#woman completely ignores what i asked for and keeps pitching this brand new thing to me

[szif]

good day everybody except that jegypénztáros wbo tried to rámsózni egy vármegyebérletet

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Two: Truth

Author's note: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: allusions to sex, mention of trauma

Word count: 4,400>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Two - Next

"Can I help you?" you jumped when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You spun around on your heel, diverting your attention from the man on the television to the petite blonde girl who was doting a pale pink pant suit. Her blue eyes seemed friendly enough, but her expression of bewilderment and slight disdain was enough to make you uncomfortable. Your lips parted slightly as you tried to gather your words.

"I'm… I'm looking for someone," you said hesitantly. You turned back around to watch the television, pressing the palm of your hand against the screen and watching him with awe. You weren't sure if you were more flabbergasted by this brand new technology, or by the handsome man who was attempting to sell you oil.

"You're going to have to be more specific," the woman placed a hand on her hip and quirked her eyebrow.

"My friend Alistair…" you said slowly before shaking your head and smiling. "Do you know this man?" you pointed at the television.

The blonde woman looked completely and utterly perplexed. "Mr Lord?" she asked. Her mind was racing: everyone knew who her boss was. She pondered for a moment, questioning who exactly you were and where did you come from before shaking her head profusely. "Wait, I’m sorry. Did you just say Alistair?" she pinched the bridge of her nose and began to circle around you, taking in your appearance; judging your native Amazonian outfit and muddy skin.

"Yes, Alistair. We met in the park earlier," you explained. "Please excuse the dirt on my body."

"Mr Lord’s son��?" the lady said, speaking her thoughts out loud. No woman had ever come to Black Gold Cooperative requesting to see Alistair, note even his own mother. "Who are you?"

You smiled politely, taking the lady's hand. "I'm here to help. Where can I find Mr Lord?"

"Do you have an appointment with him?" the lady in pink asked, walking around the main desk and checking the computer. "I'm his secretary by the way. My name is Raquel." she mumbled as she pressed a few keys.

You introduced yourself and shook her hand, admiring her beautifully manicured nails. "An appointment?" you repeated. "No, not really. He doesn’t know I’m coming.”

“Mr Lord is a very busy man,” Raquel sighed, tapping her manicured acrylic nails against the oak wood desk. “He doesn’t do surprise visits.”

“That’s okay, I wish to see Alistair anyway. I must know if he’s okay.” your body was still rife with concern over what you had witnessed happen to the little boy earlier at the playpark, and how he had disappeared.

“There is no way for me to contact Alistair, he’s just a child… but uh, let me see what I can do.” Raquel sighed, knowing she wasn’t easily going to get rid of you anytime soon. “I can give Mr Lord a call and let him know you wish to see him,” she told you, ringing in his phone number. “Can I ask what your business with him is?”

“I’m here to help him,” you repeated with an eager grin.

“Right,” Raquel said slowly as you turned back to the television, admiring the man with the dark blonde hair, sporting the three piece designer suits. “Help him with what?”

You blinked momentarily, watching this Mr Lord drone on and on and on. “Oil.” you practically squeaked out.

“Oil?” Raquel questioned, not believing you for one minute. She had every right inkling to believe you were dangerous, but it was her job to contact Maxwell in this type of situation, no matter what. You squeezed your eyes shut almost sensing her disbelief when you heard her speak again. Her voice had changed completely, high pitched and almost articulated. “Oh, yes, hi! Mr Lord! There is someone here who wishes to see you.”

Thank the Gods he’d picked up the phone before Raquel could quiz you further.

Maxwell had answered from the car phone. He’d just dropped Alistair off at Julianna and Theodore’s home. It was never fun, having to go see his wife. He wanted to be strong, and he certainly wanted to keep his promise to Alisitar, about spending the whole weekend together - but there was too much at stake. He knew that deep down, Alisitair would understand one day. Maxwell cursed himself for messing up so quickly. The phone rang just as Maxwell slid back into the car. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Max huffed a sigh and held the phone to his ear. “Who is it?” Maxwell asked wearily. “If it’s the FBI or the FTC…”

Maxwell was nervous. He was even confused that Raquel was still at Black Gold, still happy to work for him after he did commit what potentially could be classified as war crimes. Maxwell was a realist and he knew that with every action, came a consequence. The world had never been kind to him, and he looked down at the envelope that Theodore had handed to him. His name, Maxwell Lorenzano, was written on the front in Julianna’s perfectly inked calligraphy. Max hated it. He didn’t have his name legally changed fifteen years ago just so his ex wife could throw his old identity back in his face. He hated his real name. It was a constant reminder of his past life. But now he didn’t know what was worse, being a Lord or a Lorenzano. The name Lorenzano had been tainted for him, by his family, and years of bullying. But the name Lord? He’d tainted that himself. A conman. A stupid, messed up loser. Julianna hadn’t wanted to see Maxwell, and instead sent her new boyfriend to collect Alistair from him.

“Julianna wants you to have this,” Theodore said with a frown, taking Alistair’s hand and pulling him away from Maxwell. “When you read through it, give her a call.” was all he said before slamming the front door in Max’s face. Max didn’t know what was inside the envelope, but he knew it couldn’t be good.

“No, it’s not the FBI or the FTC. It’s a woman,” Raquel said hesitantly. “She… she’s a bit odd,” Raquel whispered, but not quiet enough for it to go unnoticed by you. Nevertheless, you pretended to ignore her comment. Perhaps you were odd, and perhaps that was okay. The world of man was not something you were used to. But you were here for a reason. The delay in Maxwell’s response prompted Raquel to say more. “Mr Lord… I don’t think she’s going to leave without seeing you. Would you like me to call the cops?”

“No!” Maxwell practically barked. He turned on the engine of his car and held the phone between his ear and shoulder, reversing out of the driveway. He didn’t know what was going on, it was too early to tell - but Maxwell couldn’t have the police anywhere near Black Gold. There was a good chance the police might be looking for him anyway. There was a good chance Max believed he might even have to go into hiding. “I’m on my way.” Maxwell promised before putting the phone down.

You turned back to Raquel when you heard the phone click back onto the hook. “Well, he’s coming,” she shrugged. “Just take a seat please. He won’t be long.”

You walked over to the centre of the lobby where there was a long circular velveteen sofa with a silver foiled surface. You ran your finger over the material, savouring the soft feeling. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. You let out a small gasp when you noticed your gladiator sandals had trailed in mud and made a mess of the pristine marble floor. You knew it wouldn’t take much to clean, but you still felt bad.

The lobby of Black Gold Cooperative was large, with pillars similar to what they’d have in the Themysciran palace back home and vases of white roses decorating every corner. You wiped down your skirt and tunic, not wanting to be responsible for any more mess, and sat down on the sofa. You groaned as the velveteen plush engulfed you. You couldn’t help it, Raquel was gone and you were exhausted after spending the day looking for Alistair. You hummed in contentment, unbuckling the leather straps on your shoes and laying down on the sofa, curling up and closing your eyes.

Everything was dull. The sky was grey, dark and rainy clouds casting a cold shadow over your shoulders. This was weird. Normally your dreams would be utter and complete blackness - the inability to see anything, only hear the chaos that surrounded you. Only hear the cries and pleas for help and terror - and his voice. The man you were soughting for. You wondered if upon venturing to the world of man, your premonitions had stopped. But that didn’t make any sense. You were one step closer to finding this mystery man.

In the distance, you saw a group of kids tormenting and teasing another little boy. The image reflected what you had seen earlier at the playpark with Alistair, but it was different children this time. “What are you wearing?” you heard one boy mock as you ran closer. “Look at your shoes! Little Lorenzano can’t even afford new shoes!” a different girl cackled.

Lorenzano. You stopped dead in your footsteps, your eyes widening as you watched the group of kids disband, leaving the little boy with glazed brown eyes and ripped clothes shaking with fear. Lorenzano was the name of the man you were looking for - the man you had to help. Your mother Hestia had helped you learn that, but you had never seen him before. This Lorenzano was just a child. There was no way he could have a son.

You took a deep breath and reached out. “Sweet boy?” you called, taking a cautious step forward. Little Lorenzano didn’t even flinch. “Hello?” you asked again. You got as close as you could to him, walking around in circles and taking in his appearance, but he didn’t even notice you. It was almost like he couldn’t see you.

That’s when you realised you weren’t in a dream. You were in a memory. And suddenly everything made sense. This broken little boy was in fact the same person you were looking for. But now, he was a broken man who was desperately trying to make things right. Desperately trying to turn his life around. You’d seen a fleck of his past and you wondered if he was anything like that now. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you had to find him.

There was no way of telling how long you were asleep for, but when you heard Maxwell Lord’s voice, you couldn’t distinguish it from your dream or reality. It was so familiar, so rich and articulate.

“Jesus Christ,” Maxwell muttered, pacing backwards and forwards before turning back to you and prodding a finger into your bare arm. “Wake up.” he said sternly, his voice a little louder than before. You yawned, bringing your hands up to your eyes and giving them a gentle rub before sitting up and looking at the man.

It was him. The same man you had seen on the television. Only there was something not that right. You couldn’t put your finger on it. You grinned, your eyes gleaming with delight as you stood up and cupped your hands around his face, squeezing his cheeks and getting as close as you could. You touched him and maneuvered his body in different ways, lifting his arms up and brushing down his shoulders. He was broader than any Amazonian woman, and that said a lot. Surprisingly, Maxwell became putty in your grip. He would’ve never have expected it, but he just let you mould him and sculpt him in any which way you pleased. You traced his skin with your fingers, taking in every detail. It was certainly the man from the television - but this version of Maxwell Lord looked more tired and disheveled. His hair wasn’t perfectly styled and he wasn’t fitted into a perfectly pressed suit. But he was still just as remarkable and there was something about his presence that simply took your breath away.

He could say the same about you, too. He was completely stunned by you. Your beauty was incomparable to anyone else he’d ever seen. You almost looked out of this world. He was quick to shrug off his fascination with you, boiling it down to the fact you were covered in dirt and dressed in the strangest costume. He had more important things to worry about… like Alistair and whatever was in that damn envelope Theodore had given him.

“You’re a man,” you whispered in disbelief.

“I- what?” Maxwell asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“A real man,” you gasped, running your fingers through his dark blonde hair. Maxwell had to push back a longing groan, as your touch went straight to his semi-hard and already throbbing manhood. He gulped, diverting his gaze from your beautiful eyes.

“Do I- do I not look like a real man?” he asked curiously, ignoring the shudder that felt like it was swallowing him whole.

“Themyscrian depictions of man illustrate a strong, tall, muscular fellow who carries a sword and shield,” You explained, biting your lip and placing the palm of your hand over his chest. You could feel his beating heart under your touch and it almost took your breath away. You dragged your hand down to the curve of his tummy and Maxwell felt his cheeks heat up with insecurity. He never let anyone touch him like this. “They were naked too.”

Maxwell practically choked on his own tongue. That comment alone was enough to get him to step back and raise his hands up defensively.

“Well princess, I won’t be getting naked for you anytime soon, that’s for sure.” He chuckled nervously.

You smiled. “Princess? No no, I’m not a princess,” you giggled before introducing yourself. “I’m the goddess of home and hearth.”

Maxwell gulped before bursting into a fit of laughter. He looked around the office lobby, his movements quick and stressed. “Right, where’s the camera?”

“The- the camera?” you asked, confused.

“Is this for TV? Come on, tell me quickly. It’s a practical joke… right? You’re here, in my office, covered in dirt and in the most ridiculous clothes I’ve ever seen. And you say all these weird words like Themysciran - whatever that means, and you’re telling me you’re the goddess of home and… hearth?” he said almost quizzically. “You’re the crazy woman who stole Alistair away from me at the playpark earlier.”

So Raquel was right. He really was Alistair’s father. “Hey!” you frowned at his accusations. You hadn’t lied to him once. “You weren’t where Alistair left you. You disappeared and I was helping him find you!” you shot back, feeling an anger bubble inside of you.

“I don’t know where you come from princess, but here in America, you don’t just go round stealing people’s kids. That’s like, a federal offence.” Maxwell shouted, wiggling his finger in the air. “Jesus, where do you come from?”

You defensively crossed your arms over your chest, his yelling making you feel vulnerable. You could tell that he was clearly already under a lot of stress but he had no reason to take it out on you. “Themyscira.” you told him calmly.

He scrunched up his face in disdain. "There it is again. Them-a-what-now?"

"Themyscira." you said, this time making conscious effort to say it slower and clearer.

"With all due respect darling, I've travelled the world. I've been to many different places. I spent my adolescence studying a map of the world and never in my life have I heard of such a place." Maxwell shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm not here to prove anything to you, Mr Lord. But I find your attitude towards me to be quite upsetting." you revealed, looking back at the revolving doors you came in. There was a deafening silence that filled the room.

"Why are you here?" Maxwell snapped eventually with a huff. You swallowed as he stalked over to you, his gaze not breaking from you once. There was something primal in his walk. "Why… are you… here?"

He wished he could ignore the distracting erection in his pants. He didn't even know you. You were just a random girl who had come into his office demanding to see him, refusing to leave until he came. You were just a random girl who had got close with him, who had touched his face and dragged your hand down his body. Who… talked about naked men. Truthfully, Maxwell had never been with a woman who was quite like you, but things were starting to make sense for him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he were to just take you up to his private office.

Your throat felt dry and for the first time, you couldn't fathom words. His honeyed brown eyes were now dark and lust blown as he raised his hand to caress your cheek. You didn't even realise the way you subconsciously moved your face further into his hold and a wicked smirk crossed his lips. His hand was large and warm and his touch filled you with a sense of protection you didn't even think you needed. "Oh," Maxwell chuckled darkly. "I know what you want from me."

"You do?" you asked timidly, not even realising the hold he had you under. For a second, you'd forgotten why you were even here. You were so taken in by Max. You were feeling things you had never felt in your life for this man who had been haunting your every thought. He was so close to you, his breath fanned over your skin and you felt a sensation erupt between your legs. His presence was intoxicating, and he could say the same about you.

"But I can't," Maxwell shook his head, his gaze falling to your lips before dropping his hand from your face and taking a step back. He cleared his throat and looked away awkwardly, moving his hand down to his crotch trying to hide his arousal from you. "I… I should go."

There was an immediate feeling of guilt that washed over Maxwell. He'd gained reputation in the past for sleeping with women, namely his assistants and secretaries, and not shown them a slither of affection or care. He was a selfless lover and he could get away with it because he was rich, famous and attractive. But now he was none of those things. When he looked at himself in the mirror before heading to the playpark, his own appearance knocked him sick. The stress wrinkles setting in his forehead, the dark circles around his eyes… and he hadn't showered in a week. His hair was a mess and he couldn't even bring himself to check a whiff of his underarms. He didn't know you, but he sure as hell knew you deserved better than a man like him.

You were bright eyed, polite, and curious about the world around you. Not only that, you had demanded to see Maxwell just because you wished to check on his son and make sure he was okay. You had gotten very close to Max and not said a word about his bad hygiene or his tired eyes, instead, you looked at him with hope and admiration. Almost as if you believed that he could become a better man.

"Wait!" you called, reaching your hand out before Maxwell could walk away. "I'm sorry if- I'm sorry if this wasn't a good conversation for you. I've never spoken to a man before."

Maxwell titled his head and quirked an eyebrow. "You intrigue me," he admitted, pursing his lips slightly. His gaze fell from your face to the circle of rope attached to your belt. It didn't take long before he realised what it was— but no, it couldn't be. "What is that?" Maxwell asked, pointing at the rope as fear dripped from his tongue. He even took a few steps back.

You unravelled the rope and held it out for him to see. "This is the lasso of Hestia, it was my mother's. She gave it to me before I left for the world of man. Only two were made and this— this is the last one," you smiled a tearful smile at the memory of your mother. Diana had taken the other lasso, as well as the sword of Athena, back in 1918. "My mother Hestia is the goddess of Truth. And the lasso of Hestia compels any individual it uses to see the truth, or speak it," There was no telling what the expression on Maxwell's face showed. You frowned. "You still don't believe me, do you?"

The lasso had initiated a trauma response in Maxwell as you turned it on. He watched it glow yellow, the same yellow that Diana's lasso had glowed when she wrapped it around his ankle in the island bunker. He remembered her words; "See the truth." and his heart sank into the depths of his chest. That's when he saw Alistair.

Maxwell had always thought Diana Prince was strange. Ever since she told him she didn't own a TV— because who in the 1980s didn't own a TV? And who would deny a free 19 inch TV from Sears? But when she had followed him to Cairo with her pilot boyfriend and caused nothing but chaos in her red, blue and gold superhero outfit, he knew she was special. That she possessed powers. This was later reaffirmed in The White House, and then in the bunker as Maxwell tried to plot world domination and grant wishes to every citizen.

He looked at you behind all the mud and dirt, and he looked into your eyes. Could it be true? Could you be telling the truth? What if you were like Diana? Would he really want to be around someone like you?

Maxwell took a huff of air and wrapped the lasso around his wrist. You watched him, letting him do so. "Prove it." Max swallowed the lump in his throat that he hadn't even realised was there. You looked at him with hesitancy before nodding your head. If this worked, he has no reason not to believe you. A magical lasso… and it wasn't the first he had seen.

"What do you wish to see?" you asked Maxwell, your voice quiet. You didn't detach your gaze from his eyes once.

"Do you see what I see?" He asked, and you nodded your head in affirmation. Maxwell thought for a second, before remembering you had come all this way to Black Gold Cooperative just to see Alistair. At first, there was something deeply unsettling about it… but your presence made Maxwell feel safe. "Show me my son."

You closed your eyes and Maxwell followed your actions, and it wasn't long before your vision was clouded by the image of Alistair in his bedroom at Julianna and Theodore's house. Sitting at a desk, he was humming a song. Maxwell couldn't help but smile, recognising the song from the video game Alistair played with him earlier in the day. With an array of colourful crayons, he intricately sketched a drawing of a man with messy yellow hair and a tie, holding the hand of a smaller boy with black hair holding a teddy bear. He labelled the drawing ‘me and daddy’.

"Alistair sweetheart," Julianna called, peeking her head through the door that stood slightly ajar. "Dinner is ready," Alistair didn't look up once, continuing to rub pink crayon into his paper. "What are you drawing there?" Julianna asked, slipping into her son's bedroom and peering over his shoulder and the drawing.

"Me and daddy," Alistair mumbled, only half listening. He was too busy concentrating on adding the purple detailing on his daddy's socks.

"Oh sweetie, I told you that maybe, sometime, you could draw yourself and Theodore? You know, since he's your father too. He does so much for you Alistair, he takes you out to the movies, takes you to your piano lessons… he's a good guy," Julianna smiled, ruffling her son's hair. She pressed her finger into the yellow haired stick man wearing purple socks. "He's not a good guy."

Alistair furrowed his eyebrows, dropping the crayon to the paper and turning to face his mother. "My daddy is my hero." Alistair told his mother, his brown eyes wide and full of love.

Julianna didn't say a word. She stiffened up, standing tall and glared at her son's drawing. Her stare was so intense, you wondered if she was about to eject lasers from her eyes and set the paper on fire.

"Go eat your dinner." She finally said coldly, her words dripping with malice before barging out Alistair's bedroom.

The lasso of truth unravelled itself from Maxwell's wrist and you curled it back into your holster, clipping it in place on your belt. You looked up and noticed the tears that were pricking Maxwell's eyes.

"You- you probably shouldn't have seen all of that," Maxwell admitted, his voice croaking slightly as he tried to hold himself back from becoming a sobbing mess. "I'm not a hero."

You reached out and took the hand of the big-name businessman who was standing before you on the verge of tears. His hand was big, cold, and his fingers were calloused. You took him in both of your hands and rubbed soothing circles into his skin, desperately trying to provide him with warmth and comfort. His glazed brown eyes looked up at you with bewilderment as he wondered why you were being so nice to him. He was a monster, he deserved every bad consequence that would be coming for him. And yet, you treat him like a human. Even at the height of his career when he lived in riches and luxury, nobody had treated him with the politeness and love you were currently giving him — and you were a stranger. A stranger who was covered in mud with a magic lasso.

"Maybe you are a hero."

—-—-—

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[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Summary :

The awkward flirting ensues on their second date. Served with a pinch of angsty heart to heart and a non-graphic spicy scene to keep it PG.

Sequel to Aaron is a Cute Name

Sequel to this Not Now, But Someday

Click title to read on ao3. Click keep reading to read on tumblr~

Words : 10k

Do you want to go on a date this weekend?

Chris dropped his phone to his marble floor. Almost dropping his chia bowl to join it.

Then he screamed. High-pitched and throaty like a pterodactyl. No, not because he just dropped his brand new Apple phone, but because Aaron just asked him on a date just two days after their first date. 

Chris is still reeling at the feeling of his cute first initiation of a kiss, and now he’s asking him on a date? How bold! And so eager, this man either interested or literally going after his life. Dare he says that Aaron also likes him too?

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” Chris chanted as he bends down to grab his phone and stare at his message.

There’s no way he’s replying now, not when he’s aware that he’s generating big dumb energy. Dumb shit happens when he’s on dumb bitch mode, and he needs to direct this energy to the same associate.

‘I just got a text back from the cute agent he’s asking for a second date this weekend ajsnhacdk’

Perfect. Send.

‘Haily’ glares on the screen, an incoming call.

“BIIIIIIITCH WHAT?” the woman screamed, thankfully, Chris already hangs his phone farther from his ear as he picks it up.

“I know!” Chris replied with the same excitement.

“Wow, Chris. Years I’ve been your partner and you never got any hot action, and now I’m on a honeymoon I’m missing everything!... No, honey, it’s Chris... He just hooked up with a guy!... Yeah I know right?” faintly Chris can hear Jim, Haily’s newlywed husband, congratulate him.

“Wait wait wait whoa, I’m not hooking up with him!” Chris cleared, “We’re just going on dates I guess, and I’m his first guy, so like... I’m taking it slow with him.”

“But he kissed you first right?”

“K-Kinda, he initiates and I gave the final push.”

“Okay? Just be careful with the bicurious alright? We all know and experienced what happened with my 2013 incident.”

Chris shivers, “Yeah, no need to tell me twice.” Chris looks down to his feet, covered with deep blue and black-tipped socks. There are a few drops of milk on his shirt making him groan internally, he’ll need to change before he goes to work.

“What’s wrong, Chrissy?” Haily asked after a long pause.

“I really like him, Hay. I don’t know... I just feel like... you know? Really really like him. Am I losing my marbles or what's going on?”

“You’re just whipped, dude.”

“Oh no, already?”

“You know I’m on your side, right?” Haily points out, “I was there when you gone in and out of love with everyone across the board. This is the first time you’re this excited over a date, and you know I’m happy for you! Like fucking finally!”

“I know.”

“If this one last, you better introduce me to him. He’ll gonna need my stamp of approval before he gets to marry you.”

“Yeah duh, Jim had mine, of course, I need your stamp, it’s only the law.” Chris looks at his wrist. Well shit, he’s not gonna be able to change his shirt.

“Gotta go Hay, love you doll! Have a great honeymoon!”

“I’ll see you Monday baby!”

Chris put his phone on his pocket and bolt with his bowl because he’s not gonna waste expensive organic chia seeds, completely forgetting that he left Aaron on read.

++++++

Chris left him on read for 8 hours now, and Aaron tried to not think about it too much. Keyword: tried to.

It doesn’t help that he’s not on any case for the rest of the week, so he’s been writing reports all day. He caught himself spacing out instead of his papers for a number of times he’s not proud of. It’s not his age to feel this bothered over someone leaving him on read. There must be a logical reason why Chris does so.

Their first date goes well. There’s nothing to worry about. Chris will reply sooner or later. If he’s interested in a second date, they’ll go. If Chris is not interested, then they’ll go on with their lives. Like a hook tugging in, Aaron noticed reeling in that there’s a possibility of disinterest on Chris’ behalf.

In that split moment, he felt his age, job, and life on the scale of consideration.

“You’ve been staring at that page for 10 minutes,” A comment of Reid Spencer delivered by Derek Morgan. The agent stood by the door frame with a worried look on his face.

“It’s nothing,” Hotch dismissed.

“Last time you said that you collapsed with your stab wound reopened.”

It was a habit to dismiss his condition, but this matter really is just... petty and nothing.

“It’s about Chris.”

Morgan knits his arched eyebrows, “What about him?” His voice stern and defending.

Though Hotch feels flattered by his intention to protect him –and he’s not the only one to do so– they really shouldn’t be this worried over him. Well, if that’s so, then Hotch shouldn’t be this worried over a read message.

“I just asked him on another date, and he left me on read. Really it’s nothi-”

“Pfft,” Morgan held his laugh with lips pressed tight and curled. Hotch glares at Morgan who’s having a hard time holding back his laugh.

“No need to rub salt on my wound Morgan.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry, okay it’s all valid and all, I just don’t expect you to do that too.” Morgan walks in and sits across Hotch’s desk.

“I didn’t tell you to sit.”

“Okay, first of all,” Morgan started, ignoring his boss, “It’s normal to feel restless over these things.”

“I know, Morgan.”

“Especially since he’s your first guy.”

“How do you even know that?”

“It shows, man,” Morgan shrugged, “I’m here if you wanna ask about that stuff, ya know?”

“Was Reid your first too?”

“Nah, I was Reid’s.”

“I see.”

“So I can tell you about Chris’s perspective.”

“That’s... actually could be helpful.” Hotch doesn’t believe he’s saying that too, and how Morgan is offering it. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous with Chris. He didn’t feel like this with Beth. “I don’t want to screw this one up, Morgan,” He found himself saying.

It caught the agent off guard. The weight of Hotch’s words settles down on him, and gone were his playful bearings. Both of them have been a team for years. Morgan, along with a few people that still stay on the team, has been there with him through all his relationships. The beautiful start and how it ends.

How it all always ends.

“Okay, layin’ it a bit too heavy on the first swing there uh, what else does he make you feel?”

Hotch takes in a deep breath, “It just feels so easy. He’s not pushing me, I’m the one that pushes. I’m free-falling, and I’m enjoying it...”

“And it scares you that you feel that way?” Morgan completed. The perk of having profiler friends, they know.

He nods, solemnly, looking down at his clasped hands on top of his last report of the day.

“Wow, all of that after one date?” Morgan flashes his playful smirk.

“I don’t know why either.” Hotch smiles back, just as pleasantly surprised as Morgan does.

“Look man, don’t worry too much. Let yourself be happy and not worry about the what if’s. He seems like a good guy, fun too. If you like him then I trust your judgment of him.”

“Thank you, he is the type of person that balances me. I surprise myself how much I look forward to seeing him again, but there is a possibility that... he might not want to see me again.”

“Oh c’mon, you don’t know that.”

“Just a possibility Derek.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t, you move on.”

“Yes, but I want it to work.”

Morgan raises his eyebrows, mouth agape, “Wow, Hotch... I need to meet the guy who made you his whipped.”

Just as Hotch about to ask what ‘whipped’ means, his phone vibrates. Like on cue, Kristianto Hamlyn glares across Hotch’s phone. Hotch raises his phone and gives a look to Morgan, who understands and leaves with a knowing smile.

“Aaron Ho-”

“I’m so sorry!” Chris’s voice almost deafens Hotch’s right ear. “I saw your message today, and I was... I...um... wait.” Chris cleared his throat. “It caught me off guard and I tucked my phone in because I was late for work,” his voice sounded calmer and stoic, like reading a script.

“Really?” Hotch teased, knowing that’s not the full story.

“Yeah, totally, haha,” Hotch can imagine the detective on his desk with a shy expression on his face, looking down at messy paperwork rowed and stacked there, just like what he’s doing now. “So, this weekend huh?”

“Are you available?”

“Totally! I wanna go to your town!”

“Sure, I’ll show you around this time, any preference?”

Chris paused for a few seconds, then said softly, “I don’t really have any, as long as you’re the one showing me around.” Chris cleared his throat again, “Um, and good food.”

“My yelp game is not as strong as you, but I do know my way around.”

“Oh god, that’s so... that’s so out of character of you! I wish I get to see your face saying ‘yelp game’,” Chris laughed heartily, and Hotch wished he’s there to see Chris does so.

+++++

Date day. Chris has so many things to wear but he none to choose from. It’s edging to fall, so he covers his salmon shirt with a maroon leather jacket and compliment the look with dark jeans and boots. He looks like a biker, a bad boy, the type of rebels that he arrested. He rocked the look, as quoted from Haily. He couldn’t even ride a bicycle. A shame that he’ll never tell anyone beside Haily.

His fingers feel kind of... vibrating? Just like when it’s 9 pm and he’s on his 5 th cup of coffee.

Just a date.

It’s just a date.

Like, whatever, right?

Chris would’ve laughed at himself if he’s not frozen over at the sight of Aaron, standing by the entrance of the cultural market in casual wear. The shirt he wears isn’t sinfully tight, but it complements the outline of his body, broad, sturdy, kinda like a brick and tall. Though he knows that they’re roughly the same height, but that and a tall impression left a different feel to it. He lowly hums at the sight of those legs wrapped in slim-fit dark blue trousers, topped with a leather belt and black oxfords. Light olive shirt tucked into the pants doing his body the justice it deserves. For extra damage, Aaron rolled the sleeves to his elbows.

Chris loved Aaron is his clean-cut suits, but now he hated what those suit had deprived him of.

“Hello? I don’t mind the stare but, I’m more than just a pretty face to admire on.” Aaron is looking at him, holding back a smile, and Chris felt embarrassed for staring at him from 10 meters away.

“Someone’s been practicing their lines!” Chris approaches meekly with a nervous laugh. What is he doing? He’s cooler than this, c’mon. He straightened his back, and flash his smooth playboy smile. “You just look really good.” Nice. He pats himself in the back for that one.

“You too,” Aaron says back.

“Seems fun in there,” Chris noted, looking behind Aaron. It’s a parking lot for the stadium looming over this area filled with street vendors, art vendors, food and random knick-knacks. They’re standing a bit further from the entrance but Chris can smell some hearty delicious curry and the beast inside his stomach roared.

“They’re here every weekend, I figured you like things like this.”

“Oooh, did it came with your profile?”

Aaron kind of leans back. Kind of. Everything Aaron does is always done subtlety and elegance like he’s controlling his reaction, so Chris has to look closely.

“It’s a guess,” Aaron shrugged, looking like he had done something wrong.

“Oh, c’mon I want to know what your profile says about me!”

“You sure? Some people might think it’s invading their space.”

“I can see why, but I dunno, you guys are like psychics to me. It’s cool! Like a Buzzfeed quiz telling me my mental state of mind by my choice of shampoo... or something like that.”

Aaron chuckled, oh, Chris is never getting tired of that. “We’ve been called a lot of names, but this is the first time someone compared us to a personality quiz.”

Chris wonders how long will it be until he’s immune to Aaron’s laughs. But now he enjoys it fully with all the butterflies and the blushing.

They walk around the market. First stop, lunch. They eat chicken green curry standing up beside the truck. They look at art vendors varying from paintings, pots and little miniatures. Then buying little snacks as they walk and talk and look around. Once or twice Chris would get distracted at cool pretty things and comment on it. Some vendors would greet Aaron, he said that he frequents coming here in the morning for groceries.

They were walking peacefully, still edging away from personal topics, until... a cat sculpture caught Chris’ eyes.

“Stop.” Chris holds out his hand in front of Aaron and thankfully the agent stops abruptly without spilling his ice cream.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to have that!” Chris says a little louder than average. Even the artist that sits behind the tables full of her works is startled when Chris points at the cat.

After downing the last of his boysenberry milkshake, Chris runs to the vendor and crouches down to look at the cat sculpture closer. It’s made of clay. Shaped like a fat and amazingly smooth upside-down egg with two triangles on the top as ears. An absolute unit. It’s painted as a black cat with neon yellow eyes. White painted on the tips on its ears and the tail’s tip on the back. And the expression, so smug and all-mighty. Even though the cat is below him and only as long as his forearms, the expression painted on the cat’s face is the look of God looking down on humanity’s downfall like Jersey Shore while eating popcorn.

Chris has to have it.

“Good day mam! Is this your work?” Chris says with wide and suspiciously excited eyes. But in the interest of her work, the artist glows in the same excitement.

“Why yes!”

“Then take my money!”

And took it she did.

Near the end of the day, they settle on the park bench eating more snacks as the sky dims with the sun on the way setting.

“You were really excited about the clay cat,” Aaron noted, biting into his second taco.

There’s burrito filling on his cheeks, preventing Chris from speaking. He chews faster to reply, “It looked like my... uh, my foster dad’s cat.”

“Oh, you’re a foster?”

“Yup, I’ve been in and out of foster homes since I was young, I think.”

“You think?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hm, did you ever get adopted?” Aaron thread lightly.

“Nope. The last place I live in before taken by my foster dad was kind of fucked up. I was seventeen when the police bust the church, and I was taken in by one of the officers. His name’s Matty, Matty Matheson. Man, what a guy he was.” Chris prayed to the darkening light gray-blue sky.

“He’s such a blast. Thought me how to cook, how to be carefree and just enjoy life, you know? Despite everything.” Chris stops there, he’s not ready for the rest, and Aaron blissfully doesn’t press on. Aaron doesn’t express any distinctive emotions, but his eyes are on Chris, focused, yet has no pressure.

“I wasn’t his only rescue.” Chris continued, “He had Rosco when I came. A black cat with white tips,” Chris pats on the cat statue wrapped in a box and brown bag between them.

“Must’ve been a good cat.”

“Oh, no. She was a bitch. She would hiss even when I look at her. Then she had the audacity to zoom onto my path and hissed when I accidentally touched her!” Chris corrected and saw how Aaron paused unsurely. “But I remembered when she acted sweet one day. I was still in my early years of living with Matty and I was crying myself to sleep pretty regularly. Usually, Matty could cheer me up instantly but he was on night shift that day. She then crawled up to my bed and sleep on my foot. Don’t know why she did that but, since then she always sleeps by the foot of the bed. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s entitled though, she would bite me when I accidentally kick her in my sleep.”

“Do you think she knows that you need her?”

“Hm, I don’t know, cats are weird.”

“Wouldn’t have known, I’ve only had dogs.”

“Dang, I’ve wanted a dog once too. Do you have one?” Chris wished Aaron say yes just so he can demand dog pics next.

“I can’t. I’m away a lot. Sometimes I need to be ready in an hour to fly over for a case.” There’s a defeated look in Aaron’s expression, but he still smiles that soft little boat like curve.

“Aw, that sucks.”

“What about you? Do you have a cat?

“Kind of, but I would feel guilty of leaving a cat at home so much. Maybe when I retire.”

“Hm, that’s a nice plan.”

Then they take a breather, pausing comfortably as they look around. The park lights are on even though there’s still light left on the darkening sky. Chris got here at 1 PM, he checked his watch and isn’t really surprised that it’s a little bit past 5 pm. Closing the end of the year, daylight is shorter. Now that he’s thinking of the end of the year...

“Hey, Aaron?”

“Yes?”

“You have plans for Thanksgiving? Going back to your folk’s place?” Chris baited, hopeful that he didn’t step on his toe.

“I don’t have a lot of immediate families and I’m not really close with my extended family. My parents died a long time ago, so I only have a brother now and again, not close. The last time I spent it with my family was when I was still married, so... around 5 years ago.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s not a delicate subject. What about you?”

Well, it’s delicate for Chris, but Aaron opened up, it’s only fair that he does the same. “Got no folks left to eat dinner with.” He shrugged, a fact too old for him to be bothered to say, but he can see how Aaron’s expression shift to gloom. “Matty died in the field seven years after he takes me in. Since then I’ve been having thanksgiving with my partner, Haily. But she got married recently, so I bet she’ll have them at her in-laws. There’s always the office Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I have one too,” Aaron said. “If things turn to worse and we found ourselves alone in the holidays, we can always spend it together.”

only on their second date and Chris already got an invitation to spend the holidays together? Like whoa, hold up Lightning McQueen. Of course, Chris wants to, but hopefully, that’s not moving too fast, certainly not for Chris. And since Aaron is the one that suggested it, must’ve been a comfortable pace for him too, still...

“It’s only our second date, you really sure you want to spend your precious holidays with me?” Chris teased, hoping he’s not shooting himself on the dick.

“It’s only fair to spend my precious holidays with someone precious.”

If his heart can audibly scream, he would’ve deafened everyone at a two-block radius. Aaron just teased him back, and the audacity of that smirk!

“I see someone had practiced his lines, enough to earn a blush outta me,” Chris fights back, leaning closer till their shoulder touched.

“I had a great example,” Aaron looks deeply into Chris. He forgot how pretty Aaron’s eyes are, how dare he? “From this little cutie with deep blue eyes and shiny chocolate hair.”

Chris is destroyed by ‘little cutie’, “Aaaah! You win!” Chris leans back, covering his flushed face while Aaron laughed. The laugh that ended Chris once and for all.

How will he survive a relationship with this man?

Wait, will they be an item?

Suddenly, two dates are a date too many.

Chris is filled with the urge of not wanting to go home, but he knows he has to. They spent a half day together and it’s been fun and exciting even though he has to admit, Chris does most of the talking just because he generally talks a lot. Aaron seems to be having fun too. They opened up a little today, that’s a bonus.

Chris counts today’s date as a win.

They walk together to the subway and waits for Chris’s train.

“Have any plan for our third date?” Aaron asked, and Chris is way ahead of him.

“Oh, you bet I do. This time, I’m taking you where I think you’ll like.”

“Really? Did you profile me?” Aaron asked, amused.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve, just you wait.”

“I hope it’s nothing reserved. I wouldn’t want to have to cancel you last minute because of a case.”

“... welp, plan b!”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I’m kidding!” Chris exclaimed, bumping his shoulder with Aaron’s. He’s been doing that a lot today, he needs to stop. “C’mon, don’t be sorry for doing your job. What you do is awesome!” and dangerous, the kind that reduces your life at every brush of death. He red David Rossi’s book, and man, if that’s what Aaron is really going through for every mission, he wouldn’t sleep a wink.

But hey, what can you do? Aaron gotta do what Hotch gotta do.

“You wouldn’t be saying that after I cancel on our date 5 times in a row over a case. Today we’re just unbelievably lucky.”

“Hey, I think you’re just overestimating that,” Chris scoots closer and bumps his shoulder against Aaron’s, purposely this time. “We’ll see where this goes together.”

Aaron passed him a thankful smile as he returns the gesture, bumping up his heartbeat. “I have a lot of fun today,” he said with dark eyes looking up from the subway’s grimy tiles.

Chris tightened his hold on the cat sculpture on his arms, “Same here.”

A voice-over breaks their zone and a train passes through the tunnel, bringing the wind with it. Chris looks to the side where Aaron squints his eyes and hair blown slightly. Yup, he’s so dead.

“This is me,” Chris cocks his head to the slowed-down train in front of them, “Um, goodnight.”

Aaron steps forward and Chris hits the breakfast. An arm nest softly on Chris’ waist as Aaron leans in. Chris doesn’t give the last push this time, and Aaron lands his lips softly on top of his. In the languid paced movement, everything else seems to blur. Their body awkwardly apart, blocked by the clay cat between them. Chris takes a hand off the statue and put it on the back of Aaron’s neck, grazing the skin at the nape. When he breathes in, he smelt the salsa they ate with and the hint of woody perfume.

Who knows who leans back first, but when they did, the playful air they had is gone. Like realizing that they’ve stepped into a territory with a big red sign on the outside.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Aaron Hotchner,” Chris said in lieu of the state he’s in.

“I hope that’s not true, you promised me a date.” Aaron just chuckled and slid his hands off his back, “Go before you miss the train.”

Chris steps into the train reluctantly, waving to Aaron who still ever so sweetly smiles.

+++++

Aaron was not kidding about canceling their dates 5 times. They’ve planned a lot to meet up and Aaron has been canceling on him five times in a row in addition to Chris canceling on him once because he’s assigned on night watch. Chris wasn’t upset about it, though it’s sad that it’s so hard to meet him, it was at a point where it’s kind of entertaining. ‘Now I get to know what Lois Lane felt,’ he teased one day hoping it would make Aaron sound less sorry. It didn’t work, yet Chris tried anyway. ‘I’ll wait till the end of time, my dear.’ ‘Oh, those sickos, taking you away from me.’ ‘It’s okay, send me his face with my name carved on his face. Stay safe!’ The last one is super cringy and a failed attempt on his take of an Addams Family AU.

In return, they talked a lot on the phone, every time that they can spare. Aaron will call after he finished his case, and Chris would call whenever he misses him. Aaron can always reach him, but Chris can only be so lucky if the end of the call gets through.

It’s not until two months after their second date that they meet again. Now, they’re sitting on the bench right outside the emergency room, shoulder to shoulder. The waiting hall is quiet at 1 am, and the only other people waiting there is an elderly couple at the other end of the hall.

“So, there I was, reduced down to my flower boxers, modeling for a bunch of 70-year-olds that attempted to draw a semi-nude picture of me. When nurse Abigail came, I thought for sure she would put a stop to those cheeky seniors, but she just stood and enjoy the view too! The only light of this is one of the seniors was legit good at drawing and he gave the picture to me.”

Hotch rubbed his face, the corner of his lips peeking from his hand as his chest shakes. If they’re not in a hospital right now, he bet Hotch would’ve laughed louder.

“What other hobbies you hide from me besides intervening on seniors’ home gathering .”

“Excuse me, it was a volunteering gig, and it’s fun.” Chris huffed playfully, “They’re all really nice, it’s like having dozens of doting grandparents, and now I can knit.”

“I’m not surprised.” Aaron finally cheered up.

When Chris got the call, he rushed here even though he was just getting ready for bed. Hotch was in the middle of assisting the police to hunt a serial arsonist when his friend, and Chris’ idol, Rossi is shot on his stomach. It was supposedly a small case, so only Rossi and he was handling it. The rest of his team is on the other end of the US, all the way to Sacramento for another case. Aaron called just to have someone to talk to, or so he said. There was an argument when Chris insisted that it’s okay for him to come over. Yet when he arrived, Aaron greeted him with a silent hug and they talked about anything else.

All they can do now is wait while Rossi is in the ER.

It was concerning yet endearing to get a call from Aaron when he’s still Hotch. His team is like family, and Aaron is alone, waiting for a life and death procedure of what an equivalent as the eccentric sketchy yet suspiciously rich Italian Uncle.

“What made you want to pursue this career, Chris?” Hotch asked out of the blue.

“A detective?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, Matty did. I was a teen when Matty takes me in, but he inspires me a great deal. They said the job wears you down, that you’ll see the world and all the ugly behind the crime and feel like nothing will change. Never Matty. He stays positive even though he’s on the job for 30 years. The way he sees the world was beautiful and new to me, and since him, I don’t want to look at the world like how I did ever again. And I was pretty weak when I was a kid, so I want to become stronger and be in a power that can protect people. Because I can see what the police failed to see when I needed them then.”

It’s a good feeling to remember that better part down the memory lane. Whatever that had happened had led him to here. To meet Matty, Haily, and then Aaron.

Fingers laced between his and grips tight, “I’m glad you met him. I hoped I had the chance to meet him.”

Chris clasp his hand back, squeezing just as tight. His cheeks start to tingle, he just hoped it doesn’t show.

“Me too.” Chris looks away when he sees Aaron with his cheeky smile and the lights showing the deep olive hue in his eyes. “I’m hungry, you’ve eaten yet?”

“Not dinner.”

“I’ll get us some protein bars, and a warm coffee?”

“Yes please.”

Chris brought back 4 granola bars from the vending machine and two paper cups of warm watery coffee. Both of them groaned simultaneously at the horrible taste then chuckled. They chatted some more until Hotch starting to look sleepy by the look of his heavy eyelids trying so hard to open.

“You should go home, Chris.”

“No, I’ll accompany you until the doctor’s back.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” because Chris is worried. When he came, Hotch looks deathly worried, even now he looked paler than usual, which already look vampire pale in general. “You guys are so solid, you know that?” Chris stated out of the blue. “Even I feel it when you guys were back in DC. You got a dynamic like family on a mission.”

“That’s one way to put...” Hotch yawns, “...to put it.” Then he puts down his empty paper cup on the feet of the benches. Even after coffee, Hotch still lulls his head.

“Want to lay down?” Chris pats his shoulder, feeling a little bolder.

“Thank you,” he said, it got Chris thinking it’s a ‘no thank you’, but then, Hotch scoots a little and lay his head on Chris’s shoulder. He smells like an antiseptic soap, mint, sweat and somehow, gun powder. The weight of his head feels like a cat resting there, and his hair feels like prickly grass.

He’s so glad he wears his cushiony leather jacket today.

“Chris?” Hotch called, and he hums in reply, “Have you ever feel lonely in your own home?”

His breath stops for a split second. Maybe that’s why Hotch is here, he thought. With a feeling of melancholy, he leans his head on top of Aaron’s, hoping he’ll provide more comfort.

“Why do you think I spent my weekends volunteering in a senior home? If I’m lucky, some of them would think I’m their grandson, and I felt like I have a family. Even though the next time I cam there, most of them forgot about me.” Chris sighed a shuddering breath. He never admits that to anyone.

He’s bright, confident, and optimistic, it’s his brand. To gloom over it is not him, and telling it to Hotch who he only knows for two months is even so.

Aaron reaches for his hand and laces them together again, holding tightly as he buries his face even deeper to the crook of Chris’ neck.

Either Hotch is drowsy or he’s messing with him right now. Either way, Chris gladly slide his hands and intertwined his fingers with Hotch’s.

“My ex-wife and son were killed a few years ago.”

Chris choked on his own saliva, “Ack, oh... Oh my God.”

The Hotch has the audacity to chuckle, “I knew you’d react that way.”

“React what way? That’s... that’s awful Aaron, I-” Chrish is cut short by his sudden sob. He leans back and breathes in like he always does when he’s overwhelmed, and tried to calm down. Aaron needs him now.

“It’s a long time ago.”

“Does time even matter for things like that?” Chris cleared his throat and breathes out,  “It doesn’t go away. They’re either pushed away or they don’t age well.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Trauma.”

Aaron hums, “Are you speaking from experience?”

The question hits like a deadly jab, yet at the same time, Chris expected it. “Yes.”

“Then you’re right. It doesn’t age well. I was so used to calling home to talk to my son, on every different occasion. I was always busy, and my ex-wife got custody so he’s always with her. I always call after he’s on recitals, camp, holidays when I couldn’t see him, or even homework. Picking him up on the weekends are the things I looked forward to, then suddenly, I don’t have that anymore. I’ve been coming back to a quiet home for years, until you.”

“Until me, huh.”

It’s not his story yet it hurts to hear. Hurts to know how much he must’ve hurt. The only thing he could be happy about is how Aaron talks about it calmly like he had made peace with it.

Chris holds on to Hotch’s hand tighter, pressing his face on top of Hotch’s head and hide in his raven black hair.

Soon, Hotch fell asleep on his shoulder while Chris stays up and wait for the doctor to come out of the ER.

+++++

It was almost midnight when Hotch finally finished with his reports and heads home. As he just makes himself comfortable in his car, his private phone rings. Chris.

“Hi.”

“Hey, hot stuff.” Chris doesn’t sound so hot.

“How are you?”

“A-okay, I just wanna hear your voice.”

“Chris.”

A pause. Seconds ticks away. Then a defeated sigh.

“I swear it’s nothing. I’m just... it’s just uh, I just want to talk.”

“What is it?” Aaron leans back on his seat, “Nothing’s too minor, you told me that.”

“Pulling a reverse card like that is not fair,” so he said, yet with an amused tone in his voice.

“I got no card left on my hand.”

Chris sighed, “I get like this sometimes.”

“Like what?”

“Like I don’t belong in my own home, in my own skin, you know?” It’s the first time that Chris sounded vulnerable, troubled. Aaron never hears him like this, yet it’s not surprising or completely foreign.

With a tightened squeeze on his phone, Aaron says, “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Oh...” Chris paused. “I’m sorry. It feels terrible.”

“It is.” Aaron mused, then smiled as he popped an idea, "Want me to come over?”

“W-Wh... Wait, um... really?” it’s the highest tone Chris hits so far. “I, Yeah! But you just got back.”

“I got my go-bag, I’m ready to sleepover at your place.”

“Wait... you’re sleeping over?!”

“Unless you don’t want me-”

“I want to! I’ll send you the location but I have to tidy up now okay bye babe.” Then Chris hangs up abruptly.

Aaron mouthed with a smile, “Babe?”

.-.-.-.-.

“Hi babe,” Aaron leers as soon as the door is open. Chris immediately groans with a furious blush on his face.

“It slipped okay?” Chris steps sideways to let Aaron in.

“Didn’t say I’m complaining.”

Chris lives in a fairly good apartment complex. Complete with security measures such as a guard and CCTV. Hotch doesn’t know what to expect when he finally comes into Chris’s living space. The walls have a lot of photos of him with different types of social groups. He recognizes one when Chris is younger in the academy uniform, others with seniors from which he volunteered and some with his work associates. A small bookcase at the end of the room filled with books. The open kitchen is on the left, through the sofa and TV, and fairly decorated with various utensils, which means that Chris cooks at least.

The bedroom located pass the kitchen. There’s a blanket on the sofa, which means that Chris spends more time there. On top of the coffee table in front of it, rest a wine glass, a coffee cup, and the cat sculpture. In front of the cat with a condescending look, sit a framed photo of Chris in his teens and a big framed man in a police uniform, must be Matty.

“So, this is your place after you clean it?” Aaron dropped his bag beside the couch.

“Actually, I gave up halfway.”

“It’s not as bad as you said.” After looking around, he noticed Chris bending down to get his bag. “Where are you taking my bag?”

“To my room.”

Aaron smirk, recognizing his chance to tease Chris, “If you want me in your bed so badly why don’t you say just say so,” Aaron knows it’s not what Chris meant, but he can’t help it, especially how Chris would go red in an instant.

“Aaron you need to stop! You’re getting dangerously way better than me at this.”

“Why thank you,” Aaron leans in to take his bag away and slip a kiss on the corner of his mouth before dropping his bag beside Chris’ bed. “Unless you don’t want me here-”

“I do!” Chris blurted out. Aaron knocked back his head and laugh as he drops his butt on the soft mattress that bounces him lightly.

“How are you so calm?” Chris finally whispered. “You must’ve seen how I’m literally gulping down my thirst and I’m holding back...”

“Why would you hold back?”

“Because I... well, I want you, but I know it’s your first and I know I have to get into this with communication before and I go into this with you and there are like a few things you need to know and I have to prepare and I haven’t even choose the words yet and I-”

“Chris,” Aaron called when he doesn’t hear him takes a breath.

“Really just want to touch you all over and have my way with you because here you are like right in front of me looking all delicious and hot and literally the embodiment of my wet dream for the past weeks but I know we need to do it slowly and even I can’t survive if we don’t do it slowly and I just feel like I’m spilling on the edge because I miss you we rarely see each other and to finally see you I just wanna-”

“Chris,” Aaron grabbed Chris’ hand and pull slightly. “I know. I missed you too.”

Chris sucked in a breath, eyes wide at Aaron who sits on his bed as if he belonged there. No, this was not Aaron’s intention when he wants to come over, but the thought is intriguing no?

In all relationships before this one, Aaron always played the role Chris is doing now. The patient one, the waiting one, the understanding one, the leading one, the one that gives his partner the ‘go’. Now he’s on the other side of the role, and so far, he’s enjoying it.

Aaron takes off his suit.

“Oh my god, it’s happening!” Chris curled his shoulders in as if to hide, but his eyes wide open.

Aaron chuckled, “You say that as if you don’t want to see me naked.”

“I do!” Chris lands his hand on Aaron’s shoulder so abruptly that he stopped halfway of taking his tie off. “Wait, yeah, I mean... Look,” Chris kneels on the floor, grabbing both of his hands. For once Aaron doesn’t understand why Chris does the things he did.

“I...” Chris trails to a pause. In real-time, Aaron can see how the thousands of Chris’ thoughts drained down into one state of panic, “I’m nervous,” The detective finally says. No childish quirks, just a man, truly afraid.

“You think I’m not?” Aaron cups Chris's distressed face with both his hand on each side. “But I feel safe with you. Just knowing that you worry means a lot to me.”

“I... don’t understand. I’m a mess, I’m afraid that I fuck things up and... and... I just want this to feel good for you too.” Chris just explained what Aaron meant without him realizing it. A person so sweet that it made the back of his throat gulps and his mouth salivate. To his absolute surprise, he felt the smooth alcohol like a burn inside him as he looks at Chris kneeling with hands on his thighs. Those deep blue eyes look so innocent and kind as they look up to him. What a pleasant new-found feeling.

“In my previous relationships, I’m always the one leaned on, not that I mind, just wanted to say that I’ve felt the pressure you’re feeling. When you worry, I know you’ll be careful with me, I feel like I could lean on you. It’s going to be okay.”

Chris blinks, eyebrows knit together, “Of course you can, were you not able to do that before?”

Of course, he does... Wait, does he? He opens his mouth, yet his mind draws a blank.

“Oh, my pretty baby,” Chris coos, slipping his hands on Aaron’s waist and kiss him on the lips.

Aaron kisses him back, pressing his face to his as he closes his eyes. “If you want me, don’t hesitate, just...”

“Slowly?”

“Please.”

The kiss starts chaste, like their first kiss. Hotch doesn’t realize how touch starved he was until now that’s touched with hands that eagerly wants him. He has his experiences with women, but the women that made him feel like this with a kiss, was married to him, and the other dated him briefly. Strong and steady arms loop on his back and hold him tight as the man that owns them kisses him deeper. His own hands grab onto his shoulder while the other raking Chris’ brunette hair with his fingers and pulls him even closer.

The air intake in between kept short and efficient. They paced up their movement with no hurry, with Chris’ hands on his back, he slowly descends him on the mattress. A heavier weight on top of him surprisingly serves comfort at how it grounds him. Thick pair of legs snug between his, grinding teasingly slow. Chris smells of his lemongrass shampoo and his favorite lavender lush soap bar, and Aaron takes in a deep breath of that mixed with his own scent. Soft pulses beat against his hammering heart, pressing generously heavy.

Every subtle movement, even the gentlest made itself known prominently on each other’s senses. The hands cupping Chris’ face trails down to his chest, playing with the contour of his body. Chris’ arms slip away from Hotch’s back and slither down to pull the shirt tucked in his belted hips.

The one carrying the current is Chris, and Aaron is blissfully riding along like a leaf on the mercy of the water stream. It’s a self-surrender that Aaron never felt before. To receive instead of giving. To follow instead of leading. To surrender to another’s arm instead of holding onto them in his.

Whatever playful intention Aaron had –because he was here to cheer Chris up originally- had gone with the lul of this moment.

That is, until a hand slithers under his shirt. Aaron tensed and hold Chris’s hands from moving any more.

“Sorry,” Chris breathed. Thankfully, he doesn’t sound too troubled by Aaron’s sudden stop. “We don’t need to go more than this if you don’t want to.” Whatever expression he wears that made Chris said that he doesn’t like it.

“It’s not that.” Aaron gulps. It’s inevitable anyway, he’ll have to show it sooner or later, Now is a good enough time as any.

Aaron unbuttoned his shirt, wanting to look away from Chris anxious eyes but he doesn’t, for Chris. He knows the scars won’t turn Chris off, but Chris has the tendency to feel strongly to these things despite him trying not to show it on his face, but that’s not what he’s worried about. What worries Aaron was, well, himself. It’s a scar that still feels raw and open.

For every button he undid, a puzzle piece fits in the picture. Then when all the pieces are there, Chris gapes, breathless. Aaron could feel his pained eyes looking at each of the nine stab wounds on his torso.

“Oh... Aaron,” Chris whimpered, that alone makes up for Aaron’s curiosity. Hands travel upon his sides peering in yet never too far, careful not to touch the white lines across his abdomen and chest that were once stab wounds. “I... you don’t have to ever tell me about it... I just... I’m so...”

“I’ll tell you, Chris, maybe not now.”

Chris leans down his temple against Aaron’s collarbone, damp and warm with sweat that was building up. “Does it still hurt you?”

“It’s an old scar, it had healed completely.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Aaron knows. He places his hand at Chris’s trimmed nape, raking his fingers across the prickly short half of his hair and sigh.

“Sometimes.”

Chris hums in reply, placing a kiss on his collarbone as a start, and slowly trails lower. Aaron unclenches his hand and lets Chris go wherever.

“Can I touch them?” Chris asked in a treading whisper. Aaron can feel his question against his skin, sending wavelength of warmth to his chest. No one had asked permission before, but most of them pretend it’s not there, and Aaron was okay with that. Chris is different. Everything he’s done with Chris has all been different. Yet every new territory he stepped in with Chris has been a fulfilling one.

“Yes.”

The kisses trails lower then it landed on the first keloid scar. Then to another one, then another. When Chris reaches for the scar in the abdomen, Aaron gasped slightly at the heightened feeling. Both his fist balled, pulling the sheets slightly.

“If I’m doing something you didn’t want,” Chris said, “Promise that you’ll tell me.”

“I... I promise,” Aaron whispered between the breath.

Chris kisses the last and furthest down scar while he unbuckles Aaron’s belt.

+++++

“His name is Foyet,” Aaron admits to the ceiling. Chris froze on the bathroom’s door frame with freshly brushed teeth wearing nothing but the famous flower boxer.

“Wait, we’re doing this now?” Chris hurries over Aaron’s side and lands his butt on the edge of the bed on his side, bouncing Aaron along.  “You don’t have to tell me if it brings back memories.”

The tight grip on his hand made him look at Chris, really look at him. The fear, concern, and worry that blatantly displayed in his face, and no curiosity whatsoever.

“It doesn’t, not anymore.” Not after years of therapy. Chris doesn’t look convinced. Aaron sits up, with a hand on top of Chris’. “Do you want to know?” he asked, unsure himself.

His eyes don’t look blue at the darkness of the room. They opened the window and the city lights were their only light, yet Aaron can feel his eyes looking at his scars. Looking up, Chris looks determined. “Yes.”

So, Aaron told him everything. Foyet, the man who took his whole world from him. How it started with him being presumed as a victim, the deal, the stabbing. It wasn’t the worst part of it. The worst part was how Foyet involved his family. His then ex-wife, Haley and his way too young son Jack were sent to protective custody. Even with that, even with the strings Aaron pulled to keep them safer, Foyet got to him and Aaron was too late. Foyet made Haley calls him as he shoots her on the head with Jack present. When Aaron reached the house, all he sees is red and the next thing he knows, he’s beating Foyet flat to the ground. Each strike he lands, even with the bone-breaking crunch, the man laughs until he died in his hands. He doesn’t know when he died, or which punch that did it, which hands. A coworker needed to pull him away from the dead body, then he ran towards his son’s room to find him bleeding out in his bed while hugging his Yoda figurine. Even after he killed him, it felt he didn’t give the man when he deserved. He didn’t even give his son a quick death, but a slow painful one.

It ate him alive for years thinking the way they died. His son must’ve been so afraid as he bleeds out and his consciousness slipping away, the fear Haley must’ve felt when she faced Foyet. Aaron promised that he’ll make it up to her for the rest of his life after everything’s done, and he still does. For a long time, Aaron doesn’t know what else to live for and found it back with them.

He never told anyone this much. The bureau’s psychiatrist had his file so he doesn’t need to say much. His relationship with Beth ended before he could tell her. In each word he says, the scar made itself known. At the end of his tale, his mouth is dry, and his heart on his hand where Chris is holding with trembling hands.

“Oh god, Aaron.” Chris sobs, but just as Aaron predicted, he’s holding back tears behind haunted eyes. “That’s horrible.” Chris held Aaron’s hand tighter.

“It is,” Aaron admitted.

“I’m glad that he died, even more knowing that you killed him, but how do you get away from the bureau with that?”

“Not without a fight and justification. I was a prosecutor, after all, I know my way around.”

“Still,” Chris catches himself after hearing his voice broke, “Ugh, the justice system is so fucked up, and I’m the justice system.”

“We’re but a gear among many.”

“I know you must’ve heard it a lot before, but I’m so sorry it happened to you.”

“I don’t actually.”

“Don’t what?”

“Not a lot of people said they’re sorry. My colleague didn’t say it, they don’t need to, I already know. Not a lot of people know about it since it’s highly classified for my sake. My ex’s family blamed me for what happened, so they’re not sorry for me.”

Chris falls into a solemn silence. His face rids of his usual playfulness or even sorrow. Just an empty expressionless mask as he stares down their clasp hands. It’s an eerie thing to see Chris slips out into this character. It’s foreign, but it’s still undoubtedly Chris, and that’s what terrifies him.

“It doesn’t happen to you anymore,” Chris says monotonously.

“Are you talking about me or yourself?” Aaron baited, and Chris finally looks up from their hands.

“For both of us.” Chris weakly smiled. “It’s just so sad, and I think I just broke there because... well, I can’t see the sunny part of it. There’s a bright side of everything, I know that. I just can’t see it in your case other than that it doesn’t happen to you anymore, and it’s never going to happen to you anymore because he’s gone.”

“You’re right.”

“Then why do you look like that?” Chris asked.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s still happening to you.”

Aaron didn’t see that question coming, even after knowing Chris’ character, sometimes the serious part of Chris often comes unseen.

“Because I never let myself forget. For the first years, after it happened, I don’t let myself forget by not forgiving myself.” The confession had been a dead weight he carried through the years. He told himself that he deserves the gaining weight he carries, even when he’s telling the bureau’s psychiatrist. Now, it’s different, because someone with teary deep blue eyes is telling him that it doesn’t happen to him anymore.

“Is that the reason why you’re always working late? Because of guilt?”

“I was, but not anymore.”

“But you still do it.”

“A habit.”

Chris hums, his eyes no longer wet in tears, but piercing and searching into him.

“I know how it feels to come home to a quiet house. I’ve lost...” Chris trails away, going quiet. Just a look at Chris’s face and Aaron knew he finally found someone that understands the loss he felt, and he’s not grateful for it. “I’ve lost more than I can handle in a short amount of time. I know how it feels, not wanting to come home, because... well, there’s no one to come home to. The empty rooms are all that I can get, though it’s needed sometimes.”

Aaron gulped. He knows Chris is right, but he never hears it loud and clear, or hear anyone says it to his face.

“We can do something about that!” Chris cheered and Aaron leans back, perplexed by the quick turn. “When it gets too quiet, let call!”

Aaron gapes for a few seconds before finally regaining his voice, “I can’t call you every day.”

“I not talking about everyday, silly. I know we’re too busy for every day, just when you have the feeling that you intentionally don’t want to go home when you should’ve, let’s call.” Chris noted the unsure look on Aaron’s face and leans closer with both his hand perching between Aaron’s waist. “Look, we don’t even need to talk, just going online on WhatsApp voice call. That way I’ll be just around the corner for small talk or even petty question.”

“You’d do that?” Hotch doesn’t know how he looked, but the way Chris smiles at him so full of compassion fills a void that’s been gaping for a long time.

“You’re not asking too much of me, I promise. I want to call too.”

After a smile, Hotch finally nodding in agreement. “Thank you.”

Chris slips his arms around Aaron’s torso and hugged tightly. “By the way, I didn’t say this before, but the scars look really sexy on you, sorry.”

Aaron chuckled, “Don’t be, that’s the first time someone doesn’t pity the scars I have.”

++++

“SSA Hotchner.”

“You’re still at the office?”

“Yes.”

“Aaron,” the voice firmed up.

That’s when Aaron finally tore his eyes away from his reports and looks at the caller ID, seeing Chris’s name.

“Just landed, this paper is last minute.”

“Uh-huh,” Chris doesn’t sound convinced. “Oh, by the way, thank you for the gift.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, I was in tears, then conveniently wiping my tears with it.”

Hotch chuckled, “Is it really tears worthy?”

“It deserves a bucket of it, mostly because of laughter, mostly because I imagine you making it. When did you even find the time?”

“I spent a few minutes before bed on it.”

“Awww, okay I’m not mad anymore, but look at the time Aaron Hotchner! I know the watch I gave you still works, it’s time to go home. I’ll read for you again if you needed to.”

Aaron looks down at his wrist. Black leather and titanium steel. Silver needle points at an 11 and a 10. “I’d like that.”

“Okay, call me when you’re home, bye hon.”

“Bye.”

The line disconnected, and Hotch looks up to see Rossi standing there with a smug smile.

“And what would that gift be, that it made a grown man cry?” Rossi steps inside and hands him a folder.

“I knit him a handkerchief with a cat on it, it’s surprisingly easy.”

“You? Knitting?” Rossi said with eyes balked, rising a tone on each word.

“It’s surprisingly therapeutic.”

Rossi shook his head and chuckles, “Look at you two! Already acting like a pair of an old married couple. I didn’t think you two will even go that far, I was skeptical, not gonna lie.”

“Me too,” he admitted, “But I really like him.”

There’s a playful glint in Rossi’s eyes, a mischievous intent, “So, what’s your status?”

“What do you mean?”

Rossi gave him a look and Aaron, for the lack of a better word, ‘got caught.’ He never thought of it before. He just assumes that Chris and he are in a relationship, but now that he thinks about it, none of them had established that.

“You’re getting rusty there boy,” Rossi smirks, enjoying Aaron’s demise.

“Well I might be, but it helps that Chris is as rusty at this as I am.”

+++++

“I know the sound of that sigh,” chirped a high pitched voice from the desk in front of him, then followed by a screech from plastic wheels scraping the floor.

Chris pushes himself to the side, away from his messy desk filled with due reports and a computer screen filled with even more words and updated evidence. Wheels from his old chair squeaks and he meets a done expression from a blond with glossy pink lips.

“Trouble in paradise?” She beats him to it.

“Nothing like that Haily, just tryna take care of my...” Chris froze. Haily arched her permanently made eyebrows, watching Chris like he just got a stroke.

Why didn’t he ever think about this before? They never established a relationship. Like who are they? Are they still in the probation period? Because it doesn’t feel that way. Now that it doesn’t feel that way, what are they gonna do now?

“Really Chris? Don’t tell me you haven’t asked him to be your boyfriend yet. I taught you better than that.” Haily’s loud voice is mercifully is on a lower side as she said that.

“I... I don’t know! I was waiting for him, and I don’t want to be the one that pushes!”

“You said you have a heart to heart a couple of weeks ago! Isn’t that the green light?”

“I think so... I mean, it has to be but I can’t be sure.”

Haily knits her eyebrows together so hard it’ almost looked like a unibrow, pursing her lips as she lands her pretty tiny face on her long manicured hands. “Did he do something that makes you second guess?”

Chris shakes his head vigorously, “It’s not that... He’s perfect, Haily. He’s the tall dark and handsome type I love. And his body! Oh my god, that fucking suit had fooled me for months! His body is an absolute unit. Like, dense and packed with full power!” Chris sighed breathlessly as he wipes a sweat on his temple while Haily rolled her eyes. “But inside that hard exterior is this dreamy soft and gooey heart. But... do you remember 2015?”

Haily dropped her frown, pale blue eyes open in surprise, “How far have you gone?”

“To the moon.”

“Chrissy,” Haily awed, pushing with her work leather heel and pushes her office chair to bump with his. “This one won’t crash and burn like the dumpster fire of 2015, I promise.”

Chris rubs his face and lay on his hand, “How would you know?”

“You gotta trust me, honey,” Haily drapes her skinny arms around Chris’ shoulder, “I’ve seen you grow, you’re more mature now and Aaron is different than her. It won’t happen again.”

“You haven’t even met him yet.”

“Shh shhh shhh, I just know okay? Though opinion may change after I see him, maybe.”

Chris just gave a weak smile, he went weak in the knees at how he’s going to bring this conversation up. They’re already comfortable being where they are now, being who they are. If Chris brings it up... what if Aaron taps out?

“Hey! I don’t wanna see those wrinkles,” Haily press her fingers between Chris’ brows. He flinched back, pouting. “What were you texting bout with mister cool and sexy anyway?” Give it to Haily to know who’s texting who without seeing. She said it’s in the typing sound, the hesitating pauses, the excited rapid punches. Chris is still learning, still doesn’t get it.

“I was lecturing him about staying late at the office,” Chris admitted bashfully.

Haily narrowed her eyes at Chris, scoffing, “And where are we at this same hour?”

“Our office...”

“Go home Chris, then call your boo.”

“Okay,” Chris takes his bag and put on his jacket, “How bout you?”

“I lost that bet with Santiago and had some extra reports, but I’m done now,” She takes her purse, “Come now baby, let’s ditch this dump!”

+++++

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re burning the banana.”

“Oh shit!”

Chris yank the pan away and throw it to the counter beside the stove while turning it off. Poor banana... it’s burnt on the sides, sticking to the pan. Poor bacon and eggs, why are they mixed with a banana?

“Why are you searing banana with bacon and eggs,” Aaron chirped, looking down at the monstrosity Chris had created.

“I don’t know,” Chris mused, not daring to look up to look at Aaron after what he’d done to his pan, and other things too of course. “Sorry about burning our dinner.”

“Wanna eat out?”

“Yeah, I mean... we have to,” Chris looked pointedly at the pan, suddenly feeling exhausted. He just came back from work when he jumps into the train to see Aaron, who happens to just land from a case.

He thought the homey environment would make it easier to have ‘the talk’ but it’s not.

“I can hear the gear in your head turning,” Aaron bumps his shoulder against Chris, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking of places to go to.” Smooth af Chris. “I’m feeling fast foods.”

Chris turns around to get his jacket, but Aaron steps in, planting firm palms against the counter, trapping him in between. Aaron leans forward and Chris froze.

“What...” Chris blurted, the space between them and the position of him being trapped killed half of his brain cells.

“You hate fast food,” Aaron stated.

Rats! “Can’t a guy have some cravings?” not really... he hated fast food. This smooth youthful skin doesn’t clear itself. How else do you think he looked this young despite his age?

“I know something is bothering you.” Aaron squints his eyes, and Chris’ heart thrum rapidly. He’s being profiled, oh no. “You insisted on coming to my place instead, so whatever you wanted to tell me, if it goes bad, you can easily leave without making me feel bad.”

“You have to guess what I was about to say first,” Chris played along, almost glad that he doesn’t need to say it.

“You wanted to end our relationship.”

Chris gasped so loud he almost choked on his own breath. He grips Aaron’s biceps, “Wha- No! Are you crazy!”

Aaron just chuckled shyly. Chris blinks, perplexed. “I know it’s not that now.”

“I... what, you really think there’s a possibility I would want that? Aaron... maybe you’re not as good as a profiler as you thought.” Chris doesn’t mean that. It’s just that Aaron is legit a dumbass if he ever thinks of Chris ever wanting to let him go.

He’ll never find anyone like Aaron again. Someone who treats him seriously even though he tended to act like a dumb bitch outside of work even at his age and with his profession. Someone that... well, loves him back with the same intensity as him. Someone that doesn’t comment on his weird-ass hobbies and quirks... yet.

“What else was I suppose to think you’re gonna say?” he asked with the softest smile that still makes Chris turn all warm and gooey inside. “You haven’t looked at me in the eyes since you walked in.”

“I was about to ask you to be my boyfriend, Aaron, geez...” Then his breath hitched. The words just slid off his tongue. His grip on Aaron loosens, ready to bolt. But Aaron’s arms still entrapping him between his suit wrapped body and the counter, then his face mellows, not even a tinge of shock.

“Yes,” Aaron says and leans down to kiss him.

“Wait...” Chris says between kisses, “You knew!”

“To be fair, I only knew after hearing your reaction.”

“Well, fudge sticks... There goes the rest of my 5-day plan.”

“Sorry to spoil your unnecessarily long plan. Now, what do you really want to eat?”

“I wanna go to Trader Joe’s so we can make some chicken salad and pasta.”

Aaron smiled at him, though it just looks a bit different than his usual heart eyes. Sickly sweet, soft and fluffy smile. Just something else Chris can’t point out, and he doesn’t know what makes Aaron that excited for his mediocre chicken salad and pasta.

“Let’s go then.” Aaron finally lets go of his arms and wraps them in Chris’s waist instead. His face buries at the crook of his neck.

Chris wraps around his around Aaron’s shoulder. He doesn’t question as they stay there just hugging.

This feels nice. Chris wants to feel like this for as long as he lives. Whoa! That’s some heavy feelings there, maybe it’s what Aaron felt too? Well, he’s going to ask if Aaron wants to spend the rest of his days with him too someday, but not today.

Today’s menu is hugs, food, and Netflix until they sleep on each other.

[smolbeandrabbles]

Diamonds or Twine pt.1 - Robin van der Hook x Reader (The Place Beyond The Pines)

Author’s Note: Possibly more a ‘mini series’ than a Full Fic Mendo. I’m pretty sure I know how this all goes and I really don’t need to drag it out, I just love him so much I want to give him his own series 💜💙 He is my 🌞 Disclaimer: So, obviously, TPBTP characters/setting/etc are not mine. We’re gonna start Pre-Luke, just gimmie a tick... Premise: Whilst on the way home from a job in up state New York you figure you could use a mechanic to make it through the last 200 miles... Apparently, Schenectady has just the guy... Words: 3858 Warnings: N/A

______   She was lost and lookin' for the interstate Needin' directions, and I was the man for the job I told her way up yonder past the caution light There's a little country store with an old Coke sign... Then a left will take you to the interstate But a right will bring you right back here to me I was sittin' there thinkin' 'bout her pretty face Kickin' myself for not catchin' her name ...'you fool, that coulda been love. I knew my old Ford couldn't run her down She probably didn't like me anyhow So I watched her disappear in a cloud of dust

Is this heat playin' tricks on me Or am I really seein' what I think I see? The woman of my dreams comin' back to me She went way up yonder past the caution light Don't know why, but somethin' felt right... Thank God for good directions... 

---

You were 250 miles from home when the noise started. And you elected to ignore it, you could get back just fine. What, it was 4 hours to New York City? That was nothing. It’d fly. Your truck was reliable… it’d get you there. It was probably just a nick, or a stone or something, nothing to worry about, it’d pass… 200 miles from New York and the noise hadn’t stopped. But luckily hadn’t got any worse. You’d passed through so many towns where you could have had it checked, but you were still determined that you could get home. Your F-150 was almost brand new, nothing bad was going to happen. Except the voice in your head, which was running through every plausible scenario; from a breakdown, to blowing up, to full on kidnap… “Shut up! Y/N! You’re being ridiculous!” You just turned the radio up a little more, then you could barely hear it… much better!

 165 miles from home and even the radio didn’t help. And you decided the next town would be your last hope. The voice in your head had finally worn you down. “Schenectady…” Sounded like a small town in the middle of nowhere that wouldn’t have much of anything; As long as it has ONE decent mechanic! You slowed your truck down to cruise through the town; it looked pretty empty. You had a hard time finding anyone, yet alone a mechanic. And your truck really didn’t sound great at a lower speed like this. What the hell was wrong with it!? Eventually you managed to flag down what appeared to be the only man in town; “Excuse me!!!” Luckily he was a kind older gent, and he came over right away; “Gosh, I’m sorry I… I really need a mechanic… Do you happen to know of a good place I can go?” Instead of answering your question he tipped his head; “Where you from?” “Uh, New York City sir, I was working up state… I’m driving home – but something’s up with my truck…” “You going back by the interstate?” “…Will be.” Although you weren’t sure what that had to do with anything “Well, you just passed a really good mechanic on your right up there. Shorter distance…. But, if you want to be pointing at the interstate, then you want to keep going in the direction you’re headed – there’s a nice little shop called Van Der Hook Autobods – it’s down Washout Road. One track, right at the end, you won’t miss it – and coming back it’ll just be one track again – trust me, it’ll be impossible for a city girl to get lost.” You chuckled politely “But, you’re in a F-150, so, I’m sure you’ll have no problem with the track. Even if there’s something wrong with it.” “Van Der Hook Autobods on Washout Road. Got it.” “He’s a good guy, there isn’t a thing he doesn’t know. If he can’t fix your truck, likely no one can.” “…I think that’s supposed to be a confident statement. And I’ll take it!” You flashed a grin “Thank you so much Sir!” “No problem! I hope you had a safe journey home.” “If he can fix this first… I guess!” “Well… There’s that-!” * Eventually you met a little bumpy dirt track at a seemingly dead-end road, and continued to roll your F-150 down it. “Van Der Hook Autobods… Huh? That’s the place…” You drove on through the gates and parked up. Even the engine cutting out sounded horrible. “…Oh God… I’ve really done it…” You opened the door and hopped down; staring around. Right now there wasn’t a soul in sight, and the worn out wooden buildings looked like they needed a little work. Added to the off-white Toyota parked up at the side, your gleaming race red Ford F-150 looked completely out of place. You walked towards what you presumed to be a workshop, by the tools strewn around and the cars parked up. But you didn’t get far enough to find the man himself as you were set upon by a dog. “Oh! Woah…!” The barking was friendly, as it jumped around you, tail wagging, paws up – you crouched down; “Hey---! Hey---!” you showered it with both love and kisses. “…Oh my goodness…! Okay…!” In return you got enough kisses to last a lifetime, and it had you giggling “Alright! Alright! I get it!” You didn’t realise that he’d appeared until he spoke. Of course, he’d heard the engine, and he’d certainly heard better ones. And the slam of the car door – and his dog’s barking. But he was finishing something up, and when he hadn’t been called out by a voice he knew, he wondered what might have happened to the driver. But, he didn’t even recognise you. And eyes flicking to the District of Colombia licence plate might explain why. He watched you for a moment, deeply curious – Tula was usually a shy dog, especially around strangers… But apparently this didn’t apply to you. “Tula! Leave her alone!” You looked up, met by the inquisitive blue eyes of, you presumed, the star mechanic. “Oh, no it’s okay…” you stood, “I’m Y/N… Sorry to kinda come unannounced, I was told you were the guy to come to…” You pointed behind you to the truck “…I have no real idea about cars, so I can’t tell you what’s wrong but… something isn’t right. And I kinda felt I needed to get it looked at. The person I asked recommended you…” He processed all your information very slowly, looking between you and the truck about 15 times; “Good thing too, if that was your engine…” He held his hand out, still black from engine oil; “Robin.” You felt like you were going to meet the worlds biggest stereotype, and shook his hand; “Well Robin, if you’re as good as he said you were. I’m gonna be in a lot of debt to you!” He didn’t quite smile; shy? Or calculating?... both?, “Aw, I’m sure it’s not all that bad. I could have you on your way in no time!” At least he sounded as confident in himself as your saviour in town did. Your next comment was almost absent minded as you took a minute to really take in your surroundings, looking out across the land in front of you, how it slopped down a hill and continued on for miles until the horizon line. “This looks like a great place to run...” “Haha. I wouldn’t know...” You stepped forward “And you get to see sunrise and sunset from here... it’s stunning...” He walked out to stand beside you; and you got a good look at him in the light - scruffy dark hair with wisps of silver. Looking like he hadn’t shaved in a while; rather by choice or simply because he never had time. His white vest top was edging grey and the array of stains from working with heavy machinery all day were innumerable. His blue jeans to match... But his eyes; as he looked out across that horizon line and the sun hit them; a clear watery blue flecked green. Maybe he looked like he hasn’t slept in weeks, but he was certainly alert and alive. And his energy was electric, if nervous; “I mean I guess...” Robin waved his hands around frantically indicating to things - “it stretches back a good couple of miles, I have a trailer down there, lots of dirt track roads that kinda thing... in summer you don’t really see the sun come up, but you can see it set pretty good; best place to view either would be up there though...” He pointed back to the roof of the ramshackle garage building. “If you climbed to the roof you’d be able to see both pretty good I’d say!” “Sounds romantic.” His laugh was as nervous as his energy “Not that I’d know anything about that... now, this car of yours...” “Oh, yeah...” “What happened?” You led him to it - “That’s what I figured you’d be able to tell me; suddenly it started making this weird sound.” He nodded; “I heard.” “Well I thought I’d make it home... but it got worse and, I don’t wanna be stuck on the side of the road so...” “Home-!? To DC?! With that racket? Girl, you are brave...” You tipped your head “DC...? Where do you get that from?” He indicated to the plates “DC plates, DC car.” “Well, I live in New York.” He shot you a look; “with DC plates?” “What’s wrong with that?” Robin shook his head “No, no, no... how long have you had this?” “... A couple of months... I guess...” He made a sharp intake of breath, “Is that bad-!?” “Why does it have DC plates?” “It was my brothers...” “And he didn’t tell you?!” Robin looked at least a little shocked at that, “Tell me... what?” “You live in New York, where?” “City.” He blinked at you a couple of times; a city girl with an F-150? “...Right... this is illegal. So as soon as you get home do me one favour. Apply for New York plates - this isn’t gonna fly, and you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble.” “...Why didn’t he tell me?!?!” Your voice pitched in disbelief; that was just like him though. JUST like him “I’m gonna kill him.” Robin popped the hood with a chuckle; “No, well, that’s also illegal...” he scanned the engine, “hmm...” You looked from it to him and back; you knew barely anything about cars so... that ‘hmm’ could mean anything. “Was that good or bad.” “Undecided... you’re gonna have to give me a minute; but I know exactly what it sounded like... How long do you reckon you’ve been driving like this?” You grimaced, unwilling to confess “C’mon, you were got try to do another 160 on it so you might as well say...” “... Probably 100...” He laughed “Oh God! And you made it??! Well-made car and well run I’ll give it that...” he walked back to his workshop, and proceeded to poke around with a screwdriver “Ah, yeah... I thought so.” “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?!” You folded your arms, hoping for some kind of verbal answer, not whatever he was keeping in his head. “... Okay so...” what came next was a bunch of car jargon you’d make neither heads nor tails of, and when Robin had finished all he’d succeeded in doing was confusing you. “What?” He sighed “I tried to warn you it’d be hard to understand...” but he gave you a sweet smile, “it’s a one in a million wearing accident, but it’s the kind of thing that happens and everything gets recalled? Y’know, one of those... I mean all you need to know is I can fix it.” “Today?” He gave a frown, but didn’t like that it made you look disappointed; “I don’t promise miracles... but yeah, probably...” “Well. What do I do if you can’t fix it today?!” Robin jerked his thumb back to the expanse of land he seemingly owned “There’s a trailer you can stay in... don’t worry I won’t charge you.” “Isn’t that your trailer?” He scoffed “I don’t live in a trailer.” “Well... who does?!” He tipped his head to your question, wondering why you’d be interested in the first place; “No one... currently. I mean yeah, people from time to time hit its empty... I’ll stay up here. You’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You weren’t that worried, he didn’t look that intimidating. You reckoned you could take him in a fair fight.  “I mean I’d rather not if I can help it.” “Why, city girl, important meetings?” You folded your arms defiantly; “I might.” He laughed; “What are you doing all the way up here?!” “We have an upstate office... I went to project manage up there, cuz that’s what I do, and no one ever likes going to the upstate office.” “And you volunteered because...?” You indicated to the truck “I like driving.” “Of course.” “I do!” Robin didn’t sound disbelieving but he’d put you on the defensive. “But you know nothing about cars?” “Fixing cars!” “Get a better brother!” You opened your mouth to protest but realised that Robin was probably right about that and instead made a face like you thought he was being fair. Which he wasn’t sure he liked, “...oh... I’m sorry...” “No. It’s okay... I don’t think we ever got over the teenage fighting phase.” “Older?” “By 5 years, yeah.” “Ah...” he spoke as if that made sense, which prompted your next question; “Do you have siblings?” He shook his head; “No... sometimes I wish I did....” You looked around you again; “Do you get lonely up here...?” “Sometimes... I got my dogs. Ain’t that right Tula!” She barked in agreement; “See?” You smiled and couched again; encouraging Tula over to you; “I think I’d like it...” “What?” He shut the hood and held his hand out for your keys, “Oh sorry -“ You handed them over, “The quiet... you get to think, and take time, and...” “New York City too fast paced, city girl?” You narrowed your eyes, clearly he was about to fixate on that nick-name for you; “No... but I like being able to leave...” He rolled your truck up into his garage - with your help, you didn’t want to seem like you were going to push him to fix it and expect him to do all the heavy lifting. Robin told you he didn’t want to risk starting the ignition again, in case the F-150 decided to give up completely or the damage became worse. “Light packing?” “I was there a week. I don’t need too much...” You watched as he searched his tool box to set up with exactly what he’d need, “Do you want some help? Can I help?” He shook his head “No... that’s cool... don’t worry about it! But you can keep me company. Unless you’re about to tell me you need a Starbucks and WiFi in order to effectively communicate?” You folded your arms; “Cuz I’m a city girl?” He laughed, liking that you were taking his jab in your stride; “You got it!” “No...” You hoisted yourself up onto a clutter free ledge (surprisingly few of these seemed to exist in here) with a smile, “I think I’ll be pretty good at keeping you company.”

 So for the next few hours you got to know one another. Skipping around mundane surface conversation and small talk, he wanted to know more about you. And every interesting question he asked only led you to counter with one of your own. Yes, you can know that... but only if I know this... Robin liked that; you had an openness about you without being too quick to give yourself away. And a curiosity of your own; not only that, but you were actually interested in his answers. You didn’t ask anything for the sake of asking. You would follow up on his answer with “Where’s that?... What do you do there?… Hang on you what-!?... That’s incredible!” He enjoyed that, the wish to know more. He wasn’t sure he knew all that many people who wanted to know him that well that quickly. A lot of people dropped their car off and came back when he told them to collect it. You didn’t have much choice, but you didn’t have to stay here.

 Eventually he put his spanner down and stood back. He ran his eyes over the engine once. Then leant forward and talked himself through it all again. You couldn’t hear him from where you were sitting, but it was a curious thing to watch. Then he smiled, confidently, stepped back and shut the hood, turning to you; “You’re good to go!” Your face instantly brightened; “Really?!” “Yeah... There’s little bits I can see would need doing eventually, but to get you back home, which is the most important thing, you’ll be fine. But just make sure to take it to a servicer and please, those plates! File that paperwork! If I had time I’d take you through it but…” He turned to you with a sympathetic smile; “You don’t look like you need a fine - or to get in trouble with law enforcement!” “Oh my god! Thank you!!! I... I mean I don’t even know how to thank you enough!” “Hey, good conversation is thank you enough, believe me...” There was a gentle smile on his face and you knew your observation of his loneliness wasn’t wrong. “...I guess this paperwork will be thank you enough too!” “Oh yeah! Do that and you’ve done your one job!” Robin laughed, as you opened your car door to get your purse; “How much do I owe you?” “Oh no!” He was bashful, with a shake of his head “don’t worry about it.” “No, come on...! You can’t do that..!” “Don’t worry about it!” “Robin! I could be stuck in the middle of nowhere with a broken truck right now! You halted progress on everything else for me, let me pay you!”

He gave a sigh; “You’re gonna stand there and be a pain until I cave, aren’t ya.” “Pretty much!” You grinned, knowing he’d got a good measure of you. “That’s how they do it in the city... huh?” “No I think that’s just me, but it is a useful tactic!” “Alright...” he mumbled a number, but you weren’t about to let him get away with that. “What?” “100.” You narrowed your eyes at him, betting it was nowhere near that original price and handed notes over “No change, no take backs.” He fanned out what at a quick count was at least $300.  “Oh...” he said it softly “That’s a hell of a tip...” “I think you deserve it.” You opened your car door again to straighten everything up, “You put up with me for two hours straight...” He opened his mouth, but promptly shut it with a sigh. He wasn’t sure he could tell you how much of a pleasure that was, without it coming out sounding as sad as it was meant to. Robin had done that once too often before…

**

 You kicked around for a little while longer, until you could tell the sun really was on its way down, and you ought to head off to find the interstate before it completely set on you. Driving in the dark was never particularly fun when you knew where you were. You said goodbye to Tula first. And again we’re smothered in love; “Okay! Okay!” You giggled “I love you too!” You turned back to him “Thank you, again!” His smile was shy; “You’re welcome... do you know where you’re going from here?” “Straight?” He laughed, once again shy as his pretty eyes flicked away from yours “Right... up to the end, yeah and then...?” You shook your head slowly “Not a clue!” “Okay...” He held his hands up to act out the directions; “Left to the next junction, should be a stop sign, and then a little one for the interstate. I promise you can’t miss it. Turn right there, and you’ll be on your entry ramp. Then I guess you can take it from there home?” “Uh huh! You got it! Thank you! Man, Robin, I owe ya a lot! I just... I mean it I can’t thank you enough.” He gave a grateful smile, he knew you were – you’d only expressed your gratitude to him every other sentence since he’d fixed it up. “That’s sweet… Unfortunately I’m not on tripadvisor or whatever rating site the kids are all using these days.” You laughed a little louder “Dang it! I’ll keep it in mind!” “If you’re ever back up here though, city girl, and you need a fix! I got you covered!” “I’ll remember that!” You gave a wave and walked back to your vehicle, “Until such a time, Robin!”

You opened your truck door and were about to climb up when something compelled him to call you back; “Hey! Y/N!” “Uh huh!?” You paused, looking back to him and he smiled; “I mean, if you turn right into town for any reason... or you want those other little niggles fixing before you head back, you know... to make sure it’s 100%. You can always take a U turn and it’ll bring you right back here.” You bit your lips together as you smiled, and this time you looked a little shy yourself “Thank you Robin! I’ll remember that too!”

 You turned the ignition, almost half hoping it wouldn’t start, but it did... and it sounded smoother than it had even when you’d got it. Wow... he’s done an amazing job, I’ll give him that! Robin waved you off as you started your still near enough 200 mile journey home. You didn’t want to push your truck too hard until you had to. Until you hit the interstate and could let it fly, and give that fixed up engine some exercise. Whilst you were still in reach of a mechanic you just wanted to ease her into it. You indicated left and took the road as far as you could. He was right. There was a stop sign just a little way out of town at a crossroads, with an interstate sign in the bright green you were used to. Only his voice kept resounding in your head. So before you knew it you’d been staring at that stop sign for 5 minutes. If anyone had pulled up behind you it would have compelled you to move – you’d have had to make a decision and shift somewhere. And you’d probably happily be speeding off down the highway by now. But no one did. And you might call that Devine Intervention. You took a deep breath, indicated and turned...

 Robin was clearing up when he heard the hum of a decent engine coming back down the tracks. And this time he wandered outside to watch the car arrive. Race red, of course. You hopped down, slamming the door. Something had called you back to him, like there was something here. You weren’t supposed to go anywhere just yet. Like even in those short hours, you’d left something with him… “Is something wrong with my fix?? You come to complain?! Seen as you can’t do it on the internet?!” He folded his arms jokingly, but you pointed back to your truck with a smile. “You know... I was thinking... if there are further niggles... I... I don’t think I wanna risk anything, y’know, 200 miles is… quite the way!” He took another sharp breath; “Well, you’re right, it is nearly 200 miles... I can understand the concern...” “Well, can you take another look?” He nodded, his smile widening by the second; “Of course I can... but uh...” He looked to the horizon, “Ya aren’t getting out of here before dark...” Robin looked back to you curiously, and the way you simply shrugged; “Guess I’m gonna have to stay...”

--- @dennismitchell @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad. Well. I’ve only had this in my head since I watched TPBTP for the first time. And that was the first movie I watched for my ‘Reviews’ segment... Before I started taking these requests... SO that was a LONG time ago! Anyway, Robin, didn’t I promise when Sway was over? And here we are Boi 💜💙

[the-canary]

Languages of Saints - C.R (7/10)

Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Carter Baizen).

Prompt: “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

A/N: for @imcarterbaizen​ old challenge. shout out to my bff @ilsa-faustus because i know nothing about high end brands, and she helped picked the clothes for this. please don’t take the person wearing the dress as an actual visual of the main character, it is simple a reference for you to make a basis out of.  

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 

Feedback is always appreciated.

It’s easy to let work pile up, to let it be the only thing that dominates your mind to and back home from work. Numbers and words are easier to handle the people and emotions, you tend to ignore those until the fester and it’s too late -- work is always there with a straightforward answer in its numbers and it doesn’t talk back. You can disconnect with it and it doesn’t hurt like when a person stops interacting with you, maybe that’s why you could handle Rocio so well. Roci was forest fire that hid after she burned herself out and didn’t come back until she was some semblance of her former self -- for all the insane schemes she had put you through the years, she had never showed you that softer side of her personality -- and you never had either.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the complete truth. There bits here and there, like the garden party, where you would stand by your best (and only) friend if it was called for. And in the same, twisted sort of way -- Rocio tried her best to protect you too. Though, it was too damn early to be sending her cryptic text messages when you had work in the morning

Don’t do it. You’ll just get hurt in the end.    

You move from your bed, as Monsieur makes a loud meow at the interruption to his sleep. You check the time again to see that it’s 4am. You groan and wonder what she means, roll around a bit more -- forgetting all about the message and going back to those strange dreams filled with cold numbers and equally as icy blue eyes -- not that you remember anything when your real time to wake up when morning comes around.

However, Carter Baizen isn’t the same type of rich person as Rocio. He likes poking and prodding at people in his own way until he finds something that bothers them. It had taken him a long while, but once he had found a weakness of yours; he went in for the kill. You were a natural workaholic and while it was something that he admired, it was also something he exploited after the gala event incident. No, it wasn’t that he made you work more, but in his own cheekiness of mentioning how he could ruin the events leading up to gala.

Since agreeing to being his plus one, it had opened some type gate to him trying to get a rise out of you. In the events you needed to attend, he was always dressed to the nines in Hugo Boss suits, but the moment someone turned around he was always making some type of slide remark and he did in moments where the possibility of getting caught was high. At this point you weren’t sure if he was trying to make you mad or trying to make you laugh. As in the current moment, Carter Baizen had taken you to a quick dinner with some “very”  important people in downtown Manhattan.

Personal assistant could be added to your resume at this point, but you weren’t sure that the scantily clad woman next to the man was here for the same reason as you. The man was complaining to the waiter about his steak when you hear a small murmur above the classical music.

“Always does it,” you glance to your right side to see sparkling blue eyes and a wagging eyebrow and you put two and two together. This man of high status complained about his steak to get it cheaper all the time. You don’t know why, maybe it’s the lack of sleep, the way he shakes his head with a silent laugh, or just how ridiculous the situation is that it has you letting out a snort, catching everyone’s attention as you grab your handkerchief pretend to sneeze.

“Excuse me,” you manage to say, as the man simply scolds you before going back to talking with Mr. Baizen. You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face for a moment, one that you try to hide behind the wine glass, as the meeting continues.

However, after everything is said and done, after the drunk business man and his “date” leave, Carter Baizen can’t help but let out a loud laugh into the humid New York air as your shake your head.

“What an idiot,” Carter lets out with while placing his hands into his pockets, you just shake your head but can’t help but agree silently, not that you would ever tell him. However, as he runs a hand through his hair with laugh lines around his eyes, you can’t help but think it looks good on him compared to all the other times you have interacted with him.

“You’re child, Mr. Baizen,” is all you’ll say on the subject, as he keeps laughing.  

The second time you think Carter Baizen is playing with you is when you come back from lunch and have a beautifully suited woman sitting on your desk. Her blonde hair is flowing to her shoulders. She’s wearing a pure white suit and accessories all over her hands and neck that you are sure cost more than you’ll ever make. However, the thing that stands out most are her high heels that shine gold in the artificial light, you pause momentarily out fear at the entrance of your office door, as beautifully painted brown eyes stare at you. Her mouth twitches just a little as you duck your head in.

“Umm, where you waiting for me?” you ask timid to stare, much less speak to such a stylish woman. It was easier with Rocio after years of friendship, but this woman was something all together. She drops down her legs from the desk and smiles.

“I’m Cameron,” she explains as you close the door, “One of Carter Baizen’s personal stylists, but for today I’ll be handling your dress attire for the gala.”

“I don’t think I need help dressing up,” you freeze up mortified at the attention and money suddenly being placed into what you wore, something that you still aren’t used to even after that shopping spree, “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“Ah, he said you would say that,” Cameron just keeps smiling while pulling out her phone and relaying a certain message, “Mr. Baizen says: Tell my lovely date, that I am personally paying for your services. It is a waste of your time and my money not to have her at her best, especially with so many potential donors for the children’s hospital. If not I could find someone with --”

“Please stop ,” you groan out, as she gives you a pointed smile, “So what do you need of me?”

“Your body,” she states as your eyes grow wide at her tone. She stands up, heels echoing on the linoleum, and crosses the distance between the two of you before pushing you outside once more, “And for you to do everything I say without a fuss.”

“I-I can try,” you say nervously as she drags your across the office and into the elevators. It isn’t much of a scene, but Cameron’s outfit and you just being out is enough to have a few eyes staring at you. Nick looks on from the water cooling station before waving at you to have a good whatever it is you’re doing.

“Thanks!” you yell back, as the blond chuckles behind you. You’re a little fearful over her next words as she takes you to the elevator -- where she is leading you, you have no clue.

“Just watch, we’ll have Carter Baizen graveling at your feet, sweetie.”

You don’t know if you should be excited or angry at the man who you are sure will be laughing about this later.

 Carter Baizen isn’t sure why he is feeling so nervous as he walks around the large hallway leading to the gala he is too attend this evening. He is perfection in a black on black Armani suit with his hair slicked back in just the right angle. He had his selling pitch ready for anyone that is even hesitating to give tonight with the charm amped up to 10x more than usual. Nothing could get in his way tonight, except that his date wasn’t here yet. Cameron had messaged him that there were few problems with the original dress and she was getting a new one last minute. It meant that you didn’t come together as planned, now he was waiting with no updates -- something that drove him a little stir crazy. He’s about have a very angry phone call with one of his favorite stylists, but then he hears it.

“And who are you with, miss?” the maitre d asks.

“I’m Mr. Carter Baizen’s plus one,” there is an unusual pitch to the voice that is usually so sarcastic and fiesty with him, but Carter at this point knows it by heart. Blue eyes look up and freeze at the sight in front of him. Hair pinned back with just a bit of makeup but bright red lips. They match your knee-length dress and jacket in its red-and-black combo with red heels to finish the combo.

He’s mesmerized, making a reminder that he needs to give Cameron extra the next time he sees her. He gets tunnel vision for a moment, as you get closer to him -- a worried look on your face.

“I’m sorry, something happened to the Chanel dress last minute. Cameron found this though,” you sway a little to emphasize the new dress and smile, “I think it looks better though.”

“Yeah, it looks great,” he tries to says as nonchalant as possible before grabbing your hand, though you give him a look that causes him to laugh, “None of that tonight. Smile and sell what you gotta for those kids, but not everything.”

His joke causes you to shake your head but he can feel you ease up just a little at you take your first steps into the large and highly decorated ballroom . Your eyes growing for moment.

“Mr.Bai--” you start, only to have him cut you off.

“ Tut tut , it’s Carter for tonight,” he reprimands you, which causes you to frown as blue eyes stare at your red lips for a moment. He knows for sure they are going to be a distraction for the rest of the night. But, instead of listening to whatever fears you might have due to fully emerging into the world of the filthy rich and famous of NYC, he just grabs your hand tighter and pulls you head first into the shark den. It was a bit harsh, but he knew you had it in you.

“Don’t forget to smile,” he chuckles quietly as the first old, wealthy couple makes its way to the two of you.

 Carter knows that there might some ramifications in letting you go on your own to talk to people here and there throughout the event. You were fresh meat for them without the cynical nature some rich people had. There was also the chance that someone might get too touchy-feely with you or someone talked in a certain way about your relationship with him because there were also rumors floating around when it came to him. But, he believed in your level-headedness and natural charisma that seemed to shine in the oddest of moments, plus he knew by now that you cared deeply about cause like this.

Nevertheless, he always stays close to you and as he watches you work your magic on the Livingstons, then the Winthrops, hell even the old Vanderbilt heiress falls under your spell as he watches each one of them head up front and make a donation after talking to you. You just might be even better than him, as he watches you laugh and talk to a certain famous news anchor. And for a moment he wonders it this is just all naturally you or something you have cultivated from knowing Rocio for so long. Eventually after talking and mingling, you end up sitting in one of the many side tables, jacket resting on the chair, as he comes to your side.   

“So, how are you enjoying yourself?” he asks, as you look up from your small tray of finger food with a tired smile, though the effect from hours before still hasn’t faded away. He grabs your hand and drags you to the large dancing space. You groan in annoyance, but say nothing, which Carter considers a win as he slips a hand around your waist and you place a hand on his shoulder, frown in place like always. He’s just getting used to it to live with it.  

“It’s nice, I guess,” you explain after a smile, as the song dies and a new one begins. It isn’t the same as the garden party. There isn’t any joking around as the soft jazz music plays and he drags you just a bit closer.

“But, not your thing?” he asks, as you shake your head. You bit your lip in thought for a moment, as blue eyes zoom into the action before you start talking once more.

“Hmm, I’m sure that some people would love this glitz and glamour, spending time dancing and eating the best food while wearing an expensive dress,” you look down motion to said fancy thing before admitting the truth, “But in all honesty, I would rather be eating Thai with Monsieur right now.”

“Monsieur?” he has heard everything you had said, and while he mull over it later, Carter asks about the thing strange in that statement.  

“Ah, my pet cat,” you clarify as he nods, though ready to add something. However, you beat him to the punch, “And yes, I’ve already heard the old cat lady jokes.”

He laugh as you look away in embarrassment but then think about everything you had said on how you would rather be relaxing than putting up pretenses, and he can’t help but agree. So instead of going back to the table were your jacket is placed, he starts heading toward the entrance. In your confusion you protest just a little, though thankful that all your important stuff in a small pocket on the side of the dress as Carter Baizen drags you from the gala event --clock close to striking midnight-- and to god knows where.      

 You never make it an easy job for Carter Baizen to have you enter his car, as you frown and complain that you aren’t going anywhere without knowing to which borough he had in mind. He can’t help but reminisce to the party all those months back and grin before letting you know that you were heading to Brooklyn for some real food -- something your stomach greatly approved of. This lead to you and the Carter Baizen to be sitting in your formal wear on a bench on the side of of the Brooklyn Bridge with a pizza between the two of you. It’s silent for a long while, as both of you take your fill, though you try your hardest to make sure the dress doesn’t get any food on it. The silence eventually bothers Carter too much, as he asks the first thing that pops into his head, while staring at the murky waters not that far away.

“So, do you enjoy this type of stuff,” he asks as you turn to look at him, searching for a further explanation, “Charity, helping people?”

“You’re really are a rich boy,” you say with a little malice, as if you had an old anger for something you couldn’t stop years ago, “But, not everyone has the type of money to have preventative care or to pay for their medicine.”

“Who?” he can’t help but ask because he knew the everyone at Baizen Co. had a pretty good healthcare packet compared to other companies, especially you. So, it had to be something connected to your past and it go him curious.

“Doesn’t matter,” you cut him off from learning anything about the part of your life, before taking a bite of pizza, closing off this part of the conversation, “Nostalgia won’t bring the things you love back.”

“How noble of you,” he bites back like a child, as you frown.

“Ah… thank you for the backhanded compliment,” you bite back and he can’t help but be caught off guard that you are calling him back on his attitude in your own way.  

“I didn’t mean like that,” he gives a weak excuse as it’s your turn to have that particular grin on your face, in order to push back the unpleasant thoughts of what you had just talked about.

“Hmm,” is all you say as a response.

“You’re a tough one to crack,”  he admits in annoyance, before running a hand through his hair as it to emphasize his exasperation towards you even more. Though, he should know that the feeling was mutual by now.   

“Would you want it any other way?” you start before going off, while pointing at him with annoyance in your voice, but not much else as when he first meet you,  “Or do you enjoying having those young ladies falling at their feet, calling you nicknames, what are they --Saint Carter, Car Car -- while none of the work gets done? I’ve known you long enough to know that you appreciate efficiency over anything else.”

“Ah, you have me there,” he states with a shiteating grin on his face at your little tirade, leaning back onto the bench, full from the meal as he adds on,“Spitfire.”

“Now that’s a compliment, Mr. Baizen,” you nod, before adding much to his surprise, “So, got any good stories to tell?”

“Like what?” he asks while turning just to look at you -- more carefree than usual underneath the moon and streetlights that he wished he had a camera to capture the moment.  

“Like Texas or Machu Pichu?” you tease, remembering what Rocio had told you once from her own stories,  and hopeful to move the discussion into something happier, “Maybe even that Bass famous rivalry?”

“You really wanna hear about all that?” Carter asks, a curious uptick in his voice as he wonders why you would want to know about all the stupid things he had done back in his youth. You just shake your head and laugh.  

“Entertain me,” ( It’s a date isn’t it?) is the thing you want to tack on, but shut your mouth at such a thought, regardless of anything else this man was your boss ahead of anything else.

You pause even more staring at the pizza in your hand, as Carter starts telling you stories that have you laughing at his antics and the general attitude that all these rich people had, but you could see how this allowed Mr. Baizen to con them, though things didn’t always end up well for him as times either. And while you enjoy the rest of the night, you can’t help but think towards the end  -- when the hell did your view of Carter Baizen change?  

Don’t do it. You’ll just get hurt in the end.    

You hear Rocio’s words ringing in your head, completely unaware that said man was looking at you like you have hung yp all the stars in the sky.

Part 8

[gloves94]

La Vie En Rose [Bruce Banner] 1

An uncontrollable, green beast trapped inside a humble doctor. The key to this control: the white eyes of a pompous, materialistic jewel thief. Oh- and also, the world is ending. Best of luck to you both and the rest of the Avengers.

My life was simple.

Then again, it was simple when it was my life.

 Simplicity at its best considered on the simple pleasures of life. Egyptian cotton sheets, goose feather pillows, mimosas every day, and the best part all the jewels and gems that I could dream of.

 Oh, all the gems and jewels I could imagine.

 I thought of my precious babies and how they gleamed and sparkled in all different shades and hues of colors, all of them, different shapes and sizes.

 I don't discriminate; I love them all.

 This is my life. This was my life.

 I loved it, and I wouldn't change a single thing about it. I live for the lavish things in life. I believe life was made to be enjoyed and I was blessed with the proper gifts to enjoy it, which is something I don't intend on wasting.

 Only a few days ago had I been completely spread out in my luxurious king bed. I looked at the yellow canary ring that shined brightly upon my index finger; thus far my favorite and most expensive finger accessory.

It was then that I heard the elevator door open. I thought it was my morning breakfast, eggs benedict and crab cakes with a Moet Mimosa. I sat up, the slightest of smiles on my face. It soon twisted into a frown when I was greeted by two strangers standing at the entrance of my master bedroom. One was a man who wore a simple, black suit, the other was a gorgeous woman who had short red hair and wore a skintight black and crimson suit- and it was just downhill from there.

 Presently, I sat in a discrete private plane to India, it wasn't as lavish as to what I was used to, but it was something. A  pair of pitch black sunglasses had been practically glued to my head. I had been threatened not to remove them despite any circumstance that might arise. I looked at my newest companion with a scowl through the shades.  

Natasha Romanoff, also known as the deadly Black Widow looked back at me just as uneasily.

 "Can I take the glasses off?" I asked in a bored town my voice drawling at the end.

"No," she retorted with absolutely no amusement in her tone.

"Couldn't you have at least made these Chanel?" I scoffed rolling my eyes. The Black Widow remained stoic, her answer obvious.

 Her mood: frustrated and annoyed.

 Feeling just as frustrated I snapped the sunglasses off angrily. In that instant, she pointed a cold gun at my temple. With a sly grin, I snapped my pale eyes towards hers. Hers, however, remained tightly shut.

 "I just," sighing I looked around the small space in the jet. My mind racing as I sought an escape. "I still don't understand why I have to be of service."

"I didn't know your silly organization was this inefficient," I added.

 The tension was escalating; anger was beginning to flood her mind. The edge of my lips tugged up into a smirk. "The organization is far from inefficient, not is it silly," she said sharply emphasizing on the word 'silly.'

"The problem is that he-it, it is too strong. No one can control it. Perhaps only you can."

"Will you look at me for chrissake? I'm not going to do anything to you. It's not like I can, considering that this hideous vest that I'm wearing will literally kill me. Not to mention how unflattering it is," I ripped open my Versace jacket to show the Black Widow the control belt bomb that had been locked around my torso. One wrong move and “Boom!” I would be split splat, just like a Pollock.

 Agent Coulson, the man who got me involved in this, had managed to get this bomb on me. If I misbehaved, it would only take one click of a red button for my life to cease.

"Chill B.W.," I said once again rolling my eyes and looking at her gun annoyed.

 The Black Widow ignored her new nickname and finally opened her eyes and dared to look into mine. Her tense mood did not falter.

 "See," I said smugly buttoning up my fancy jacket.

     I barely got some sleep in that uncomfortable seat. I spent half of the flight either drowsing off or brushing my dark brown hair while looking vainly in a pocket mirror.

 It seemed like the Black Widow didn't sleep. She was almost robotic.

The only reason I was sure she was human was because her emotions were painfully obvious to me. It wasn't long before the bump of the plane hitting fresh ground awoke me.

 It was dark outside; the sun was setting.

 The Black Widow wouldn't speak to me unless spoken to, and even then she refrained from saying much. During the flight she had several files at hand, one was mine, another was the thing we were dealing with.  

I wasn't allowed to look at either.

 "So where in India are we?" I asked carefully stepping around the dirt in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. "Kolkata, West Bengal," she retorted in her monotone voice.

 "Is that near the Taj Mahal?" I asked ignorantly.

 Her mood: annoyed.

 She was rather irked. "Can we go visit the old Indian mines. I've heard the rubies are just divine."

 She glared, "we are not on vacation."

 The black widow continued barking orders as we skulked around the ghettos of Kolkata. People were dying in the streets of sickness and disease. I could see them, clear as day, elder women, children, men, even sick dogs lay with gaping mouths in hunger. Their only company seemed to be the hovering flies.

Pests, trash, and the dead cluttered the crowded streets which stanch of feces, urine and decomposed corpses. There was so much pain in these streets, so much suffering. It was overbearing.

 "I need a moment," I said holding onto my aching head.

 B.W. Looked at me curiously.

  "Do what you have to do, it's just... my head," I held onto my temples with both of my hands. My mind went blank for a minute. I didn't realize how much time had passed until Natasha returned and found me leaning against a wooden post clenching my teeth. I could feel that she was somewhat concerned.

"Come. It's all arranged," she said putting her emotions aside. I once again followed her in the dusk to a tiny hovel with broken walls and curtain windows. It stood alone in the distance.

"Should I be ready?" I asked slipping my hands into my pockets. She didn't respond. I hated her silent charade. "This is so pointless-" I kicked a nearby peddle away.  

"Stop!" She suddenly snapped losing her cool.

 Her mood: anger and frustration.

 It seemed like I was only able to have two mood effects on the poor woman.

 "Listen. Whether you like it or not you will cooperate. You have a long track record so be grateful that we didn't just throw you in barred four by four cage," she snapped. "Be quiet and do as I say. This is a delicate situation." She couldn’t emphasize it more.

 Natasha then explained how she had hired a local child to bring our target to the isolated, broken down shelter where we were stood. She said that our cue was when the child escaped the room. I couldn't handle this place anymore. The mood, the insects, the horrid stench. I just wanted this to be over so that I could be back in Las Vegas, anywhere else other than Kolkata. I was also getting hungry...

 It was just then that a little Indian girl ran inside of the shed and sprinted out through an open window. A dark-haired man followed after her and was left standing alone like an idiot. He stopped dead in his tracks. He knew.

 His mood: annoyed.

 He had been made a fool, and he knew it. He had been tricked.

It seemed like there were no positive emotions surrounding these people.

 "Should have got paid up front, Banner," Natasha stepped forward from behind the curtains. She had bothered to dress down to the colloquial attire of the area. A black shirt and a crimson red shawl.  

Her trademark colors.  

I refused to change my outfit, not caring if I stood out like a sore thumb. Like hell, I was going to remove my Dior Tribal earrings and my Versace outfit in the middle of nowhere India. Why couldn’t we be in Bengal? New Dehli? This was so frustrating…

He turned around quietly and eyed both of us cautiously. Banner was for less of a better word your average Joe.

Dark hair, dark eyes, there wasn't anything particularly outstanding about him. He wore cheap clothes. A brand less maroon shirt and dark pants. He carried a messenger bag with him. He had thick, bushy eyebrows and rounded facial features. His skin was tan from countless of days or walking under the harsh Indian sun.

"You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle," Natasha continued.

 Wait-

Was this our dangerous subject?

 Once again I scrutinized him. My eyes were snaking up and down his figure and poise. How was this man threatening? He certainly didn’t fit the part. Did he have to avoid the stress due to heart problems?

 "Avoiding stress isn't the secret," he retorted dully. I felt like I was missing something.  

"Then, what is it? Yoga?"

 I was clearly out of the loop of this conversation. Not that I cared enough to inquire, I merely wanted to get out of here. I didn't even bother in making an effort to hide my scowl.

 "You brought me to the edge of the city, smart. I uh... assume the whole place is surrounded?" He looked around the room anxiously and at both of us. I'll admit that I droned out for most of Banner and Natasha's conversation until I realized they actually addressed me.

 "And you?" he asked.

 I snapped my colored eyes to his. He blinked twice taken aback by them.

 His mood: curious.

 "Does it matter?" I retorted smugly keeping my eyes peeled wide open.

If it weren't for this man- ugh...

"Are you both here to kill me? Because that's not going to work out for everyone."

"For who else?" I muttered to Natasha growing more and more annoyed by the second. An effect I realized I had on her.  

"Can we get out of here?" I added whining like a child.

"No. No. Of course not. I'm here on behalf of SHIELD."

"I'm not." I butted in shamelessly. Natasha ignored me.

"Can we get out of here? We can talk about this on the plane, yes?" I repeated almost pleading her.  

"Where are you taking me?" He asked, his eyes narrowed.

"We've always kept our distance from you doctor, but never lost sight. We've even helped keep some other interested parties off your scent."  

"Why?" I beat the man to the question asking with knitted eyebrows.

"Will someone tell me what I’m doing here? That is, besides wasting my time!" I exclaimed frustrated. "This man isn't dangerous!" I said approaching him carelessly. "He's a doctor," I drawled annoyed. "He saves lives," I added matter of factly.

Natasha began to become exasperated once again. Her glare said it all. 'Don't you dare,' her eyes threatened.

 Banner couldn't help but chuckle.

 "I think... the other guy might disagree with you," he said dangerously his mood becoming darker. I huffed cockily.

"Whatever, I'm not scared of anybody," I said tossing my long hair over my shoulder. It slapped the doctor in the face as I walked away. He brushed his nose and frowned at the rude gesture. Natasha proceeded to explain how  the world was about to face a potential global catastrophe. She spoke about something called a Tesseract and potential power it possessed to wipe out the planet.  

This caught my interest...

 That thing, whatever it was, had to be absolutely priceless. The Tesseract, I wondered just what it was… It was then that Natasha pulled a tablet from her messenger bag and displayed it for the doctor.

My eyes slightly widened at the sight of the glowing cube like- gem.

Was that a shaped blue diamond? I could feel my mouth greedily watering at the pure thought of-

 I momentarily escaped reality and pictured myself in an even fancier penthouse, wearing, perhaps a necklace made out of the Hope Diamond? No one to bother me, no one to tie me up to explosives and boss me around... I didn't realize that my emotions were beginning to manifest until Natasha snapped the image from her tablet off and her attention was back from the doctor and me.

 "Quit it," she almost growled out at me.

"D-Did your eyes just change color?" Banner asked looking at the vanishing green hues in them.

"No," I lied rudely, scoffing, and stepped away from both of them.

"Her eyes just changed color," he stated the obvious, shocked. His eyes remained on mine. I didn't remove my now colorless eyes away from him. I could tell he was intrigued by my unnatural gaze.

 "Nick Fury trusts you." Natasha swayed the conversation.

"He wants you to find it. It has been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for us to trace. There's no one that knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, that's where I'd be.” She explained.

"Gamma Radiation? But isn't this man a medical doctor?" I asked. Once again, I was ignored.

"So Fury isn't after the monster? He doesn't need me in a cage?" Banner inquired, his mood shifting, eyes hard.

 "No one's gonna put you in a..." Natasha persuaded.

"STOP LYING TO ME!" he suddenly snapped in a thunderous tone. Natasha quickly grabbed her gun and pointed at him. She exchanged a confused look with me since I had no reaction at the man's outburst.  

"He's not mad," I retorted feeling that the man was actually feeling sheepish.

 He stood straight up like an arrow smiling. He had an odd sense of humor.

  "I'm sorry. That was mean. I just wanted to see what you'd do. Why don't we don't we do this the easy way, where you don't use that, and the other guy doesn't make a mess? Okay?"

"The other guy? You talk as if you were Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," I commented.

"Something like that..." He said with that same smile. His eyes marked by exhaustion.

"You won't be locked up," Natasha continued. "And I won't need to use my weapon. That's why she's here," she nodded her head towards me. I crossed my arms over my chest tapping my foot anxiously.

"Can we go? Now?" I asked insensitively sincerely not caring that the world was in peril.

"And what are you going to do?" He asked with a charming smile towering over me.

"Hold the Big Guy down? Rattle your jewelry to distract him with glimmer and glam?" He clearly wasn't threatened by me.

 I glared at him and smugly smiled at him. For a brief moment, I allowed my white irises to flash in a bright orange hue of annoyance. He felt this emotion rapidly shift and gave a step back started by his sudden change in mood. His jaw tightened, and instead of fear, I could sense the growing curiosity in him.

FIRST: [Here] NEXT: Chapter 2

[xalmasyx]

Retail Hell - Chapter 6

Words: 1,758

Series: Yu-Gi-Oh!

Pairings: Seto Kaiba/OFC

Warnings: Just a few swears.

AO3 Link

Rose stared at the receipt in her hands impassively.

Surely they couldn’t be this stupid.

“What seems to be the problem?”

She stood corrected.

Adjust glasses to bridge of nose. Deep breath in, and then out. Okay, you got this Rose.

“Ma’am, this receipt is not from our store, it’s from the Armani store in Tokyo. And we don’t even stock this suit.”

The woman glared at her as if she insulted her first born child.

Oh, if only that were the case. The woman was most definitely using her husband’s credit card to fill her face with plastic. Their kids must be hideous.

“What is the problem with that? It’s an Armani, you sell those here!”

“Not that particular style. I can’t refund it.”

Rose could sense it, those eight words that usually rung true with every difficult housewife she encountered.

“I would like to speak to your manager.”

And there it was! Right on time.

“Sure thing. Just one moment.”

And with a passive aggressive smile she was able to free herself from another insufferable customer that could not fathom that you just cannot return goods to any store of your choosing.

It left her thinking what kind of suits Kaiba’s now fired stylist had made him wear during meetings and press conferences. Suits that were so bad that he disposed of them.

Did he actually dispose of them? Or donate them?

Maybe she could salvage them and make tacky dog suits for Gloria if the pattern designs were horrible enough.

Pfft, nah. That would be asking too much to ask Seto Kaiba to donate his shitty old suits to be made into dog clothes.

Loud barking echoed through the halls of Rose’s shared unit as Gloria actively lost her shit at the doorbell chiming ‘Au Calire De La Lune’ in its high pitched entirety and she was just about ready for her date.

‘I’ll be at your door at 7:30, be ready.’ Kaiba’s text message said, lighting her phone up ostentatiously at her vanity as she put on the finishing touches of her light makeup. The clock on the top right hand corner of the screen only said 7:15.

He was early.

Damnit.

She would have to entrust that Veronica held the common sense not to answer the door wearing what she was last seen in; a pair of tight fitting booty shorts and a tank top, completely braless and nipples free to do as they please whilst the air conditioner was going on full blast in their living room. The damn American just loved frigid temperatures inside the house and Rose could never understand why.

Sighing, she moved to her closet to pick out her dress. Whilst she had many formal outfits, many of them clashed with her deep purple locks; which she had meticulously styled in a bun, leaving her bangs to frame her face, so she chose to wear a lilac knee length, low cut maxi dress that she had sewn for one of her assessments earlier in the year. It accentuated her curves perfectly and would do even more so once she put on her white kitten heels at the front door, the chiffon and polyester draped over her body mirroring the A+ she had received for such a well designed and well fitted item.

It showed more of the Blue Eyes White Dragon tattoo on her breast than she would have liked, but it was better than nothing.

She clasped a dainty silver chain around her neck with a single teardrop diamond that sat at her clavicle before exiting her bedroom to face the music, suddenly becoming nervous about what Kaiba would think of her choice of outfit.

Surely he can’t be expecting brand names from a university student.

Her fears were short lived as she made her way into the living room. Kaiba had snapped up from the couch, mouth slightly agape as he took in her features. He scrubbed up quite nicely too in the navy blue Calvin Klein suit that she picked out for him earlier in the day.

And it looked like Gloria had made a new friend, the Corgi gazing up adoringly at Kaiba as he regarded Rose in an impressed silence.

Veronica was too engrossed in playing the Dante Must Die mode in Devil May Cry 4 to care.

“Uh, you look nice Kaiba.”

“Likewise.”

Oh yeah, this date was going to go swimmingly.

The first half of the limo ride was filled with an awkward silence. It left Rose wondering about the legality in the tinted windows that adorned the car, she could see the passing cityscape into the CBD of Downtown Domino, but she doubted that anyone could see in.

That alleviated her worries about her face being in photos, at least.

The only other problem was…

“Hey Kaiba.”

“What is it?” He seemed particularly unphased by her breaking the silence.

“Well… I don’t want my face in photos. You know- I uh. Well, I don’t want the whole world knowing that we’re dating just yet.” She began fiddling with her freshly manicured fingernails, her damn nervous habit of saying ‘well’ way too much rearing its ugly head.

Please be nice, please be nice, please be nice.

“Has this got something to do with the fact that none of your pictures on your online profiles lack your face?” Perceptive, as always.

“Uh yeah, I suppose.” She shifted her gaze to see his sapphire eyes watching her curiously. He had every right to question her; she wasn’t being particularly honest with her origins.

With time she would be. She hoped.

He looked like he was about to respond, until a familiar game’s victory theme chimed in the air, coming from Rose’s purse.

“Uh, do you mind if I answer that?” He shook his head no so she reached into her purse to find that her grandmother was calling her.

Such perfect timing Grandma.

It didn’t stop her face from lighting up though. It had been a long time since she last spoke to her grandparents.

“Hi Grandma.” Kaiba raised his eyebrow at her and she just smiled back.

‘An- Rose! How are you my dear?’

“Good, good. And how are you and Grandpa?”

‘Oh you know… we just keep on keeping on.’

“And the animals?”

‘Oh they’re fine as always. The hens are laying quite well considering the horrendous weather.’

“Ah that’s right, it snowed in Ballarat last month, didn’t it?”

‘Yes, quite interesting indeed. Your grandfather and I would have made snow angels but I’m afraid you would not be able to get us back up!’

Rose laughed, but she shouldn’t really ignore her date much longer. She looked to Kaiba with a mischievous glint in here eye which he returned with his own look of confusion.

“Hey Grandma…”

‘Yes Rose?’

“I’m actually on my way out to dinner with my new boyfriend.”

‘WHAT?!’

She was certain Kaiba heard that.

‘Who is he? How old is he? He better be well behaved! You are the only thing of your mother’s we have le-’

“Grandma. Stop.” Best to nip that in the bud quickly. “Why don’t you say hello? His English is quite good.”

He’s most certainly never met anyone like Rose Brikmore, otherwise he probably would have kicked her out of the car the very moment she suggested such a thing. Instead, he wordlessly reached out his hand to take her phone.

“Nuh uh, Grandma is a trouble maker. I’m putting her on speaker.”

He smirked at her, “At least I know where you get it from.”

“Oh ha, ha.”

‘Come on kids, English. My old ears can’t understand much else!’

“Oh alright, Grandma say hello to Seto Kaiba.”

‘Hello Seto Kaiba, you can call me Bernie, everybody around here does.’

“Understood, Bernie. Seto is fine by me.”

So her Grandma is allowed to call him by his first name?

Figures.

Still, his pronunciation was quite impressive. But he was the CEO of Kaiba Corp. She shouldn’t be surprised.

‘Hmm Seto. What do you do? You better not be some cheap delinquent!’ Was he really going to entertain that notion?

Oh no, he’s smirking. Was it time to abort?

Yeah let’s do that.

Let’s just-

“I’m afraid not. I’m actually the CEO of Japan’s biggest gaming technology company.”

Then there was silence.

“…Grandma?”

‘Bullshit.’

“Huh?”

‘How old are you?’ She didn’t believe him.

“Twenty.”

Silence, again.

‘…Bullshit.’

Oh Grandma.

“Grandma, do me a favour and get Grandpa to Google Kaiba.”

‘You best not be joking around young lady… TREVOR! Turn your hearing aid up! No I will not come over, turn that bloody thing up! Rose is asking you to Google Seto Kaiba. Why? He’s her boyfriend apparently. I don’t know I haven’t asked yet. Rose dear, how long have the two of you been together?’

“Just today, Grandma.”

‘Just today Trevor!’

Rose was hoping Kaiba wasn’t getting annoyed, but when she looked at him, he was actually amused.

This was so out of character from what she expected of him. Not once did she imagine that he would entertain the thought of speaking to her grandparents over the phone before they commenced their second date.

But here they were.

‘Oh… not bullshit.’

“No Bernie, it’s not.”

‘You’re quite handsome, for a Japanese bloke.’

“You flatter me.”

‘Are my great gandbabies going to look like you?’

“GRANDMA!” Rose nearly dropped her phone in shock and she heard her grandmother laugh. Even Kaiba looked shocked at her forwardness.

That sly old woman.

‘I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I suppose I should leave you two to your date.’

Coincidentally, at that very moment the driver announced that they had arrived at their destination. It was a place that the affluent frequented, Rose could immediately tell by the amount of flashes pointed at the limo. The paparazzi were everywhere.

“Yeah, thanks Grandma. I’ll speak to you later.”

‘Goodbye Seto, look after my little girl for me will you?’

“Of course I will Bernie, goodbye.”

Rose didn’t notice Kaiba slip off his jacket. She was too busy looking out at all the cameras flashing at the car. How the hell was she supposed to get past that?

“Rose,” She turned around for him to drape the jacket over her head. “It’s not perfect, but they won’t see your face. Just stay close to me.”

Somehow, through practiced precision, Kaiba was able to get her through the sea of reporters and photographers without showing her face once.

Just another thing to thank him for, she guessed.

[etoilesdephan]

Ubi sunt qui ante nos fuerunt? (Chapter 1: Memento mori)

Chapter masterpost

Summary: After a heated, recurring argument, Dan leaves the apartment to calm down. Little did they know that by Dan walking out on his and Phil's fight, both of their lives will change drastically. It's a story of how unfortunate coincidences and an unjust sentence can forever change a person.

(Originally based on this prompt (SPOILERS) by @free-to-being (It won't let me tag you :c ): Someone almost kills Phil,he is left in a coma. Dan,his boyfriend,is sent to jail unjustly. A couple of years latter Phil wakes up and clears Dan's name. Phil is left with the trauma of his attempted murder and loosing years of his life. Dan is left with the trauma of his time in prison (prison non-con). They still love each other but the road back to each other is hard with all the trauma they've been through. You can throw in a culprit that still wants blood)

Read it on ao3!

Trigger warnings: Near Death Experiences, Rape/Non-con Elements, Depression, Anxiety, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Brief clinical death, Blood, Attempted murder, Violence, Swearing, Homophobia, Homophobic slurs (Let me know if I have missed anything and I will add the warnings!!)

Word count: 2621/?????

A/N: So this is a new fic that I suddenly got an inspiration for and have been working on for a week or so! Hope that you will enjoy it through the dark themes!

Posting schedule: Every Sunday.

“Can we not do this right now, Dan? I have to get this done--” but Phil didn't get to finish his sentence when a sneer interrupted him, an angry Dan glaring down at the older man, arms crossed over his chest.

It felt like they had fallen back to 2012, and it felt so sudden. They were angry more frequently and the small things were blown out of proportions by both of them. Of course, at first they had held back, but eventually they would explode, voices raising in volume, red blotches covering pale faces, arms waved around and things kicked.

Doors slammed.

“You fucking promised that you would talk to me before agreeing to anything. It's not just your AmazingPhil stuff on the line here, okay?! Just pull your head out of your ass once in awhile,” Dan practically hissed and Phil's brow twitched in annoyance as he pushed himself up from his seat to look Dan directly in the eyes. Though it was different from 2012 and he wasn't looking down at Dan anymore, it still felt the same, with the heat of the anger blurring his vision. His voice trembled through the attempt to keep it calm “I told you that I was interested in this. I told you and maybe if you would actually listen to me for once you would know what you're agreeing to.”

Dan's face darkened at that. Sure, he talked a lot, he knew that, but who in the bloody hells did Phil think he was, accusing Dan of not listening.

“Fuck you,” he spat back, and there was every bit of malice in that simple phrase. He stepped forward, closer to Phil, whose features had always been so beloved to Dan and yet now all he wanted to do was punch the delicate jaw and the sharp cheekbones “Fuck. You. Philip Lester. I have paid more attention to you than anyone else. Ever. But apparently that's not enough for the baby little brother Lester and throwing insults is all he can succumb to when faced with the fact that you are pretty much selling my brand when I didn't agree to it.”

“First off, it's our brand,” Phil leaned closer, shoulders tense, teeth gritting hard and his usually soft blue eyes had turned into ice, burning into the dark onyx depths of Dan's dilated pupils. “Secondly, I told you I am not selling it, I have not agreed to anything yet, I just told we were interested,” he huffed out a breath, and the action as if irritated the younger man even more, hands suddenly rested against Phil's chest to push him and he stumbled, nearly falling over the office chair.

“You know what, fuck this, you're singing a different song here now than just an hour ago, I can't deal with this absolute bullshit of yours,” before Phil had even regained his footing, Dan had turned and left the office. He could hear the angry footsteps across the apartment and he expected to hear Dan's bedroom door to slam shut, but instead he heard the steps coming back through the apartment and then….

“Dan, where are you going?” Phil leaned over the railing of the hallway stairs, looking down at Dan's retreating figure into the darkness, all clad in a black as always.

“Out.” his voice was final and Dan, pulling on his shoes and throwing the hood over his head, left, the door slammed shut, loudly, and any other day they would've been impressed about how the glass didn't break, but today neither of them cared.

“D-Dan!'' Phil only managed to call out after him, surprised, concerned. A brief look at the watch told him that it was near 2 in the morning and a sense of worry washed over Phil.

=====

It felt like an hour later that Dan finally regained his composure, having practically ran for the first few blocks, unsure of where he was headed, before he'd stopped and continued on pacing down the wet night streets, the drizzle making the air humid once again, making his hair curl with every passing minute.

He felt the eyes on him from the very few people that he passed by. For it was odd to be awake at such a late hour on the week day and though their neighbourhood was considerably safe, Dan soon found himself venturing back towards where their home was.

He heard the few cars that passed by, and the far away sirens of a police car and that of an ambulance.

Sounds that were normal to the London life and he relaxed, gradually, the coolness of the thin raindrops finally wiping away the initial anger that had taken over when he'd seen the papers on the dining table earlier that night. The anger had been sudden, like frequently in the past weeks. Or had it been months by now?

Idly, he kicked at a squished can, listening to the scraping metal sound as it slid and rolled across the pavement. He felt as his phone began to vibrate and arched a brow at that. It was always that when they fought, it would be at some point that Phil would text him, but never call.

He was even more confused that it was an unknown number on his screen. Usually he would have dropped the call, but, pressing his lips together and leaning against a nearby lamppost, he finally picked it up “Hello?”

“Is this Daniel Howell?” The voice, completely unfamiliar but urgent, questioned on the other side of the line and his brows knit together at that. Though generally calmer after the earlier happenings, his body shivered, a sense of dread coursing through his veins like tiny icicles suddenly “Depends on who's asking,” he replied and though he kept his voice steady, it was low and curious.

When the woman spoke up next, however, he almost wished that he hadn't picked up. That by ignoring the call he would never have to hear the words that next spilled through the speaker “I am calling on behalf of Philip Lester, he was stabbed earlier tonight and you were listed as his main emergency contact.”

His heart stopped. It felt like it fell to his stomach and that together they fell through the pavement. His mind turned into a white blur of words and he had to lean into the lamppost more, his knees suddenly feeling like they were made out of jello.

He was stabbed earlier tonight.

The words floated through his mind, repeating in an increasing cacophony of echoes within his skull and suddenly he gasped, realising that he had began sliding down the lamppost and towards the ground. Instead, he leaned his hand against the nearby trash bin, to hold himself upright “He is currently undergoing surgery,” the words struck him like a lightning made out of different emotions. Phil had been stabbed, but they were operating him and that meant that he would live.

He had to live.

He had to survive.

He couldn't just up and leave Dan like this.

He didn't even realise when the drizzling rain on his face had been exchanged with the salty tears until he hiccupped loudly and the woman on the other end paused her explanation of the situation. “He is in the hands of the best surgeons in the country,” her voice was suddenly hushed, gentle, and the urgency had been replaced with something motherly instead. “If it helps, you can come to the hospital, it will take a while for the surgery to complete, but you're allowed to wait.” Dan, voice strained, managed to mutter out a “Please,” and as soon as the call was over, with trembling fingers he dialed for a cab.

He had to get to Phil. He couldn't bear the idea of possibly being late and his leg jumped when the cab seemed to be too slow and he threw some random banknotes at the driver while jumping out of the car to rush, stumbling over his own feet, into the hospital and up to the reception.

“Philip Lester, he's- he- I was called--” he couldn't finish his sentence, but the receptionist that he addressed only nodded, while giving a knowing look to the other one who soon brought over a cup of water for Dan. He completely ignored it though, fingers trembling as he pulled at the hem of his jacket “Come on!!” he finally called out when no directions were given yet, but the voice had a higher pitch and dissipated into nothing but a silent squeak. “You are mister Howell, correct?” he frantically nodded and the receptionist noted it down “C wing, down the hall over there, but he probably won't be out for another few hours,” subconsciously Dan realised that he paled even more, when the woman looked at him worriedly, like he was about to collapse ''He came in with a punctured lung and possible concussion,” Dan nodded, numbly, before pushing himself away from the receptionist counter and staggering across the hall and into the direction of the waiting room. He sucked in short breaths, eyes stinging with tears and nails digging into the skin of his palms.

The red of the sign announcing the operation room being in use was the final blow and his knees buckled when he leaned against the nearest wall, unable to comprehend the situation any longer. How could this happen? He had been at home-- Had their home been broken into when he left? Had Phil been left to fend alone against an unexpected robber? Had Dan literally left his best friend, the one person who meant him the most in the world alone, to possibly….

He couldn't even finish the thought, breath hitching again and he couldn't keep himself together anymore, curling up against the wall, knees pulled close. He couldn't hear anything, only felt a hand on his shoulder when someone from the hospital staff noticed him, a miserable mess on the waiting room floor, his face pressed tightly against his knees and the fabric of his jeans cutting into his wet cheeks painfully as he lied on his side but felt absolutely nothing but the pain in his chest.

“Dan,” someone shook him, a bigger hand against his shoulder, a voice breaking through the foggy panic. “Dan, come on, sit up,” It took him a while to understand the words, to make the firmness of the voice finally sink in only what felt like minutes later. Slowly, he allowed himself to be pushed up and through the bleariness of his gaze, he could pinpoint Martyn's features, the older man looking at him worriedly, but that was wrong. No, Martyn shouldn't be worried about Dan right now. His younger brother was in there, being pieced back together. He wanted Martyn to be angry at him right now, for leaving Phil alone like that, for allowing this to happen.

“Come here,” he allowed the older Lester brother to pull him up and sit on the waiting room chair. Another set of steps soon came into the field of his senses and suddenly something red floated into his vision “Dan, drink some water,” Cornelia's voice reached him before he even realised that a paper cup was being pressed against his lips. He obeyed, taking a sip, nearly choking on it.

He felt Martyn sit down, by his side, and Cornelia's warm arms wrapping around his shoulders and a soothing hush near his ear. He felt the comfort of being surrounded by those who cared just as much as he did. By people who truly wished for this night to be just a nightmare.

“I-I'm so sorry,” he finally managed to mutter after a while once he had been coaxed into drinking some more water and when his tears had been dried with a rough paper towel “I s-should have-- should have been th-there,” he hiccupped before he pressed the cup against his lips again, hands trembling so hard that he nearly spilled the water until he bit into the side of the cup, angry. Angry at himself and whoever had done this.

“It's not your fault, Dan,” he felt Martyn's slightly trembling hand on his shoulder, the other man's voice a lot steadier than his own but he could feel the strained edge. Cornelia was sitting next to him, holding his other hand, tightly, in both of hers and Dan could only imagine that it was her support that allowed Martyn to keep his composure in the situation.

“I called mum, she and dad will arrive as soon as they can get on the first flight to London,” It was clear, the part left out was that she had been devastated by the news. “Should we call your family too?” Cornelia asked tentatively. Dan just shook his head “I- no, its not their business,” he dismissed the idea, and somehow it really didn't feel like it was the business of Howells, no, this was Phil and the only reason Dan was here was because he had been given the privilege of basically becoming a part of the Lester family all those years ago.

Years.

It felt like centuries had passed since the two had first met, all shy at first though they had talked on Skype for hours to no end. Two dumb boys with similar, too emo haircuts, the time when Dan had to look upwards to see Phil's face properly and when they didn't know how long and rich of a time was in front of them. As colleagues, as best friends, as lovers. They had become a family and through all the hardships they had remained together.

All that past, all the future still ahead of them that was on the verge of being taken away.

Dan sat there, frozen, teeth digging into the paper of the cup, eyes staring at the white floor unseeing. It felt like he had aged, suddenly, by twenty years, realising how much was on the line on this fateful night.

The sound of the door opening made him bolt upright, the empty cup clattering on the floor and instantly forgotten. A man, in his late forties but already with a clearly graying hairline, had emerged from the operation hall and was now looking up at the three people in front of him.

“He'll live,” the first words washed over them like the biggest relief and Dan had to sink back into the seat. For the first time since the call he could breathe in properly, though the action hurt and made him dizzy “He got lucky, the blade missed his heart and any important arteries by a good centimeter, but his left lung suffered damage to the top part,” he could feel his chest clenching at those words as he watched the greying man “We had to medically induce a coma, he hit his head quite strongly upon the fall, so it might take a while for him to come through it. His status is, however, stable currently.”

Martyn released a relieved sigh while Cornelia hugged him close “Thank you,” he breathed and Dan couldn't remember the time that he would have heard Martyn so relieved. It caused another pang of guilt in Dan.

“We're not sure how soon he will wake up, however,” the man said, after a brief hesitation “He was in a very critical state when he came in, and his body will need a long time until it can finally repair itself. We lost him for half a minute.''

It was then that his mind zoned out and the absolute blankness took over.

He had almost lost him.

He had lost him, even if briefly.

[isisprosser]

Animals

First XCOM-related thing I’ve written and it’s literally just a non-canon thing of silliness because I was depressed at the time.

Thought someone might enjoy it anyway.

With how ADVENT was bound and determined to eliminate all animals from the Earth, she supposed it was only natural there’d be people doing everything they could to preserve as many of Mother Nature’s beloved, albeit extraordinarily destructive children as possible. She knew, deep down, what an admirable goal this was.

Even so, as a small corgi puppy decided pulling on her pantleg was a splendid idea, XCOM Commander Takashi Lund mostly thought about how much she loathed animals.

“You can stop now,” Takashi glared down at the corgi, gritting her teeth as the golden ball of fluff slobbered all over her boot. It kept pulling on the navy blue fabric, growling like a vehicle engine. Takashi clenched her fists. “Listen here, Fido, if you don’t stop whatever the hell this is, I swear, I am going to…”

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” Takashi resisted the overwhelming desire to just scream and probably throw up as the woman dashed into view, covered head to toe in birds and lemurs. The woman smiled nervously. “We’ve been really busy, as I’m sure you’re aware, but Dr. Moreau –don’t ask me about that name- will be able to see you shortly! Again, I’m so sorry.”

“If you could refrain from stepping any closer, that’d be great,” Takashi seethed, and the woman stepped back. “Thank you, perfect, just stay there if you aren’t actually going to go away. Oh, if you’d be so kind, can you get this damn mutt off me?”

The woman blinked, and then looked down at the corgi right as it tore a chunk of fabric away, exposing part of Takashi’s ankle. It let out a bark of victory, keeping the soaked fabric in its mouth. Takashi’s eyes flashed with anger, and the woman’s grew wide with terror. “O-Oh! Bad dog, bad! That’s not very nice! Go play somewhere else!”

The corgi hopped away in triumph, carrying its prize as the woman chased it down the hall. Takashi’s rage didn’t cool in the slightest, and she looked at her ruined pantleg and drenched boot. Some of the corgi’s saliva even made contact with her skin!

Absolutely disgusting.

“I think you’ve made a spiritual connection with that corgi,” Bradford commented, and didn’t even flinch when Takashi whirled around to glare at him. “It’s just a puppy, Takashi. It doesn’t know any better. God, you look like it just murdered everything you love. Lighten up a little, will ya?”

“Don’t call me Takashi,” she grumbled, crossing her arms and holding her head up high as if she was above everything. “We’ve been over this. Hundreds of times.”

“Whatever you say, sunshine.”

Takashi hardened her glare and clenched her fists, shaking like an explosive just waiting to go off. Instead of erupting into incoherent rage and copious amounts of swearing, she stood upright and took in a deep breath to calm herself. The glare melted away, but her default expression of looking ticked off about something or another remained. She turned her back to Bradford, staring down the hall and waiting for Dr. Moreau. She couldn’t wait to give the doctor a piece of her mind.

And then she heard it.

A high-pitched mewl, nothing more than a little squeak at best. It sounded like an angel, one that was begging for help, for salvation, for simple affection. The voice of a pitiful creature in desperate need of love in a world so cold and cruel.

Takashi looked down and saw a snow white kitten with bright blue eyes. At least, she thought it was a kitten, as it looked more like a tiny white blob with stubby legs, a pointy tail, and huge eyes. Must’ve been a newborn, she reasoned, one that had just learned how to walk and beg strangers for food and cuddles.

This might’ve worked on weaker people, in fact Takashi thought she heard Bradford let out a disgustingly delighted noise at the kitten. But it didn’t work on her.

“Go bug someone else,” Takashi raised her left foot and gingerly nudged the kitten with it, pushing the mewling feline across the floor and away from her. “Go chase some mice, go puke up a million furballs, I don’t give a damn, just do it away from me.”

The kitten latched onto Takashi’s boot with its tiny, yet sharp claws, getting pulled along the floor when Takashi moved her foot back. Once the movement ended, the kitten whined again and pulled itself on top of the boot, pawing at Takashi’s leg.

“Get off of me,” Takashi growled, wanting desperately to launch the kitten into the air. She kept that desire bottled up, well aware Dr. Moreau would have choice words to say if she so much as misplaced a hair on one of his precious animals. What kind of guy calls himself Dr. Moreau when his goal is to preserve animal life, anyway?

Undaunted, the kitten hooked its claws into the fabric of Takashi’s pants, almost reaching her skin. It looked up at her and let out a shrill squeak, beginning the treacherous journey of climbing up Takashi’s pantleg.

“Central, would you do me a favour and remove this thing before it does something we’ll all regret?” Takashi hissed through clenched teeth, her body frozen and unable to grab the kitten to pull it away. Silence greeted her. “Central? The cat, please. Get rid of it. I don’t care what you do with it. Marry it if you want, just get it away from me. Central, are you even listening-“

Takashi turned around to see Bradford covering his mouth, trying very hard to keep himself from laughing. Judging by the way his body was shaking and the mischievous glint in his eyes, his attempts were ending in complete failure. She narrowed her eyes, and that only made him shake more.

“Useless,” Takashi huffed, turning away and then letting out a yelp of surprise and pain when the kitten’s claws poked her stomach. She glared at the furry menace, biting back another yelp with each passing second as the kitten continued to climb. “Okay, I’ll admit, your claws are actually pretty sharp. That’s great for you, now would you stop digging into me already?”

The kitten responded with a pitiful meow, and continued its daring climb to whatever. Takashi’s left eye twitched when she saw the kitten getting too close to her face. Ignoring the mental cries of disgust, she moved one hand behind the kitten, holding it up while her free hand gingerly grabbed its tiny paws and yanked them from her shirt. “Yeah, no. Your journey ends here.”

Takashi froze at the feeling of the kitten’s soft, warm fur on her skin, and a tingling sensation went through her bones. The kitten reached a delicate paw out, touching Takashi’s chest and feeling her heartbeat against the pads of its paw. It placed its other paw over her heart and started kneading with both, and she stood there staring at it, her brain unable to process what her eyes were seeing.

“You have been blessed,” Bradford said, and Takashi didn’t bother to turn and look at him. “That kitten has chosen you. I’m not sure why, I’m pretty sure it could do better, but it could also do a lot worse. Rejoice.”

But Takashi continued to stand there like a statue, holding the kitten in her hands while it kneaded her chest. Her mind had crashed, her heartbeat had synced itself with the kitten’s, time had ceased to move, and all that existed was the warmth of the kitten against her cold heart of stone.

“Blessed, huh…” Takashi whispered, regaining a bit of control over her own mind.

She smiled, letting the kitten’s warmth melt away the ice coating her heart. She felt like a brand new person, and in that moment, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

What she should’ve done at the beginning.

“Then how about you get blessed by this damn thing?” Takashi snarled, whipping around and thrusting the kitten into Bradford’s arms and ignoring its confused meows. “Take it! I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

“Hey, careful!” Bradford grumbled, rubbing the kitten’s head with his thumb to calm it down. “This baby is fragile.”

“Whatever. Just keep it away from me.”

Before Bradford could protest, Takashi stormed down the hall in search of Dr. Moreau. Once she disappeared from sight, he shrugged and looked down at the kitten, smiling as it reached its paw out to touch his chin. “Aww…”

And then he felt a weight on his boots and the bottoms of his pantlegs. He looked down, seeing a black kitten with green eyes climbing up his right leg while a black and white kitten with blue eyes rested on his boot. On his left leg, a calico kitten with copper eyes made its journey while a tortoiseshell kitten waited for its turn. All around him, other kittens sat and looked at him, patiently waiting to begin the climb of destiny.

Bradford blinked. “Oh my god. It’s the cat mafia.”

-

i have no explanation for this

none at all

[oliverphisher]

Maryanne O'Connor

What are one to three books that have greatly influenced your life?

Jane Eyre had a profound effect on me. I found it deeply moving and stirring, particularly the feisty and proud way Jane handles herself within a chauvinistic, class-driven society. That it was written by Charlotte Bronte in the mid-nineteenth century, a woman who lived a remote and sheltered existence on the moors in England, yet managed to pen this incredible tale, renders it one of the imaginative and inspired tales in history. Many say it is the first true feminist novel and it has certainly inspired my latest manuscript Sisters of Freedom. How extraordinary to consider that it still holds enormous impact one hundred and seventy odd years later, yet prose such as this cannot help but continue to move generations:

'Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart!'

'... it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal — as we are!' ― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre What purchase of $100 or less has most positively impacted your life in the last six months (or in recent memory)? My good guitar needed a lot of repairs and I kept putting off getting it fixed which meant I'd hardly played for quite a while. Playing is very meditative for me so when I saw a $50 guitar for sale I just picked it up on impulse. Since then I've played constantly once more, and it isn't just the musical creativity that I realized I'd missed, it's the fact that I tend to play outdoors and usually at sunset. There's so much pleasure to be had strumming a guitar while the day fades. A positive impact indeed. How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success?

It was a big challenge getting published and it took three years before I had any success. I honestly think most people would have given up but I'm very stubborn and determined, not always a good thing but fortuitous in this case. The rejection and hardship was very difficult to take but it taught me to work on my craft and I re-wrote the first manuscript over and again to get it right and be accepted. If I hadn't done that I don't think I would have been successful and I certainly wouldn't have the depth of gratitude that I feel every day in being a published author. Are there any quotes you think of often or live your life by?

My Dad used to always say 'every day is the best day ever' which I love. I also live by my own adage when it comes to writing 'if you lack inspiration simply begin, inspiration will follow'. That really cures writers block. You may start writing something you end up deleting but so far I have always found you do find inspiration as you go along. I also love Eleanor Roosevelt's quote 'the future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams' and Henri Frederic Amiel's 'Oh be swift to love, make haste to be kind'. What is one of the best investment in a writing resource you’ve ever made? A professional edit. That takes you from thinking you may be able to write a book to showing you what's missing so you can actually get published. What is an unusual habit or an absurd thing that you love? Hmmm, where to start? I love Vegemite toast with melted cheese (which I think is normal but I've been told is weird), singing ABBA songs while I cook, talking like a pirate, my husband's 'dad jokes' (when I asked him to help me think of a type of fever the other day he said 'boogie'), being pinned down by my lab cross Saxon every morning because he wants morning cuddles and loves me too much to let me get up, age-inappropriate dressing and standing in the garden with my fingers in my ears during close football games. Oh, and I also consider Homer Simpson the greatest comical hero of our time. But he's an absurdity everyone loves, surely. In the last five years, what new belief, behaviour, or habit has most improved your life? Absolute and complete belief that good news is always on it's way. What advice would you give to a smart, driven aspiring author? What advice should they ignore?

Again, get a professional edit, and really work on your craft - every day if you can. The more you write, and read, the better you'll get. My other big piece of advice is to never, ever give up. Rejection is just part of the gig for an aspiring author but if you keep working hard at it, listen to good advice and keep sending your words out there sooner or later it will happen for you. As for advice to ignore? Never let anyone tell you it's just too hard and to give up. It's worth the angst, believe me. What are bad recommendations you hear in your profession often?

Self-publishing is often made out to sound far easier than it actually is and I've seen people get disappointed. If you're keen to go down that road, however, make sure you really research the best inroads and marketing strategies. In the last five years, what have you become better at saying no to (distractions, invitations, etc.)?

Over-committing myself socially. If you're on a writing lock-down because you have a deadline you have to stay focused and pushing yourself in other areas will only make everything harder. There will be plenty of time for champagne when you finish - and all the more reason to celebrate! What marketing tactics should authors avoid?

Trying to do everything and ending up not doing any of it well. Personally, I put most of my marketing focus into Facebook rather than newsletter fan bases and multiple social media channels or other advertising. I do think it is very important to understand your own brand, your own audience and to be clear as what stories behind the stories or angles you intend to pitch to the media. What new realizations and/or approaches have helped you achieve your goals?

If I wake up in the middle of the night with an idea I get up and write now. It's going to keep me awake anyway and some of my best plot twists or character traits have been born in the wee hours of the morning. I also no longer worry that I'll run out of ideas. Every human walking has a story, it's just a matter of choosing an era and a setting and blending ideas together. When you feel overwhelmed or have lost your focus temporarily, what do you do?

I sit outside or go for a walk. Nature heals like nothing else can. Or I talk it out with a loved one - I've learned not to internalize worry. Any other tips?

Don't get so caught up on being successful or getting it 'right' that you stop enjoying yourself. If you're writing from the heart it's a privilege and as worry-ridden as it can be, ultimately it's a pure joy.

________

Enjoyed this Q&A? Want to discuss in more depth? Join Community Writers. You'll get access to 100+ exclusive writing tips. Q&As with successful authors, an exclusive ebook on building an audience and much more. Sign-up for free as a community writer here

[rmil2k]

16 Things You Can Do This Weekend to Streamline and Scale Your Business

Just in case at any point this year you’re sitting around wondering if there’s a unique weekend adventure you can embark on to help scale your business, I recommend bookmarking and saving this article. There’s lots to come back to. And if you experience a slow point with your business, you can use one of these activities to make sure you’re still growing and building.

P.S. This post was originally published in January 14, 2014, but has since been revamped and republished.

P.P.S. If you want a book version of this post with 36 more weekend activities (so yes, 52, one for each weekend of the year), please sign up below and I’ll send it over when it’s ready—which will be early January 2018.

16 Ideas You Can Choose from (This Weekend) to Help Streamline and Scale Your Business

1. Launch the MVP (minimum viable product) version of your course.

If you want to test out a course/training idea before building the full thing, then creating a landing page and minimum viable product version of your course is your new best friend.

Check out the checklist below for an idea of what goes on your MVP course landing page, but also check out the video directly below (ignore my voice that sounds like I’m fighting allergies—I was) that reviews some of my favorite MVP landing pages people made (some, in just one weekend) during a challenge I hosted.

The MVP Course Landing Page Checklist Here’s what you’ll want to have on hand or do:

working title for your course

URL for your landing page

rough outline of course content

optional: hashtag for your course

trademark check and Google check 
(this is a good idea because you will be using this course name and brand in commerce)

bonus freebie related to your course topic 
(think: checklist, tutorial, workshop, challenge, mini-course, or other resource you can send via email to interested audience members in exchange for their email address)

mockup of your bonus freebie

professional email address 
(this can be at your main business domain or your new course domain)

marketing email delivery platform (such as: ConvertKit, ActiveCampaign, or MailChimp)

high-quality photo of a scene related to your course topic or of you
to use on your MVP course landing page and/or in your marketing emails

content idea list related to your course topic 
(you can use this to send out engaging resources and keep your audience members engaged before your course launches)

optional: info packet about your course

optional: link and payment method to reserve a spot

2. Make a plan to crowdfund something.

Crowdfunding is kinda what it sounds like—a crowd (whether 10 people or 10,000) funding your idea. You can use sites like Indiegogo and Kickstarter to run your own crowdfunding campaign (which usually includes “prizes” for people who fund you, since the money is not a loan, you don’t have to pay it back).

Crowdfunding campaigns are not just good for the $$, but also the exposure. Several products have become somewhat to all the way “Internet famous” after a crowdfunding campaign.

Why? Friends, and even people who don’t know you, are motivated to share your brand and your campaign if they connect with something about it. You can use one of these sites to launch/re-launch a business, a book, a product, a product line, a creative project, really almost anything. 90% of the projects that I’ve supported are by people I don’t know at all.

Crowdfunding even allows you to get out there and start providing consulting services if you want to. Two examples for you: (1) A woman I know in real life “sold” $1000 consulting packages as some of the prizes for supporting her book release. No seriously, look at this thing. She raised almost $12,000. (2) A couple who wrote a children’s book also listed $1000 consultations, among other prizes, for the release of their book and raised over $10,000.

3. Create an online quiz with helpful results or a “prescription” of sorts.

One of the most irresistible types of audience magnets or freebie opt-ins (translation: something people will give you their email address to access) is an online quiz people can take to get some clarity in a field/goal they’re interested in.

Examples:

Discover Your Brand Tone: Are you a Serious Sally or a Irreverent Irene?

Take the Content Prescription Quiz—Know What to Send to Your Audience via Email and Why

What’s Your Dating Style? Take This Quiz to Find Out Why You’re Getting Bored So Fast

Why are quizzes so powerful though?

Well, not only do they appeal to the thing most humans have where we like to talk about ourselves and understand ourselves better, but they also provide you as the brand owner a unique opportunity that few other “opt-in magnets” offer: you can easily create some “next steps” prescriptions or recommendations based on the results people get from your quiz.

One thing I highly recommend, always, is to know where your customer is in their journey of whatever it is you help with. Let’s take a slide from one of my recent presentations to illustrate this point and tie it into the power of quizzes.

Let’s say you’re a personal trainer or a nutritionist (or both) who is specifically helping people with weight loss. Your clients may be at many points on the “Interest to Action Spectrum” . . . and keep in mind, there may be even more points/stops than the illustration below, this is something each brand owner must logically imagine, experience, and build for themselves.

Can you imagine how the free content, and perhaps even the paid product or service, you’d want to serve to a person in Position A (truly making up their mind to lose weight) should be different than the content and product you present to someone in Position C (already committed, already on some sort of program)?

To A, you might want to create a series that helps them envision the benefits of weight loss then talks about the healthiest ways to go about it. You might pitch a low-cost eBook or consultation session. To C, you might want to create a series that helps your audience see the benefits of the methods you teach and builds on their spirit of commitment that is already present. You might pitch a free coaching call or 3-month online program to this person who has already shown the ability and desire to act.

See what I mean?

And guess what?

With a quiz, you can use your magical genius mind and ask questions that help you see which place on the “Interest to Action Spectrum” your new audience member is, and you can create multiple different follow-up sequences (via email, for example) and content pieces to meet them where they are and move them towards where you are.

Awesome, right? I like to use Typeform for quizzes, but you might also try Interact. And psst—if you are a part of PublishYourThing.com, one of the first lessons inside Audience Magnet Arsenal contains two tutorial videos that show you exactly how I designed my popular quiz with 16 different results paths.

4. Create some standard reply emails that you can quickly personalize whenever a potential client emails you.

I use the Gmail extension/app called “Canned Responses” to have some pre-loaded emails ready to go that I can customize for the person/situation I’m responding to. This saves me (or perhaps even a virtual assistant you hire to help you) a ton of time in my inbox.

Think of creating standard responses for:

someone asking you if you have any openings in your coaching/freelance schedule

someone asking for recommendations for _____ (whatever question you get frequently)

someone who wants more information about your _____ (most popular product or service)

times when you’re not taking on new clients and want to direct people to other options or to your waitlist

emails in which someone is thanking you for your work/articles/resources/etc. and you want to respond graciously

emails in which you need to urge your client to get back to you in a more timely manner for a project you’re trying to complete for them—drafting this beforehand will make it not as painful/hard when you have to actually customize and send it

when you are a bit overloaded but want to acknowledge that you got the person’s email

any other situations/needs you run into frequently with your particular brand and audience members

5. Take an online class this weekend to learn a new helpful/creative skill.

Skillshare is highly recommended for online classes. You can also find amazing things on Udemy and through a general YouTube search.

You can even Start Your Book This Weekend with moi, or go for something not directly related to what you do that will help spark some new creativity. Think about:

hand-lettering courses

graphic design courses

speed reading courses

meditation courses

dating or self-love courses

etc.

6. Volunteer some pro bono work to a charity, business, or other organization.

Now only will it be good for the world and good for your portfolio, but a little free work for an organization can:

offer you further experience in something you want to do more of

get you some referral clients from the client you do pro bono for

allow you to possibly offer the free work as a giveaway that people can nominate their organization or that of a friend for

etc.

In these ways above ^^, you can use pro bono work to grow your business, even if it just expands your portfolio or the roster of client logos and testimonials of entities you’ve done work for.

7. Create an engaging challenge for your audience.

A while back, when I was studying for one of my fitness certifications, we spent a good portion of time on the science of motivating people to do things that are good for them . . . even when they might not feel like it or might not know exactly what to do.

This certainly fits for working out for many people, but it can also fit for other things . . . like getting clearer skin, or becoming profitable with your craft business, or learning how to do your own home repairs, or mastering a new language . . . we want the end result, but sometimes the frustrating or repetitive training/actions to get there are not desirable.

But, even if you teach people something they absolutely love every single step of the way, motivating people in smart ways can definitely be worth your time.

Challenges are so powerful because they organically help motivate people by providing small wins, which helps people increase their self-efficacy.

Self-efficacy is basically your confidence in your ability to achieve a specific goal or complete a task. Think about something that is either a bit daunting or that seems wholly insurmountable to you at times. For some people it might be achieving fluency in a new language, for others it might be switching to eating a vegan/plant-based diet.

Now, think of someone extremely approachable and friendly coming along . . . someone who used to be equally overwhelmed by the same task but has now mastered it. Pretend they take you step-by-step through it. Maybe they start by explaining everything vegans can eat and they make you a delicious dish that’s better than anything you’ve eaten in months.

Maybe you think, “Okay, well, I can do it for a day.”

Then, maybe they come over and show you how to prepare an amazing vegan breakfast and lunch. All you know are those two meals, but you get good at them.

Maybe you think to yourself, “Okay, well, actually, I can do this for a few days.”

And so on. When the person showed you how to make two meals that you were able to make well, your self-efficacy increased. You believed in your ability to make an enjoyable vegan meal. And this probably also led you to logically believe that there are other vegan meals you can prepare well.

Even though it may just be a week’s time, how much would your outlook on trying to switch to a plant-based diet change after those successful experiences?

You can design your challenge to create small wins for your audience that majorly affect their beliefs about their capabilities. This can have a lifelong affect on someone and increase their overall confidence so much.

That is powerful . . . and should not (in my opinion) be taken lightly.

The first challenge I crafted for my audience was what I like to call a “happy accident.” You know those times when you mess up something in Photoshop and end up loving it? Or those times when you plan a 30-day challenge that you think only a handful of people will care about and it turns out to be one of the things that grows your brand the most in a certain year?

Yeah. Creating my 30-Day Creative Business Cleanse was my happy accident of 2014, and I want you to have one too, except on purpose.

Planning what you want your audience to accomplish, what you want them to feel, how involved you will be during the challenge, and the format and delivery of the challenge content will help. Head to the next page for info on the types of challenges you can create.

Types of Engaging Challenges You Can Try With Your Audience

1. Habit-Forming Challenges 
(typically spread over a specific timeline) 
 Ex: 14 Days to Yoga (for newbies who’ve never done yoga)

2. Habit-Changing Challenges 
(usually done over a specific number of days/weeks) 
Ex: The 6-Week Sugar Elimination Challenge

3. Cleanses or Detoxes 
(which can really fit in as one of the above challenges) 
Ex: 30-Day Creative Business Cleanse

4. Goal-Based challenges 
(with the ideal final result of goal completion) 
 Ex: Sew Your Own Dress Challenge

5. Activity-Based Challenges 
Ex: February Photo-a-Day

6. Knowledge-Gaining Challenges 
Ex: Learn Spanish for Tourists in 3 Weeks

7. People-Based Challenges 
 Ex: The 4-week Date Your Spouse Challenge 
Ex: 30-Day Business Cleanse for Freelancers

8. Fun Challenges 
 Ex: The 30-Day Guide to Getting Flirty in Your Thirties

9. Awareness Challenges 
 Ex: Live Trash Free for a Week

8. Spend some time learning (really, really learning) a social media platform you think might be valuable to your business.

For example: Play around in Pinterest for a few days. Note the pins that draw your attention, read descriptions and see which ones are most effective, find some top pinners in your industry and see what they’re doing right.

Learn the slang, etiquette, and way of life on the social media channel of your choice. Read a book on it, find some good blog posts on it, and then dive into creating content for your business social media profile/page.

9. Get some new photos of you, your products, your office, or your customers enjoying your products. Doing this in a large weekend batch will give you content for weeks/months to come.

Whether you get some professional photos taken (which is a great idea to lend credibility to you) or you learn a few photography tricks with your iPhone or Android device, new pictures always entice readers, regular visitors, new visitors, social media followers, etc.

Plus, have you ever noticed that you’re more excited about promoting something when you have an awesome image of it? Even if you offer a digital service (such as online coaching or a freelance service), you can get images of you at work or images that represent the kind of work you do. If you’re a digital business owner, you have the opportunity to get creative with how you present your work visually.

10. Create an arsenal of visual templates that complement each other.

For some examples, check out the list of “5 Graphic Templates to Make and Use for Your Brand” below.

1. Article, podcast episode, or blog post templates
 Shoot for a well-designed graphic that is perhaps Pinterest-friendly (so maybe 800×1200 pixels) that you can use for posts, articles, or other resources you will create more than once. When you make templates (like Jorden of WritingRevolt.com does), you will save yourself tons of time and create brand consistency.

2. “Click to share” graphics As an attractive way to encourage more people to share your blog posts, emails, and other resources, consider making “click to Tweet” or “tweet this” graphics. You can even consider making share graphics for Facebook or other platforms—just make sure you link the image to Facebook/Twitter/etc. with a ready-to-go post to be shared. You can use the site clicktotweet.com to help.

3. Infographics When you want to display information graphically (which of course explains the term: info-graphic), there are a few tools (my favorites are Piktochart and Canva) to help you. They make creating attractive infographics fun and fast.

You can use infographics inside emails and blog posts, on your funnel signup page or sales page, and so much more.

4. Facebook ads Whether you create an image like the one below to promote your free meditation series or you dip your toes into video ads, budgeting a little each month to boost your Facebook Page posts or to create custom ads can be a very solid idea when you’re trying to grow your audience and sell your products. Having some pre-designed templates can drastically cut down the time and hassle to get a successful ad up and running.

5. Email headers Though you don’t have to use images in your emails, if you choose to do so, creating a header (like the example above to the right) for your content can help remind your audience member what they’re receiving, re-engage them in your content, and get them excited to scroll down and read.

To discover 5 more types of graphic templates I recommend making during your weekend of creating your Visual Arsenal, don’t forget to sign up for the 52 Things You Can Do for Your Business This Weekend to Scale It eBook.

11. Create a physical product that you don’t have to carry inventory for or fulfill orders on.

Not only can you create services, digital tools, and scalable “passive income” information products for your audience, but you can also consider:

Physical tools or products that help your clients

Physical products that have branded themes or fun messaging

Printed books, workbooks, etc. that customers can use

And the awesome thing is there are ways for you to get other companies/providers to process your client orders, create the products, and ship them to customers for you. This is called 3rd-party fulfillment. What kinds of things can you get created for you?

Here are some ideas of products you can create (and get fulfilled for you):

Tote bags

iPhone + iPad skins

Art prints

Wall art

Mugs

Posters

Canvases

T-shirts

Throw pillows

Hats

Fabric

Leggings

Board games

Laptop sleeves

Wallpaper

Calendars

Planners

Aprons

Bibs

Sunglasses

And so, so, so much more

To create products like the ones listed above, check out companies such as:

Printful (pictured above)

Print Aura

Society6

Red Bubble

Spoonflower

PrintNinja

And if you’re creating books or workbooks, don’t forget companies such as:

CreateSpace

PrintNinja

Blurb

Lulu

IngramSpark

12. Spend the weekend “Buffering” all your current posts/videos/audio/resources to your social media accounts. Use unique phrases and schedule enough content for 1 – 3 months.

There are many scheduling tools you can use for this, but my favorite is Buffer.

13. Create a funnel to educate and entertain your audience as well as to sell to them.

A funnel is simply one or more of your ideal audience members being drawn in by an amazing resource or gift you offer, then being taken through a series of content pieces you’ve created, in which each piece is meant to: (1) educate and motivate your audience to act on something helpful to them, and (2) accomplish a specific brand goal for you.

My belief is that even though your funnel may have one general goal, the most feel-good, customer-centric, and sensitive funnels are ones that are highly valuable even if someone doesn’t purchase anything and/or ones that have a few stop-off points for people just in case your end goal is not what they need.

To illustrate what a funnel is, let’s take the example of my totally real friend (I didn’t make him up or anything) named Theo to illustrate extremely helpful funnels. In this content series, Theo is not only selling his $35 guide to being a digital nomad in Playa del Carmen, but he is also dishing out essential, valuable information for people who might only need a few additional details or for people who can’t yet afford his book.

That funnel looks super sexy and helpful, right?

But you may have noticed a very key thing is missing. “Traffic” as the marketers say. Humans as I like to call them. How are human-actual-people going to become aware of Theo’s amazing free video on “A day in the life of a digital nomad in Playa del Carmen” to begin with? Head to this post on funnels for more details/ideas on this.

14. Develop your first teaching + sales webinar (combo).

There are two main ways to arrive at a really great topic for your sales webinar—obviously assuming you know exactly what you’re selling. Okay, so you have a product or service that (in theory) you can:

outline the steps or sections of; or

come up with a clear end result or goal for (ex: you’ll know how to sew your own dress after you take this course, your website will be built when I’m done building it for you, you’ll have a healthier mindset on what to eat now that you’ve gone gluten-free after we’re done with my coaching service)

. . . then you have everything you need to come up with your webinar topic. Simply outline your product or service (by breaking it down into steps or topics), whether it’s something you do for a client or something you teach your client to do for themselves, then do two things:

Think about what it would be like to deliver/teach the first 10 – 30% of your product (give or take—you can of course go outside of these numbers) as a webinar.

Think about what it would look like to teach/present 10% or more of each section or step of your product or service as a webinar.

One method takes people on a deep dive of the first parts of your product and the other method gives people an overview and actionable information on your whole process. Either way, your audience will have enough information/ideas to get excited and know what they need, so your “job” with the webinar is to present your product or service as the logical way for your audience to get the rest of what they need.

15. Create a smart content plan, with your business goals and business model in mind.

You can watch the secret, unlisted video training below to find out the five questions you’ll want to answer to create a content plan that won’t waste/suck your time and that will be on target with your business model.

16. Create an epic email course that you can use as an audience magnet or even a funnel, of sorts.

You can download the planning sheets below by just clicking here or clicking the image, then you can head to this article on creating an email course.

Don’t forget that you can get 52 Things You Can Do For Your Business This Weekend to Scale It for free, below. I’ll send it to you as soon as the book is ready.

Which weekend activity will you try for your business? Please let me know in the comments below. Oh, and, quick favor: Please share this post with other business owners or freelancers you know, so that they can add some fun to their weekend or be inspired during lulls in business. Thank you!

The post 16 Things You Can Do This Weekend to Streamline and Scale Your Business appeared first on by Regina [for infopreneurs + independents].

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