to Luanne and Lila.

"Do you need me to help?" I asked after I had greeted them.

"Can you make any desserts?" Luanne asked, "I don't think I'm gonna have time."

"Yeah sure. What have you got?"

I spent the latter part of the afternoon helping the other ladies in the kitchen talking about my school life and the mischief I had got up to with Anya. They laughed when I told them about the different guys I had slept with and why I had broken up with them.

"He legitimately thought he was a werewolf!" I told them as they laughed, "He used to howl when he came and it was the funniest thing! I could never keep a straight face."

"Private school isn't quite all it looks on the TV, huh?" Aunt Gemma said before tasting my cake batter, "that's delicious, by the way."

I grinned, happy that I had impressed her.

Once everything was finished the others had started to arrive and my stomach started turning in knots when I heard their voices.

"Go and get cleaned up, hon; we'll see you in a minute." Gemma said.

After I had washed my hands I followed the cacophony of noise coming from where I guessed the dining room was. There was a huge table, lined with people. It was amazing. Jax had come over immediately with his son in his arms and his girlfriend by his side.

"Hi," she said with a welcoming smile, "I'm Tara. Jax has told me all about you; what he didn't Gemma did."

I laughed but wasn't embarrassed; they were some funny stories.

Gemma was at one end of the table while Clay was at the other end. Jax and Tara sat up near Clay with Opie and Chibs. There was only a couple of people I hadn't met, one of them was a handsome guy with amazing blue eyes and dark hair. He walked over to me, picked up my hand and kissed it. I laughed but felt myself blushing slightly.

"Hello beautiful lady," he said, "I'm Alexander Trager, but you can call me Tig."

"I'm Emi- I'm Vivania." using my real name will take some getting used too, "It's nice to meet you Tig."

"Down boy!" Chibs shouted over and threw a bread roll at the back of Tig's head.

The latter whipped around and went to throw it back but Gemma had barked at them to grow up. Immediately, they stopped and behaved themselves. I looked at her with an amused expression; impressed that she could get the big, bad biker guys to shut up and sit down. Gemma winked at me and patted the space next to her so I could sit down.

Dinner went by quite well, I chatted and was charismatic although I felt so nervous I thought I was going to faint. It came back to the realisation I had in the van. I was sat at a table full of killers but watching them interact and listening to them talking to each other made it hard to believe. Soon though, conversation had turned to the Warrens. I was listening really intently.

"So," Chibs said as he took a third slice of my chocolate cake, "what are we gonna do about those fuc- um… pricks?"

"We can't just go in guns blazing," Clay said with a casual sip of beer, "there'll be all sorts of complications with their allies. We've got to be careful."

"So undercut their business," I said and looked between them and all the other people around the table looked at me, "they supply guns too right?"

They nodded.

I said ,"okay, then take away their business. If they bought the guns from SOA to then sell onto other people then they could offer to cut out the middle man, sell them the product for cheaper therefore making the Warrens part of the deal obsolete. They could get the contacts from the Warrens system, which wouldn't be hard to do, if my stepdad's lack of computer knowledge was anything to go by, and contact them directly."

"Ok…" Clay nodded slowly, mulling over my idea, "and how do we get them to bite? They are gonna go to the Warrens if they are close enough."

"No offence," I said with a smile, "they're all criminals, just like you. If you guys were offered a new price, which your enemies weren't going to get, would you tell people about it? Unlikely. Getting them to take the offer is the hard part, find out what they like. Drugs, guns, girls? Whatever it is, deliver it to them, for free as a thank you, with some of your best men as guard dogs. You need to make it seem like you care about them; make them think you value their business.

"Once you've got them and their other clientele, the Warrens go out of business; they leave to find someone else to sell your guns too. You take their business, you take their land and you can expand not only the SOA but Teller-Morrow motors. You can raise your prices slowly until they are paying the same amount that they were paying the Warrens and your guys are rolling in the dough."

They were looking impressed with my idea and a warm feeling of pride was spreading through me.

"Baking and criminally minded," Tig said with a sly smile, "how are you still single?"

"Just lucky I guess," I shrugged, winking at him.

A discussion ensued about the new plan. I felt a warm hand on my arm and looked over to Gemma who was looking at me with a proud smile and nodding. They were talking about the Warren's buyers, who they were and what they liked. Clay tapped his beer bottle on the table silencing everybody.

"Ok, I know we're all excited, but let's talk about this more tomorrow in Church. Before we do anything, I want to run it by my daughter," he pointed at me with his bottle, "she'll be the brains behind the operation."

By then it was far too late, everyone that had brought their children had gone home along with some others. The only people left around the table were myself, Clay, Chibs, Jax and Tig just drinking and talking. It felt nice, honestly, normal. I felt almost at home. I could hear Gemma clattering around in the kitchen as she cleaned up and conversation had turned back to my time at the school. I poured myself some more wine as I answered their questions.

"So," Jax asked, "how many languages do you actually speak?"

"Like 4 fluently, not including English. I speak, Spanish, Russian, French and Italian. Oh and Latin but nobody knows what that actually sounds like so I don't really count it."

"Clever girl," Chibs said with a slight slur in his voice.

I shrugged again and drained the rest of the bottle of wine into my glass although I was feeling extremely drowsy. I wasn't even sure if I would be able to find the room that had been set up for me. I stood up, with my wine in hand, and announced that I was going to bed. I leant down and kissed Jax on the cheek before going to leave but I heard Tig go, 'Um, what about us?' so I turned and kissed the others to, saying goodnight as I went round the table.

"Good to have you back, Kid." Clay said seriously after I stood up back up from him.

I nodded silently and moved over to Chibs, placing my arm around his shoulders to pull him closer before planting a gentle kiss on his scarred cheek.

"Goodnight Chibs, thanks for coming to get me," I said to him as I stood back up.

"Don't worry about it," he said quietly, looking almost shy.

When I got to Tig I laughed; he had stood up with his arms open wide. I stepped close to him and hugged him, careful not to spill my wine. He kissed me hard on the lips.

"Goodnight Tigger." I laughed and stepped away.

I had stumbled up the stairs with my head spinning and vision blurry. I did find the bedroom eventually, thanks to Gemma coming out of her bedroom and pointed me in the right direction. I collapsed fully clothed on the bed and fell asleep straight away.

Sorry!: that was a bit more cheerful, wasn't it? Sorry for the late update, I was meaning for this to be up yesterday but it turned out to be a bit hectic for me on a personal level but hopefully you'll forgive me? I made this one at least 1000 words longer than my previous chapters. I just couldn't stop writing! I probably rambled a lot but I have set up the subplot that I'm hoping to carry on with during this story.

Thanks for all the lovely comments guys! I have really needed something positive to look at these past couple of days and I just kept rereading them. I know it sounds sad but this is the first ever thing I have ever put of mine anywhere for people to see and all your nice words mean a lot to me.

Enough rambling!

Thanks again,

Love, Doe xx

[myspideysensesrtingling]

In My Way (1)

IN MY WAY: THE COUPLE FROM NEW YORK

Pairing: (eventual) Peter Parker x Female!OC

Words: 2504

Warnings: none!

Notes: first fic alert! I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Charlotte spends her days devoted to learning both in and out of class. She’s grown accustomed to this lifestyle and even accepted that she’ll grow up at the orphanage. So when an unnamed couple calls and wants to adopt her, she’s nothing short of intrigued.

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Sunlight crawled along the old wood floor, slowly reaching and creeping up her bed and onto her face. Closing her eyelids a little tighter, Charlotte rolled over in her twin cot for just one more breath before the day began. She inhaled deeply as she sat up and reached for the ceiling, a monstrous yawn escaping from her lips despite her long night of sleep. Slowly twisting around to stretch her back next, she stole a glance at the clock - 6:28 am. Two minutes before her alarm would go off - right on time.

It was another summer Monday like any other: quiet in the house for at least a little longer. The other children would wake up sometime in the next half hour and the volume level would quickly escalate. Charlotte loved to enjoy these moments of silence at the start of each day. Turning her alarm off, she rotated to face away from the window, sliding her legs out from under the blankets. Her toes just touched the ground; she pressed into them as she shifted her weight to stand up. Rolling her neck around on her head to alleviate some typical stiffness, she crept around the other cots with kids still snoozing to get to her dresser. She reached into the top drawer labeled "GIRLS 13&UP" and fished around for a moment before pulling out a light long sleeve shirt and some running shorts. She slipped them on gingerly, followed by a pair of well-worn white socks, and laced up her scuffed running shoes. The traction on the bottom was nonexistent, worn completely flat from covering many more miles than the shoes were meant for. As she left the girls' dormitory, she grabbed a hair tie and slipped her chest-length strawberry-blonde hair into a high ponytail.

This was a normal routine for Charlotte; each day, she would wake before anyone else in the house and slip downstairs without notice of the majority of the residents. Before sneaking out the back door, she caught a glimpse of light glowing out of the office of the headmaster, a slightly heavy-set brunette in her late fifties who dressed the same every day. Charlotte knocked softly and, upon hearing confirmation, pushed on the handle to swing the heavy door open, revealing Miss Johnson already scanning over paperwork on top of her desk.

"Good morning, Charlotte," Miss Johnson uttered, already focused on her work, "are you planning to go on your usual run?"

"Yes, ma'am," Charlotte replied, eager as these morning jogs were a privilege she was not prepared to lose. "And--good morning to you, too, of course."

"Here's your tracker. Stay within the property line and be back within an hour." Miss Johnson quickly returned her attention back to the papers in front of her as Charlotte took the location-tracking watch and fastened it to her wrist. Charlotte was by far the oldest at the orphanage at the age of 15 (almost 16, as Charlotte counted down the days), which granted her some freedoms. These rules only allowed kids above the age of 13 to use these tracking devices so they could pass the tree line and venture into the forest that lay beyond the courtyard behind the orphanage. This was where the other kids - all under the age of ten - played in a recess-like setting under supervision by the teachers on the grounds. Though filled with outdoor toys and games, this didn't afford them much room to play as the tree line sat quite close to the building. It was the forest that extended far beyond and opened up to multiple trails. These were used primarily in science classes to test the environment or for hikes that substituted for P.E. classes, but Charlotte loved the serenity of being outside in the trees in the morning when the world felt quiet and belonged completely to her. When she turned 13, she quickly took advantage of the freedoms granted by the rule. She never pushed the boundaries, though - breaking rules was not something Charlotte had experience in.

Charlotte crept out the back door and into the sun as it slowly climbed higher above the horizon and inched its way up the sky. After stretching her legs briefly and rolling her shoulders each way, she strolled toward the forest edge at the back of the yard. She walked in a little way to keep loosening her muscles and, upon reaching the tree with the bird's nest perched on a low branch she could almost see into when standing on her toes, jogged off.

This time had become an adventure despite knowing her usual route and the landmarks in the forest as well as she knew her own name. That said, she didn't know a third of her name. Over 15 and a half years ago on a late December night, Miss Johnson hustled to a knock at the door only to find Charlotte as an infant on the doorstep in a small basket with a typed note reading "Charlotte Maeve XXX---9/26/2001." Drops of rain from the overhang on the porch had fallen onto her small face and the note, causing the ink of the last name to run and rendering it illegible. Despite hours of research on where the mysterious child came from, child services was unsuccessful in determining Charlotte last name or in even finding any record of her. They then somewhat randomly picked the last name Anderson for her and Charlotte Maeve Anderson then existed in the system under the care Miss Johnson and the other teachers at the Children's Home of Seattle. That was the extent of Charlotte's knowledge about her past. It was 2017 now and she had other things to think about; she rarely concerned herself with it as all the memorable parts of her life were at the orphanage.

Continuing her jog along the path, she reached the bottom of a hill and trotted up to the top where the trees cleared and the entire Seattle cityscape was within sight. It was a beautiful August day without a cloud in the sky and most of the city was already bustling. Behind her she could see across Puget Sound and over to the Olympic Peninsula where the Olympic Mountain Range launched into the sky. In front of her she could see the Rocky Mountains stretching up even farther away. Looking to her left was downtown, with the Space Needle standing out near the sports stadiums and the many high-rise towers. Any run up a hill was worth it to earn this view!

After looking lovingly over the surrounding landscape, Charlotte jogged back down into the forest along the second half of the trail. She admired the evergreen trees as she went while listening closely for the squirrels scrambling up trees and birds chirping back and forth. Beads of sweat formed at her hairline deep in the forest, driving her to push just barely harder for this last stretch on her way back to the home. The forest ground lightened as daylight crept in and Charlotte suddenly reached the opening of the trees back into the courtyard. Taking a deep breath and slowing to a walk, she paced in some circles to slow her breathing before opening the back door and returning the tracker to Miss Johnson in her back-corner office.

"Oh, Charlotte, hold up a second," Miss Johnson said as Charlotte turned away. Charlotte slammed on the breaks and whipped back around as uncomfortable thoughts consumed her. Am I in trouble? Did I go over my time limit? Charlotte was no rebel and the thought of possibly having done something wrong set her on edge. The teachers at the home weren’t particularly strict and Charlotte had never gotten in trouble, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid of the thought of it.

"I…I actually had someone call about you. They will be arriving at nine this morning," Miss Johnson stated, hope underlying her tone, "so please come back to my office a few minutes after that so I can meet them before you come in."

The whites of Charlotte eyes stretched as she stared at Miss Johnson. This had happened to her just twice before, and both times were a bust as she went to the homes of the people looking to adopt her for only a week or two before returning to the orphanage. Charlotte never lost hope, however. Sure, her life so far had consisted of her time with Miss Johnson at the home. But there was no way her future would be there, too. Every day she woke up and went on her jog, then studied all morning as all the other kids went to their classes. She initially took classes with the other kids, but begged the professors to privately teach her so she could progress ahead of the younger kids. She initially didn't get her wish, but as she continued to surpass the other kids, the teachers eventually decided it would be in her best interest. The system worked out well for Charlotte as she took the morning to herself to study and research topics she found interesting on a spare computer in the computer lab. Oddly enough, this time alone spent researching was when Charlotte learned the most. The afternoon consisted of her private lessons, which were also much more efficient since she was the only student. Her standardized test scores were off the charts, but Charlotte didn't know that. She knew she had passed and that they were good, but she didn't know they were that good. She had no idea how smart she really was and instead figured that she scored poorly on tests, which was why no one came to adopt her. Plus, who would want a 15- (almost 16) year-old when they could adopt a much younger kid?

Doubts about how adoptable she was set aside, Charlotte instantly had an endless list of questions she wanted to ask Miss Johnson about these potential parents. Who were they? How did they know about her? What were they like? Before receiving the chance to ask any of these pertinent questions, Miss Johnson cut her off.

"It is a couple from New York. The man called and refused to give a name over the phone but sent numerous recommendations from high-ranking officials and clearly is a reliable person. I know nothing about them, which is why I need a little time to speak to them before you come in," she stated, trying to be optimistic without getting her or Charlotte's hopes up. "Just wait outside my office a little after nine and I will bring you in when we are ready to see you. Ok?"

Clearing her throat - and her head - Charlotte nodded coolly and ducked out of the office. Mind running faster than a race horse, she headed back upstairs. Her preoccupation made her oblivious to the small kids running around and past her. There were so many things that could happen and so little time until they did. Her imagination weaved intricate stories of who this couple could be as she grabbed her bathroom caddy and hopped in the shower once all the kids were gone. She didn't stop thinking about it - not while she brushed her teeth, not while she put clean clothes on, not while she brushed her hair - she was on autopilot while considering all the possibilities the day could bring.

Back in the bedroom, Charlotte's clock never moved as slowly as it did now. She was ten the last time someone came to meet her; nerves were quickly resurfacing. Soon enough, though, the clock ticked to nine and she laced her trusted shoes back up to go downstairs. She immediately analyzed everything about herself and everything she ever did. Was she smart? Was she nice enough? Was she cute enough? Was she enough? She didn't have much social experience other than with adults and with kids way younger than her…what if they thought she was weird?

Next thing she knew, Charlotte stood outside Miss Johnson's office for the third time that day. Leaning up against the wall facing the office, she returned to her breathing. It was a method she learned online as with a lot of things she knew. Counting slowly to three on the inhale…and to five on the exhale. But her mind still ran. And ran, and ran, and ran…

In the brief moment the headmistress stepped outside, the woman was checking over her nervous fiancée. They had both talked about this decision for months but were not immune to the jitters. Their relationship had been rocky and adding a kid to the picture would smooth anything over.

“Come here,” the woman whispered to the man, who stared straight ahead as his knee bounced relentlessly. She leaned over and adjusted his lapel, smoothing it out. “You do want to impress her, right?”

“Yes,” he bit back without looking at her, swiftly covering up his own nerves as he had learned to do so well growing up. “But I don’t want to look like father business, honey!” In their silent connection the woman knew exactly what he was referring to. He despised his father and the fact that he grew up, for the most part, without one. Without his knowledge, his thoughts mirrored those of the girl outside; he feared the worst. He feared he wouldn’t be enough.

“Hey,” the woman asserted, setting aside her own anxiety to try to quell that of the man next to her. She leaned over once again and gingerly placed a hand on the cheek facing away from her, pulling his face toward her. “She’s not going to think you’re like your dad,” she assured. She kissed him on the cheek closest to her and let him go as the door creaked back open behind them.

"Charlotte?" Charlotte's head shot up as Miss Johnson stuck her head only out of the office door and into the hallway as if she was going to ask a password before allowing entry. "Please come in."

Nodding slowly, Charlotte stepped forward and paused with your eyes softly closed for just a half second to regain her composure before the moment of truth. Miss Johnson closed the door behind her, and there was the couple from New York sitting at the desk. The woman sat, stretched up tall with perfect posture, styled in a white suit perfectly pressed and contoured to her shape. Her skin glowed as much as her light hair. The man next to her wore a dark suit with light stripes, a pale blue dress shirt, and a navy tie. His hair was dark and slightly unkempt yet still fitting the rest of his look. Large sunglasses covered his face. She knew her. She knew him. It couldn’t be. No way. But it was.

"Hi, Charlotte," the man said as they both stood. He slipped off his glasses and stuck out his hand, finally introducing himself. "I'm Tony Stark."

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