#so unless I want to be charged with murdering this piece of shit father | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weeb-writor · 3 years

Text

Meeting Shouta’s parents on Christmas

Hello all you beautiful people! So here is the last part in the Aizawa mini series. I fell in love with all these Characters and this head cannon so I will probably revisit them! As usually the reader is neutral in every since of the word! I hope you guys enjoyed this series.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aizawa Shouta x Reader

After a month of preparation you meet Aizawa’s Parent over the course of a week

Words: 3,098

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ooh my goodness what are we gonna do!?” You said pacing around your living room. Shouta looked at you and chuckled at your frazzled state.

“We get in my car and drive to my family house as planned, pretend to enjoy ourselves so we can come home and cuddle with my fat cats.” He said, pulling you into a hug.

“You want me to show up to meet your parents without the gift I ordered for you dad? Shouta are you outta your mind.” You said to him with a pout.

“Well that's debatable but I do know my parents and they aren't even expecting anything so it's fine. You can just tell them we’ll get it to him when we get it. Now let's go!” He said trying to drag you to the car.

“Aizawa Shouta! I am not going anywhere unless it's to a store to buy your Dad a gift.” You said giving him a glare. He stared back as if to question if you were being serious. You cocked an eyebrow at him, challenging him to disagree.

“Were gonna be late to get there, do you want that?”

“Better to be late than to show empty handed especially when everyone else has gifts.” You said with a shrug. Aizawa laughed but nodded as you both went to the store. You wandered around the place for an hour before you found something you actually liked. Now you were in the car messily wrapping in as you pulled into the driveway of your destination.

“Okay goodness gracious we barely made it but we're here and I have gifts for all your siblings and their lovers and their kids! Didn't think I would pull it off but here we are in one piece.” You said mostly to yourself.

“Kitty Cat you start talking to yourself and I might leave you to enter the den of wolves by yourself.” Aizawa said as you both got out of the car. You let him take in your overnight bags and get help for the millions of presents somehow packed into your small car you didn't wait long as you felt as presence behind you.

“Hello you, perfect example of a gorgeous human being!” The voice said from behind you.

“Shinji, how nice to see you.” You said with a sigh.

“You know if you’re tired of sighing that way… I have a better way to make you sigh.” He said winking at you. You had to push back all the thoughts of murdering him and just smiled but before you could say anything another voice interjected.

“See I told you we had to come out here! Shinji stop hitting on y/n their dating our little brother you snake.” Saika said, hitting him over the head.

“Can't help it, sis!” He said with a laugh.

“Well for this week you absolutely will have better control overself or so help me God Shinji! Anyway y/n you’ve got me, Shinji and sora at your beck and call, what do you need help with?” Saika said with her graceful smile.

“Oh just this.” You said pointing to the car packed with presents. Sora seemed to choke on air at the amount of gifts.

“God, didn't Shouta tell you didn't have to buy everyone a gift, you poor thing!” Saika said hugging you.

“Well he did but I just really like you guys and loved getting to know you this past month so I wanted to.” You said waving her off.

“More like you wanted to impress our parents, huh cutie?” Shinji said teasing you before he started to grab presents as to avoid his sister wacks.

“Ignore him! My mom is dying to meet you, Shouta’s never brought anyone home.” She said as her and Sora grabbed some more presents. As they went in you pulled out the last two rounds of presents and waited for Aizawa who wasn't far behind.

“Hey love are you ready?” Aizawa said, picking up the presents you set out.

“I am totally not!! I barely remember everyone's name! We should just slip away right now!” You said beginning to pace some more.

“Babe i'm gonna go inside and wait on you, come in whenever you want but remember we are late.” He said with a light chuckle.

“Sho!! don't you go into your house without me!” You said picking up the gifts and following him like a lost puppy. That was that and soon you were inside the house with a lot of eyes on you. You followed aizawa while bowing and placed the toys underneath the huge tree.

“Alright now that that’s done let me meet the one whose stolen my baby’s heart so effortlessly!” A woman said coming over to you. You bowed deeply to her and she let out a melodious laugh.

“How cute, no need to bow so deep! I should be bowing to you, you who is able to make my stoic Shouta blush, giggle and pout!” She says grabbing your face and pulling it around as if to inspect it.

“Oh Honey, you stop it! They are just being polite, you know like Japanese culture requires them to be.” A tall man said coming over to you.

“I'm just saying! Anyway you can call me Mina and this is my parasite of 41 years Hirohito! Nice to meet you!” She said hugging you, you were a bit surprised by how informal and kind they were.

“Excuse my parents, they were born and raised in America! No less Japanese but they are a bit more informal and that does shock a lot of people.” Shojiro said scratching his neck.

“Oh hush boy! Don’t put a warning label on me and your mom as if we are damaged goods.” Hirohito said, knocking him over the head.

“Now it’s getting later we should all wash up and get ready to eat! I made something special for you all. And Sho I put a king size bed in your room since you’ve finally brought someone home. If you want to take advantage of that and make me some grandchildren then don’t worry we will hold up dinner for you!” His mom said kissing his cheek. He groaned and grabbed your hand and pulled you away and soon you were in his room.

“See, was that so hard?” Aizawa said with a flushed face.

“Ehh you look like it was, tomato paste! But I think it went okay! I can do this!!” You said hyping yourself up.

“Yes you can, kitty cat. After dinner only 6 more days to go.”

“WHY do you guys do Christmas gatherings for a week!” You whisper yelled at him.

“Because we have a doting mother who wants to smother us every chance she gets and a father who would do anything for her.” He said serious, you laughed and got ready for dinner. When you and Aizawa made it to the dining room, you were met with three huge dining tables. Almost every seat filled.

“Sweetheart, you and y/n come sit right here! I’ve got so many things to ask you!” His mom said waving you over.

“Thank you… Mina. Your way to kind!” You said with another bow. Dinner was pretty quiet at first but how quiet can you be with like 30 people in one room.

“Saika, dear, you were in charge of the schedule this year can you read it off for everyone.” Mina said.

“Of course! So on the 20th aka tomorrow it’s all about decorations and the tree! 21st is all about taking the kids to see Santa! 22nd is Family photo day! 23 is the gingerbread houses contest and reindeer games! 24th is sugar cookie making and movies! 25th is a grand breakfast and present opening! Bring forth the cup of straws!” Saika said giggling. Sora rolled his eyes but got the cup and passed it around, everyone taking a straw.

“Okay now blow into if red dust comes out you’re in charge of taking the kids to see Santa!” She announced and everyone did. Of fucking course red dust billowed from you straw. You looked at Shouta and he shook his head at you and your heart dropped.

“So then it’s me and you, how fortunate!” Shinji said waving at you. You couldn’t control yourself and your head dropped onto the table dramatically.

“Haha, Shinji y/n already knows what a pain in the ass you are! you must be losing your style dear! Not to worry y/n, Shinji will be on his best behavior won’t you?” Mina said as an ominous silence fell over the room. Shinji didn’t hesitate to nod.

“Okay then! Y/n, welcome to the Aizawa family. I hope you enjoy your first Christmas with us! With that let us begin the 6 days of chaos!” Mina said laughing lifting her glass, everyone joined laughing. Okay maybe this won’t be so bad you thought for a brief second.

20th - 5 Days till Christmas

“Dad I understand you like to hang lights up dangerously but do you have to drag y/n into it.” Aizawa said as he watched you nervously. You were on the roof helping his dad put up a few decorations and lights.

“Of course I did, if they’re gonna be an Aizawa one day they gotta learn all our trade secrets.” He retorted as if it was common knowledge.

“I’ve never seen my little Sho so worried. I can’t figure out if it’s because your kind and you love him so much or if you’ve got him by the balls or maybe even both.” Mina said with a slight chuckle. This made you warm in embarrassment and you lost your footing and began to fall, of course taking the old man with you.

“Shit!” Aizawa said as he quickly used his capture weapon to grab both you and stop your impact from being damaging.

“Yeah alright, me and y/n are opting out of decorations this year.” He said dragging you who was still in his captured weapon toward the door.

“Oh honey calm down it would have just been a small bump and maybe a sprain. Would you at least help Shinji and Sora with the kids, decorating the tree?” She said with a kind yet manipulative smile. Before either of you could respond yelling was heard from inside

“Damn it, Yukio stop breaking the glass ornaments and Maki stop recording and help me!” Shinji yelled.

21st- 4 Days till Christmas

“Shinji what the hell do we do!” You said pacing.

“Hold on stop talking I’m thinking.”

“Like hell I’m trusting your brain! We just have to ask them to let us take pictures anyway.” You said with determination. You see everything was going well until and elf said something to Haru that Jun took as bullying. A fire light in that boy like you had never seen he was on top of the elf giving him the business in seconds. After he just mumbled things like ‘Bakugou said you can’t let people bully you.’ And ‘gotta put bullies in their place.’. Then when you tried to get him to apologize he glared and said ‘no, I can’t let that bully win’ and just like that y’all were kicked out.

“No look let’s just disguise them! Tetsuya and Haru stitch clothing and Haru and Umi switch! Then Maki will take them and her pictures with them.

“What about Maki though they saw her!” You said not believing you were actually going along with his crazy plan.

“Oh I have a change of clothes, gotta be prepared when you’re going out with uncle Shinji!” She said cheerfully.

“That’s my girl! Now go do this thing!” He said giving her and high five. Someone how Shinji’s ridiculous plan worked and the parents didn’t even notice, they were all too drunk or tired.

22nd - 3 Days until Christmas

“There is no way I'm taking pictures wearing this.” Sora said as he pulled the clothes from the box.

“Yeah mom, why did you make Sho pick clothes this year you know he cant even dress himself! It’s because you babied him so much, you know.” Shojiro said, looking as equally as disgusted at the clothing.

“Hey now! I put my baby in charge of the clothing and you all are gonna wear it, end of discussion. Also if anyone babied him it was all of you so blame yourself.” Mina said, ending the discussion as Shouta wore a crazed grin.

“I like the clothes Uncle sho’ta.” Nozomi said rocking on her heels.

“They are pretty cute huh?” He said ruffing her hair.

“Ah ah ah! Don't you go infecting my kids with your bad fashion sense!.” Saika said, covering Nozomi's ears. At this you all broke out into laughs before heading to put on the outfits and prepare for maybe the most embarrassing photos known to man.

23rd - 2 days till Christmas

You were not an artist by any means but when you heard the winner got the honor of passing out presents you were purposely trying to lose. You knew them apart mostly but if they were all wearing the same pajamas with their hair tied back it was going to be a stuttering mess. However your plan of making a 3 out of 10 gingerbread house was foiled quickly. Aizawa wasn't really a competitive man or so you thought but when you to were paired against Shinji and Shojiro he went berserk! You looked at the gingerbread MANSION with a sigh.

“Shouta i’ve never seen you so invested! It's amazing.” Said Shizumi the resident artist in the house.

“Yeah uncle Shouta and L/N! You definitely got my vote!” Daisuke said smiling at you, you smiled back at him warily. The family all wrote down the people of their choosing and put it into the Santa hat. Now as names were being drawn you were biting your nails.

“Shouta and Y/n will be our Clauses this year.” Hirohito said with a small smile.

“Yay y/n wins.” Haru and Jun danced around you. You giggled before glaring at Aizawa in a way that said when we get home your sleeping on the couch, he just kissed you sweetly.

24th - 1 Day till Christmas

“Uncle Shouta stopped making so many cat cookies! Santa wants other shapes too!” Tetsuya said, hitting Shouta repeatedly on his legs. You laughed evilly as you formed another cat cookie and wrote Shouta’s name on the corner.

“I like your cat cookies.” Nozomi said, playing with her hair. Aizawa picked her up and spun her around.

“Okay, yep that's weird Baby brother! Why is Nozomi clinging to you? What did you do?” Shiori said looking back and forth from you and Shouta.

“Nothing.” Shouta said with a smirk. The family then looked at you hopeful.

“Well would you look at that! It's about time to watch the Grinch isn't it, Rei?” You asked the young boy. He eagerly nodded wanting to escape the situation.

“You got Rei too? What is happening!” Saika said as she grabbed Rei bringing him to her chest.

“Huh where is your DVD player? I got to put the disk in.” You said completely ignoring her.

25th - Christmas Day

The gift giving had been going pretty successfully. You only Stuttered a few times but you hadn't given anyone the wrong present and let Shouta take the ones with Nicknames you didn't know. But this right here was the moment of truth, the moment you had been preparing for. In your right hand you had a gift for Shizumi and in your left one for Saika. You looked at the two twin like sisters and handed the gifts to each respectful sister hoping you were right. They opened the gifts and smiled so you guessed you were correct had everyone's eyes not been on you, you would have done a happy dance.

“Alright last gift before Mom and Dads are for Miss Nozomi!” Shouta said signaling you to get the present you and him picked out for the young girl.

“Alright this is from me and Uncle Shouta!” You said to the girl handing her the blue box. She said a quiet thank you before tearing into the box. Inside the box was a note which she took out.

“Look at your favorite uncle.” She said before looking straight at Shouta making all the other brothers gasp. In Shouta’s arm was a cute 3 legged kitten which had the girl darting toward him but slowed when she got to him so as not to scare the cat.

“Thank you!” The girl said, rubbing at her teary eyes. You and Aizawa had been teaching her how to care for cats knowing she wanted one. In all honesty she knew she was getting a cat she just didn't know when. You had asked her parents as well but didn't tell then when either so as to have a bigger reaction from the family.

“No need to thank me! Just promise me to take care of him real well.” Aizawa thumbed away the last of her tears. She nodded rapidly before snuggling the kitten who seemed to enjoy the attention. The last arc of gift giving went well as did the extravagant breakfast you had all prepared together. Now you were all saying goodbye.

“Y/n dear I do have one last parting gift for you.” Mina said as you rounded the corner with your bags. You placed down your bags and went to her side.

“I know you and Shouta haven't been together too long but I want to thank you. He acts tougher than he is. He would rather bear all the responsibility and pain and suffer alone. Not to mention the way he puts himself in danger rather than ask for help. With you he seems different, and you put him in his place. You’ve made me feel at ease for the first time since he entered UA as a student. So welcome to the family, we're so glad to have you.” She said putting something into your hands. You bowed at her and opened your palm to see a key to this house and a few pictures taken over the course of the week. You waved goodbye to them all and got your bags and made the short trip to your car where Shouta was waiting.

“Why do you look like you're going to cry.” He said worried.

“Because there are 365 days till next Christmas.” You said to him smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~

MHA Masterlist

#bnha shouta aizawa #aizawa imagine #Aizawa #aizawa x y/n #aizawa shouta x reader #mha x reader #bnha aizawa #shouta aizawa #domestic fluff #aizawa x reader

125 notes · View notes

alecmagnuslwb · 4 years

Text

Rent a Holidate

Read on AO3

Magnus is barely paying attention as his father blathers on about his annual Thanksgiving party. It’s the same as every year, food made by an overpaid chef, schmoosing clients and Magnus being expected to attend and behave.

They don’t even really celebrate Thanksgiving and it’s definitely not about family coming together to be thankful for the things they have and the love they share, it’s a way for his father to impress his clients with the size of his house and the happy little family picture that he, whoever his latest wife is and Magnus make. It’s a fake night, filled with fake rich people that Magnus loathes more and more every single year.

There’s a pause on his fathers end of the line and Magnus scrambles assuming he was asked some sort of question.

“Yes, of course,” he says hoping that’s the right answer. Evidently it’s neutral considering his father’s monotonous response.

“Fine then, I hope that he or she will be an acceptable date for the evening,” his father says. Oh shit, he thinks, did I just agree to bring a date to this thing?

For a moment he considers backtracking saying he won’t be bringing anyone, it’s not like he’s been on so much as a half decent date in over a year, but he knows his father, once you’ve said something you act on it, no turning back. So instead he grits his teeth and accepts he’ll be bullshitting his way through an emergency excuse to why his fake partner couldn’t attend the night of.

“He is very acceptable,” Magnus says faux cheery conjuring up a fake boyfriend in his head. Not that any partner of his could be deemed acceptable by his father, his father even finds his own career path teaching English at NYU to be an underperformance.

“It’s not Columbia,” he always says whenever Magnus talks about his work.

“Well, then I look forward to meeting him,” his father says not at all sounding like he’s looking forward to it. Which is good considering Magnus’ supposed boyfriend is a complete fabrication. “I’ll see you in a week.”

And just like that he hangs up, no goodbye, nothing.

Magnus sighs tossing his phone into the graded paper box on his desk and begins crafting a personality and profession for his fake boyfriend just in case he needs a more solid alibi.

***

Magnus laments his woes to Dot and Catarina later that night, it’s Thursday which means mimosas and movies.

“Part of me just wants to make up an excuse and be done with it, it’s not like he’ll even remember in a week’s time after the fact that I ever even had a supposed boyfriend,” Magnus says pausing to take a sip of his mimosa. “The other part of me just wants to bring the world’s worst date and embarrass him to no end.”

“You mean Camille wasn’t the world’s worst date?” Dot says curling up in the chair beside Cat with her own mimosa in hand.

“Camille was the world’s worst date, but she never was one to make a scene, she was quietly and privately terrible,” Magnus says moving quickly past the topic of his wicked ex. “I mean someone who’s not a bad person, just kind of a mess.”

“Why don’t you hire the guy Dot hired last year for her family reunion?” Cat says not even bothering to look up from her phone as she scrolls reading reviews for the movie they’re about to watch.

“Yeah he was great,” Dot says agreeing with Cat’s suggestion. “His names Alec. He can’t play straight to save his life which made it even better because my whole family was convinced I was not only dating a worthless degenerate, but a worthless degenerate gay man. Hilarious, honestly.”

She pulls up something on her phone and hands it to Magnus. It’s a Craigslist ad titled, Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad? Tired of your family’s absurd expectations?

He takes the phone reading the post entirely.

My name is Alec Lightwood, I’m a 28 year old almost felon who went to college for three weeks before dropping out. I have a Thunderbird that’s only a year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen’s red guitar. It’s hideous and embarrassing and I love it. I can play anywhere between the ages of 23 to 32 depending on if I shave. I’m a bartender and occasional bouncer when the need requires, I haven’t been seen not in a leather jacket with a tear in the back since high school, I’m gay and very bad at hiding it and I’ve even got an eyebrow scar that’s sure to raise a few eyebrows (get it, raise a few eyebrows).

If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for a gathering of some sort, but have me pretend to be in a very serious relationship with you to torment your family, I’m game.

I can do these things at your request:

- Openly hit on other guests while you act like you don’t notice (of any gender, I may be gay but I can embarrassingly hit on anyone even if it’s not convincing).

- Start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion (sports are off the table however unless your family are big into the Rangers or Islanders, then I can talk shit for days.)

- Propose to you in front of everyone and you tearily accept or you turn me down and I proceed to have a breakdown, but we resolve to work on our relationship much to your family’s chagrin.

- Pretend to be increasingly drunk as the evening goes on (sorry, I don’t actually drink anymore, but I used to. A lot. Too much in fact. I know the drill.)

- Start a screaming match with a family member, that could come to blows (but no one will be physically harmed, I promise) either inside or on the front lawn (if there is one) for all the neighbors to see.

I require no pay but the free food I will receive as a guest at any event!

We can meet prior to the event somewhere public and you can ask me any questions. And I mean any questions so that you feel safe.

- Do NOT contact with unsolicited services or offers. Email me at: [email protected]

“Um, he’s a felon?” Magnus says looking up from the phone when he’s done.

“Hey, don’t judge, you’re not exactly rap sheet free,” Dot says scolding him with a smile. Which okay, he does have a few arrests on his record, petty little things and pick-ups at a protest or two, but felonies are a bit above that. He says that aloud. “Also, as it says he’s technically an almost felon.”

“He’s not a murderer or anything, I had Raphael check out his history before I requested his services,” Dot continues on to explain, referring to their friend who’s a prosecutor. “He got picked up for aggravated assault after he caught the guy who got his sister hooked on drugs in her bed shooting her up, it was a bullshit charge from a snake of a man who deserved every hit he got. The charges were ultimately dropped and settled when the piece of shit he beat up got hit with about ten felonies himself. He’s a good guy, like a really good guy I promise.”

“Didn’t Raphael even stress that he never would have convicted Alec in a million years on the charges?” Cat says getting up from her seat and heading to the kitchen to refill her mimosa glass.

Dot nods taking a sip of her drink. “He did, he said any jury would have sided with him over the 30 year old drug pusher preying on an 18 year old girl. And even though we can’t tell him, because we don’t want him to smirk about it all the time and get a big head, we both know Raphael is the best judge of character and lawyer in America.”

It’s true, Raphael always knows what he’s talking about.

“Plus,” Dot continues on. “Alec’s very upfront about it, I didn’t even need to do the background check he told me exactly what went down when we met for coffee before the event, even brought his sister along to corroborate and make me feel comfortable.”

“Wow,” Magnus says genuinely surprised by the decency of a man on the internet.

“Also, he’s very cute,” Dot smirks over the rim of her glass waggling her eyebrows in Magnus’ direction.

Magnus rolls his eyes. “I don’t think it matters if my fake date is cute.”

“So you’re gonna do it?” Catarina says coming back in the room, a pitcher filled to the brim with mimosa mix in her hand.

Magnus bites his lip in thought as he looks down at the phone in his hand again. He does want to cause a ruckus, he’s tired of being the perfect little son when his father needs him to be. And Alec Lightwood might just be able to provide the exact ruckus he’s looking for.

“What the hell,” he mutters before tossing Dot’s phone to her. “Do I need to email him, or do you still have his number?”

Dot smiles in delight as she taps on her phone his own phone buzzing in his pocket a second later with Alec’s number.

***

Alec keeps his text exchanges simple, offering to meet Magnus the following afternoon after Magnus’ noon class for coffee. Alec lets Magnus choose everything, clearly dedicated to making the person contacting him as comfortable as possible. Luckily for Magnus Alec’s had no inquiries for this Thanksgiving, except for one that was definitely unsavory and he turned down immediately.

With such short notice Magnus thought for sure this might not work out.

He walks in scanning the shop looking for Alec and comes up empty based on Dot’s description of him. He gets in line and orders a drink finding a table off to the side where it’s not too crowded to sit and wait. He’s barely settled into his seat when the chime above the door rings and in walks a stunner with long legs and dark hair.

The man pauses scanning the room, then his eyes land on Magnus his lips tilt up just a bit and he walks over his way.

“Magnus Bane?” he says in question when he reaches the table. Magnus is speechless for a moment as the sun catches in the man’s hazel eyes and on the tiny silver hoops in his ears. He shakes himself from the trance he’s in, ignoring the way his eyes shine a little greener when he tilts his head and nods his own head in confirmation.

“Alec Lightwood?”

“That’s me,” the man says with a smile that crinkles at the edges just a bit, he reaches out a hand that Magnus takes shaking it instantly enjoying the contrast of Alec’s cold fingers to his warm ones. Magnus squeezes his hand once before letting go. “I’m just gonna go get a drink and then we can talk,” Alec says stepping back with a tentative, but dazzling smile.

Magnus watches him go enjoying the view of his long legs in motion. He spots the tear in the back of his leather jacket, just like mentioned in his ad, and smiles. Alec comes back moments later a mug of black coffee in hang.

“So you need a bad date for Thanksgiving,” he says tearing open an obscene amount of sugar packets and pouring them into his mug. “I’m guessing before we get into that though, you want to know about the almost felony?”

Magnus shakes his head and Alec looks at him quizzically for a moment, before the puzzle pieces in his mind clearly fall into place.

“Dot,” he says in understanding. “She must have told you everything.”

“She did,” Magnus confirms taking a sip of his drink. “And for the record it sounds like you were in the right.”

Alec smiles a small uncertain smile almost like he’s not sure that’s the truth, but takes the words as a compliment anyways.

“It wasn’t my finest moment, I guess I’m just overprotective when it comes to people I love,” he says running his fingers along the rim of his mug.

“Getting a drug predator away from your sister isn’t just being overprotective, it’s doing the right thing,” he says genuine. He remembers when they were in high school and Raphael had his run with a bad crowd, it never came to it, but he would have done the same thing Alec did if the situation had presented itself.

Alec just shrugs looking off to the side. Magnus sees the uncomfortable set in his shoulders and shifts the conversation.

“You come highly recommended, Dot says you put on one hell of a show at her family reunion,” he says with a bright smile.

Alec’s shoulders ease and he turns back to Magnus with a smile.

“Dot barely needed me, she put on a performance just as stunning, I’ve never seen a woman so small body tackle so many people during what’s supposed to be a friendly game of tag,” he says with a chuckle.

Magnus has heard all about Dot’s deadly game and seen the bruises she proudly displayed from her somewhat violent performance first hand.

“Believe me it’s not the first time she’s tackled down a full-grown man,” Magnus says with a laugh fondly remembering a frat party, an unsuspecting frat boy and a fateful game of beer pong from many years ago.

“Somehow that does not surprise me,” Alec says rubbing a hand across his dark beard. The conversation shifts from there, Magnus giving Alec the full rundown about his father, his current stepmother and the all too haughty evening they’ll be subjected to.

Conversation flows easy between them, Alec seeming to understand a lot of Magnus’ struggles with his family life and Magnus finds himself wondering if there’s more to why he does this bit of charity for people in need.

“So, why exactly is it you do this?” Magnus asks, clarifying quickly when Alec raises his eyebrow in question. They’ve covered the felony yes and it’s clear that Alec just simply cares, but that’s not a full reason why. “I mean I believe that you’re just a genuinely good person who wants to help people, but it’s deeper than that isn’t it?”

Alec pauses for a moment rubbing the back of his neck nervously, Magnus is about to tell him he doesn’t have to explain if it’s an uncomfortable topic just as Alec starts to talk.

“I’m gay,” he says and Magnus smirks, the obviously on the tip of his tongue. Alec picks up on it smiling back. “Obviously, but for a long time I couldn’t be, or at least not at home. My parents are kind of rich, they’d do these big to do holiday parties every year for Thanksgiving and Christmas. When my siblings and I were little they were just big boring adult parties that we’d steal food from. Then we all got old enough to date and to have plans for the future.”

Magnus hums in understanding. That’s how his father’s parties had been, one day he was a kid just stealing cookies and hating the droll grown ups and the next he was a man expected to present himself in certain ways, ways that weren’t remotely who he was.

“By the time I was 21 I was still in the closet, and already on their shit list for dropping out of college, and I never dated and my parents were just determined to find me a wife. Every year it was so and so’s daughter is lovely and has such a strong education or so and so’s daughter is coming and I can’t wait for you to meet her,” he says twisting the coffee mug between his hands. “I’m pretty sure those holiday parties are how my drinking got so bad, forced heterosexuality and an open bar do not mix well together.”

He chuckles and Magnus takes that as an invitation to do the same. Again he gets it, he’s taken his fair advantage of the open bar at his father’s parties many times.

“And then one year my dad was going on about some girl who was at Thanksgiving dinner, I don’t even remember her name, but she was standing there and the whole time he’s talking about how she’s so pretty and so ready to start a family and I should make a move before someone else did. And I was losing my mind internally and evidently I’d had just enough to drink that I just screamed at the top of my lungs that I was gay.”

He pauses taking the last sip of his coffee.

“And then I just left after my mom was trying to talk to me about causing a scene. Then Christmas rolls around and to my extreme shock I get the invite. I thought for sure I was in for the lecture I’d been avoiding for a month, but instead they just acted like Thanksgiving hadn’t even happened,” he shakes his head. “They invited some other poor girl to try and marry me off to and just went on like I hadn’t had a big, gay outburst. My outburst was a lot bigger that time, after that I didn’t get any more party invites, they just cut me out entirely.”

Magnus reaches out resting his hand on Alec’s that’s drumming on the table. “I’m so sorry, Alexander,” he says trying out the full name for the first time guessing that’s what Alec is short for. He likes the way it rolls off his tongue and judging from the way Alec doesn’t correct him he ventures he got it right.

Alec just shrugs with a sad little smile on his lips. “It’s okay,” he says. “I mean it wasn’t back then, but I’m okay now. I don’t need my parents or their money, my siblings are still in my life and I’ve got a whole life outside of that. I can have my gay outbursts in peace now.”

Magnus laughs squeezing his hand once before pulling back, he’s been resting it there much too long now.

They talk logistics after that, establishing a plan for the holiday dinner. Alec immediately offers to bring his Thunderbird to drive to Magnus’ father’s place upstate.

“I don’t have the car not to be embarrassing about it,” he says and Magnus smiles insisting he pays for the gas then.

He spends almost three hours and four coffees with Alec and eventually finds they’re not even talking about the dinner in question, but they’re just talking instead.

It’s an unexpected development.

***

Coffee with Alec goes all too well and by the end of it they have a carefully cultivated story about how they met and how long they’ve supposedly been together all set in stone. Alec ensures him he’ll be the ultimate, best bad boyfriend for the night, and frankly Magnus is having a hard time believing it.

Alec is sweet, kind without even realizing it and looks like the living embodiment of tall, dark and handsome. If Magnus is being honest he’d love to take him out sometime as a real date more than a bad boyfriend for the night.

He calls Dot after they’ve said their goodbyes, walking to his apartment not far from the coffee shop.

“So how’d it go?” Dot asks immediately upon answering the phone.

“He’s incredibly charming without trying to be and cute is a fucking understatement, Dorothea,” he says looking both ways before crossing to the other side of the street.

Dot chuckles wildly on the other side.

“I’m serious, if I was given the opportunity to craft a man based on looks alone I’m pretty sure he’d be what I’d create, he’s gorgeous,” Magnus says as he reaches his building going inside and heading for the elevator.

“I may have undersold him slightly,” Dot says sounding all too innocent.

“And was there a reason for that, my dear?” he says. He’s starting to feel like he’s being set up.

“Perhaps,” she says and he can hear the gleeful smile in her voice. “You can thank me later, for now just enjoy your bad boyfriend.”

***

Five days later on the last Thursday of the month, Magnus waits outside of his apartment for Alec and at three o’clock on the dot Alec’s truly ridiculous car pulls up. It’s even better in person than he described.

The black, red and white lines are exactly like Eddie Van Halen’s infamous guitar and the ’93 Thunderbird is just on the right side of beat up. The left taillight is busted, covered in see through tape and there’s a sizeable dent in the passenger side door.

Alec steps out of the car, a vision in his signature leather jacket, black jeans with far too many tears and dark eyeliner around his eyes. It’s not neat like Magnus’ though, it’s messy. His whole look from his disheveled, but neat hair, to his trimmed beard to his scuffed boots is just on the right side of acceptable, but screams of a wild side as well.

Magnus isn’t as black tie as he knows his father would like him to be, wearing a deep red shirt and tight pants with a line down the side, his perfectly styled hair, curly and soft with matching red streaks running through it. They make a pretty attractive pair if Magnus does say so himself.

Magnus can’t wait to see how the evening plays out.

Alec smiles at him coming over to open the passenger side door, it takes a couple tugs to get it open.

“It’s a little finicky,” he says playfully bowing and gesturing for Magnus to get inside. “Your chariot awaits.”

Magnus smiles stepping into the car. Alec shuts the door tight rounding the car and falling into his seat.

“Ready to cause a scene?” Alec says with a devilish smile that Magnus finds hard to resist.

“Absolutely,” he says with his own answering smile as Alec turns the key and peels out onto the road.

***

The ride up takes about two hours all told with holiday traffic and every minute of it is delightful. Alec tells him more about himself, outside of the surface stuff they’d covered to make sure Magnus was comfortable with this whole night.

He learns Alec loves archery, has an affinity for trash shows like the Bachelor and has a vicious little cat he adores named Church. Magnus gives his own tidbits in return about his work at the university and his love of bad horror movies, laughing when Alec suggests their fiendish cats might just get along.

Magnus laughs just as they pull up outside of his father’s home, “Chairman doesn’t exactly play well with others.”

Alec shrugs. “Neither does Church, that’s why it’d be fun,” he says with a smile pulling his eyes away from Magnus looking up at the sprawling house before them. He slows the car to a stop pulling into a spot that makes the car perfectly visible from the wall of windows that line the living room where all the guests won’t be able to miss it.

“Damn,” Alec says as he steps out of the car, Magnus joins him where he’s leaning back against the front of his Thunderbird. His car looks amazingly out of place and perfectly hilarious parked between a silver Porsche and a sleek black Lamborghini. “Your father’s in real estate you said?”

“Amongst other things,” Magnus grumbles looking at the house that was always too big, that always felt hollow and empty to Magnus when they moved here after his mother skipped town.

“It’s way too big,” Alec says with a grimace looking it over one last time before offering his arm to Magnus. Magnus takes it guiding him to the front door. “And there’s way too many fucking windows.”

Magnus chuckles as they reach the door opening it automatically and walking in. The space is gaudier than the last time he was there, the walls where once his father and stepmother number four’s portraits used to hang now feature the latest wife and sadly the one of him that his father had commissioned years ago. It’s the last time he’d agreed to sit for one of his gaudy paintings, he’s young, barely 20 wearing a stiff suit and barely any makeup, he doesn’t look like him at all.

“Well that’s a painting,” Alec says looking at it. “I like this you better,” he says eyeing Magnus up and down. Whether he meant to or not there’s a lingering in the look, Magnus likes it. “That looks like somebody trying to be something they’re not.”

And just like that with one look at a painting, Alec nails him right on the head. Like he can read Magnus easily, a thing that just about no one can do.

“Come on,” Magnus says pulling Alec along down the garish hallway that leads to the large expanse of the living room. There’s a new chandelier hanging in the hall, riddled in way too many gems. He bets it’s a feature added by the new wife.

“Maggie!” a woman’s voice yells, speak of the devil, he rolls his eyes at the nickname no matter how many times he’s told her to drop it she just won’t. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

His stepmother comes bouncing over their way, her ridiculously high heels clacking against the hardwood floor. He can hear his father sigh from the other side of the room, more concerned with his precious oak floors than anything else in the world.

Magnus braces himself as she barrels into him hugging him tight, she releases him with a smile before turning to Alec and doing the same.

Alec’s eyes go wide in surprise, no matter how much Magnus described her to him there’s no preparing for hurricane Marissa. She pulls back adjusting her very not appropriate for the setting tight pink and black strapless dress with a smile, her fake tan looks a little lighter than usual and he’s weirdly proud of her for that.

“And who is this?” she asks reaching out to adjust Magnus’ shirt collar that she crumpled when hugging him.

“This is my boyfriend, Alec,” he says gesturing his way. “Alec this is my father’s wife, Marissa.”

Marissa playfully pats Magnus’ cheek, “Stepmother.” She says it pointedly holding out a hand to quickly shake Alec’s. He will never refer to her as his stepmother out loud, much like the past four wives Magnus bets Marissa will be gone in five years’ time tops, his own mother hadn’t even stuck around that long. Also, she’s 25, five years younger than him, and there’s no way he’s referring to her as anything remotely close to a mother.

“It’s lovely to have you in our home,” Marissa says to Alec gesturing to the room at large. Magnus looks around at the room full of people, most of whom he doesn’t remotely recognize. A few seem somewhat familiar in the most unmemorable sense. He’s sure they’re constant clients and rich cohorts of his father’s that have attended before.

“That it is,” his father’s voice says coming up behind his wife. He rests one hand on her shoulder and holds out another Alec’s way. “Asmodeus Bane.”

“Alec Lightwood,” he says a perfect gentleman returning his father’s handshake. They’d agreed to keep it civil for at the least the first introduction and then let the evening escalate from there. Magnus can tell just from looking at it his father’s grip is tight, commanding and borderline threatening, but Alec doesn’t even flinch.

“Lightwood, hm?” his father says eyeing Alec up and down frowning and Magnus can tell he already disapproves of what he sees. “Any relation to the Lightwood Consulting company?”

“Yes,” Alec says and Magnus smiles when he sees his father’s lips uptick in an impressed smile that immediately falls at Alec’s next words. “But they cut me out and off years ago, I’m the black sheep of the family if you will.”

Asmodeus just hums disappointed. “Well, that’s a shame,” he says. “So, how did you meet my son?” he asks not bothering with anymore small talk now that he’s already decided Alec’s no good, just jumping right in to the things he can criticize.

“Prison,” Alec jokes and Marissa titters delightfully. She quickly stops when Asmodeus looks at her disappointedly. “Just kidding,” he says. “I did my time there years ago, no we met at a bar.”

Asmodeus bristles at the prison mention, which is technically a lie, Alec only spent a few hours in a cell back when he was arrested, but his father clearly buys it as more. Magnus can tell he’s tuning out the rest of their crafted meet cute story, all about how three months ago Alec had a few too many drinks and almost got into a fight and Magnus had been his stalwart knight in shining armor.

“Love at first sight,” Marissa sighs clearly enjoying their made up tale. “Isn’t it sweet, Asmody?” she coos tugging on his father’s arm.

“Yes, quite sweet,” Asmodeus grimaces gripping his wife’s arm and pulling her away. “We’ll talk later.” He says looking directly at Magnus, essentially and completely dismissing Alec’s presence all together before stepping away. Marissa grins wide waving at them as she goes her long pink acrylic nails clicking together as she does so. Marissa may not be the brightest or subtlest bulb, but at least unlike many of Asmodeus’ past wives she’s nice enough.

“Well damn, do I even need to do anything else? He seems disappointed enough already,” Alec says shaking his head in disbelief.

“Now, where would the fun in that be,” Magnus says with a smirk, shrugging off his jacket. Alec follows suit and Magnus admires the view of his arms in a short sleeved well-fitting white button up shirt. His love of archery has made for some nicely toned muscle.

***

They mingle for a bit after Magnus deposits their coats in one of the coat closets, Magnus putting on his best son of the year smile while Alec downs glasses of water that everyone thinks is vodka at a fairly speedy rate.

It’d been his first task when they’d rejoined the party walking over to the bar with a smile.

“I need you to fill a bottle or two of vodka with water and keep serving me all night,” he said to the bored and disgruntled looking woman behind the counter. The rest of the hired help for the night must have been sequestered away in the kitchen until dinner judging by her being the first one that Magnus had spotted.

“You planning something weird tonight?” she questioned sliding Magnus a glass of red wine.

“Not weird, just disruptive,” Alec said so kind and so believable that the girl perked up.

“Well I love to see rich people who call me barkeep unironically disrupted, so you got it,” she said with a smile discreetly pouring out a bottle and refilling it with water before handing a glass to Alec as he dumped a sizeable wad of cash into her completely empty tip jar. God, rich people were cheap.

She’s been steadily serving him since.

Now they find themselves with a man who has to be bordering on 200 years old and it seems Alec decides it’s time to truly get to work.

“All that glitters,” the old man says talking about something that they’ve clearly both been tuning out.

“Glitters?” Alec says a little too loud, just enough so that everyone in their vicinity can hear. “You mean the place on 5th? My ex used to dance there, maybe you saw him, man knew how to work a pole if you know what I mean?” he winks at the old man and Magnus just barely stifles his laughter as the old man steps back in shock. He mumbles something unintelligible looking suddenly ill and paler than he had before and slips away.

Alec tosses back his drink and hands it to a passing woman in a truly hideous pantsuit that is definitely not a server, dragging Magnus along to the table of appetizers. He tosses shrimp into his mouth not bothering with a napkin, rubbing his hands on his ripped-up jeans making direct eye contact with a young woman, no doubt another trophy wife, as he does so. She scrunches up her nose and steps away.

Evidently despite his fairly small work so far he’s made just enough of a scene to garner Asmodeus’ attention once again.

“So, Alec, I assume that colorful vehicle outside is yours?” he says walking up beside the two of them. Their bartender and conspirator comes up just then handing Alec a fresh glass.

Alec smiles at her, before turning to Asmodeus. He’s not acting drunk yet, but he’s bordering on behaving tipsy.

He slings an arm over Magnus’ shoulder and brings him in close. Magnus settles a hand at Alec’s waste enjoying the proximity.

“Yes, that is my sweet Cherry,” he says naming the car on the spot. “Won her in a poker game when I was 18, crashed her three days later and have been patching her back together ever since.”

“A poker game?” Asmodeus questions, clearly becoming more disappointed by the minute.

“Yup,” he says cheerfully popping the p in the word. “Well, I wouldn’t say won directly, more cheated a guy and then fought him for it,” he pauses gesturing to the little sliced scar that runs through his left eyebrow. “That’s how I got this.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many tire irons a high school principal is carrying around,” Alec continues with a snort tossing back half of his drink.

Magnus just nods along in agreement to Alec’s concocted tale. He actually bought the car from his sister’s ex-boyfriend when he was nineteen for 200 bucks, but this story shocks far more.

“You mean to say you fought your principal for your car?” Asmodeus says judgement so very clear in his voice.

“High school, am I right?” Alec shrugs with a chuckle smiling down into his drink. Asmodeus looks appalled.

“Oh, come on don’t look like that father,” Magnus says placing his free hand on Alec’s chest and patting there lightly. Magnus can’t help but notice how solid the chest under his hand is. “I got up to some trouble in high school myself, surely you remember.”

Asmodeus just hums, clearly finding Magnus’ occasional wild parties without permission a dull comparison to the tale Alec just told.

“Never forget the time I streaked and jumped from the guest house roof to the trampoline and right into the pool, nearly broke my arm in the process,” Magnus says with a smile. Alec leans over burying his face in Magnus’ hair, careful not to mess it up, whether it’s to play up the PDA or stifle a laugh Magnus isn’t sure.

They’d had a whole conversation about PDA, Alec promising to respect his boundaries, no kissing and never a hand wandering beneath his waist.

“How could I forget,” Asmodeus says sharply embarrassed by his son’s antics. He turns towards the large windows and looks out to where the porch patio lights illuminate Alec’s car.

“It is so sexy that you did that,” Alec says ignoring Asmodeus and turning towards Magnus. He downs the rest of his drink and meet’s Magnus’ eyes, a question and idea brewing clear in them. Magnus smirks tugging at Alec’s shirt.

“You think so?” he says teasingly.

“Mm hmm,” Alec says biting his lip and Magnus knows this is all a part of the show, but god are those lips tempting.

Magnus catches Asmodeus turning his attention back to them looking outright furious. Magnus pulls away from Alec’s eyes and smiles a bright smile like they’re doing absolutely nothing wrong.

“I’m gonna give Alec the tour,” he says leadingly pulling Alec along by both hands and rushing away from the living room and down the hall before Asmodeus can say a word. He can see Alec’s smirk as he notices the stares of the other guests in the room.

Magnus doesn’t even pay attention to where they’re going as he pulls them into a room just off the right side of the hall.

“How’d you actually get that scar?” Magnus asks once they’re inside shutting the door behind him, no doubt convincing everyone they’re about to get down and dirty.

“Took a hockey stick to the face when I was 17,” he says pulling himself to sit up on a desk. A desk that Magnus now recognizes as his fathers. They’ve pulled themselves into his father’s office and if they get caught in here he’ll never hear the end of it, he loves it.

“You played hockey?” Magnus asks lifting himself up to sit beside Alec on the desk ignoring the papers he accidentally topples to the ground.

Alec nods in the affirmative. “I did, that’s why it’s the only sport I can start heckling fights about, everything else is boring.”

Magnus snorts at that, he’s never been partial to any sport himself.

“Did you really do what you said out there?” Alec asks picking up a notepad and flipping through it mindlessly.

“I did,” Magnus smiles and Alec’s eyebrows both go up. “Don’t look so surprised, you’re not the only one capable of mischief.”

“Oh, I see that,” he says with a smile tossing the notepad back to where he found it. “That is kinda sexy you achieved a jump like that and didn’t get hurt.” He says it with his voice low and all sorts of New York around the edges. He freezes his hand stopping over the spot where he’d been about to pick up the ugly green and bronze sphere shaped paper weight beside him.

Magnus freezes too, Alec saying something like that while they’re alone makes it real, not like the fake flirty way he’d said it out in the living room.

“Sorry, that’s not, I’m sorry, I never cross that line when I do these things, we’re alone and,” Alec runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Magnus shakes his head reaching out and tentatively laying his hand atop Alec’s where it rests on the desk between them.

“It’s okay,” he says and Alec looks at him ready to argue the point. Magnus jumps in stopping him before he can say a word and taking his own leap into making this far more real than fake. “Really, it’s okay. You, uh, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Alec huffs a laugh opening and closing his mouth a few times like he’s looking for the right words to say. The space between them feels a little charged now that they’ve floated out the simple fact there’s a real attraction here. Alec closes his mouth and bites his lip looking determined like he knows what to say finally when the door busts open.

“Oh, my apologies boys,” Marissa says standing in the doorway her hands on her hips and a pleased little smile on her lips. “But dinner is served.”

Magnus and Alec pull away from one another quickly hopping off the desk and stepping towards the door.

“You two are just too cute,” Marissa says when they reach her. She loops each of her arms through one of theirs and tugs them down the hall happily. “Don’t listen to a word your father says.”

Magnus meets Alec’s eyes over her head only to find Alec already looking at him, a soft smile on his lips.

***

Magnus takes his proverbial spot on his father’s right at the head of the table, Marissa doing the same on his left. Despite Asmodeus’ clear attempt to keep Alec as far away from him and Magnus as possible by seating him at the far end of the long table he fails. Luckily one of Marissa’s friends, just as airy and tight dressed as her is seated next to Magnus and happily swaps spots with Alec.

Alec lifts his drink to Asmodeus in a faux toast that Asmodeus doesn’t even feign interest in as he takes his seat.

Dinner is served and it’s to be expected. The sweet potatoes are divine none of that weird marshmallow bullshit in them, the mac and cheese is literally to die for and the homemade bread hits in just the right way. The turkey is terrible, but that’s not at the fault of the overpriced chef that’s just simply because it’s an indisputable fact that turkey tastes like napkins.

Alec eats so much Magnus is concerned, he can tell from the tight fit of his shirt that Alec is in impeccable shape so he doesn’t really know where he puts it all as he goes for his fourth serving of mac and cheese.

But long before his fourth serving of cheesy goodness Alec starts up at least three debates that would be deemed far too impolite for their supposed polite company. Each fresh serving he corners someone new into a debate; first it’s an old lady in a pantsuit pulled into a debate about the existence of god, then a forty something who looks like he’s never seen a rainbow without feeling threatened into a talk on the merits of teaching queer history to children and finally a woman who can’t be much older than them who looks like her name is Tinsley or Ainsleigh or something equally as nauseating into a tense bordering on yelling match about the importance of safe abortion access.

He sounds a little more drunk with every conversation and he’s damn good at faking it. He sounds just the right amount of inebriated not slurring his words too much or fumbling around with his silverware, it’s practiced, a master class in being drunk without being drunk. Most people overplay it acting far more outlandish than a drunk person sitting at a table would, but Alec has it down pact.

Magnus watches him not a care in the world, acting like he doesn’t even notice the disruption Alec is causing. The only person aside from Magnus that doesn’t look increasingly more uncomfortable by the minute is Marissa who looks like she’s having the time of her life watching these stuffy rich people squirm.

Asmodeus of course does not look delighted, he barely eats, just scowls over the rim of his wine glass and attempts to deflect any conversation Alec purposely instigates another way unsuccessfully.

The only time he seems to look like he’s not about to have a coronary is when everyone’s plates are finally collected, Alec still shoveling the last bit of mashed potatoes on his plate into his mouth as one of the waiters lifts the plate away from him, and it’s announced that dinner and coffee will be served in the living room.

Alec stands stretching his arms up over his head and Magnus admires the ripple of his muscles as he does so before standing beside him. Alec reaches over the table picking up yet another glass of water and tossing it back with a loud unnecessary thirst quenched sound before holding out his hand to Magnus. Magnus takes it instantly with a smile following along as they head for the living room once again.

***

A waiter takes their dessert requests, a choice of six different types of pie as they file out of the large dining room.

Magnus selects the pumpkin pie, while Alec chooses the chocolate pecan.

“Pecan, gross,” Magnus says as they work their way over to one side of the room a little bit away from everyone else to have just a moment of reprieve.

“How dare you, pecan pie is delicious,” Alec says sounding outright offended.

Magnus rolls his eyes and crosses his arms making a face that screams Alec is insane to have that opinion.

“It’s all sugar, no substance,” Magnus says. He really shouldn’t be surprised Alec’s favorite pie is one as ridiculously sugar based as pecan considering the amount of sugar he witnessed him dump into his coffee a few days prior. Alec doesn’t even deign him with a response, he just gives him another affronted look like Magnus has insulted his entire being, not a pie.

Moments later a waiter hands them each their requested pies. Alec takes a bite of his pointedly making eye contact with Magnus as he does so and making a pleased obnoxious yum sound. Magnus just rolls his eyes again, amused as he takes a bite of his own pie.

“So, are you enjoying yourself so far this evening?” Magnus asks after a few minutes of companionable silence.

Alec pauses grabbing a coffee from a passing tray and taking a sip, he grimaces a bit at the black coffee before answering Magnus’ question. Out of the corner of his eye Magnus sees his father watching them, almost looking excited to see Alec drinking a coffee, probably hoping it will sober him up.

“Well, your father is kind of terrible, and all these people are exhausting,” he says gesturing with his fork to the room at large after he sits his coffee on the floor next to him. “But despite the fact she may be a little air headed Marissa is lovely and I get a kick out of making rich people as uncomfortable as possible, so it’s been a pretty good night thus far.”

He pauses taking a bite of his pie and looking at Magnus from underneath his thick dark lashes. “Plus, you know, you’re pretty good company as well,” he says tapping his fork to his lips.

Magnus slow blinks at him and smiles.

“You’re pretty good company as well, especially when you’re just being you, like right now, not the overstated bad boy, even if he is a good time,” Magnus says. He reaches out his empty fork and boops Alec on the nose with it, just because. Alec scrunches up his face adorably at the action.

“Well I like you being you too, though it’s kind of fun you’re playing into my whole act, most people just play the none the wiser partner,” Alec says before leaning down and drinking another glug of his coffee. He makes the same cute displeased face again as he swallows.

“Really? No one’s made it seem like you’ve turned them into a crazy bad boy too?” Magnus says surprised. He’s been having a pretty good time being a little more instigative around his father than he usually would be.

Alec shakes his head. “Not really, Dot tackling her family members was a bit of an outlier, and honestly they’re almost never guys.”

“So I’m your first fake boyfriend then, huh?” Magnus says oddly flattered about the possibility.

“Second actually, but still most of the time I get hired by women, there’s a comfort in knowing that your fake date won’t try to make a move,” Alec says taking the last bite of his sickeningly sweet pecan pie.

“I guess I didn’t have a problem with that prospect,” Magnus says smiling around his fork looking right into Alec’s pretty hazel eyes, all dark rimmed and intent on him.

“I guess you didn’t,” he says with a smile putting his empty plate and mug on a passing tray and leaning back comfortably.

Magnus joins him leaning over by one of the sprawling windows casually finishing off his pie looking up to see one of his father’s political friends, a 30 something councilman of some sort, staring at them nearby. Alec, the little devil, winks at him slow and seductive. The councilman bristles and his wife beside him gives Alec an evil stare.

Magnus laughs a little, thinking that’s it for that interaction when suddenly the click of heels approaches them.

“Did you just wink at my husband?” the woman all but screams at Alec causing him to jump up from his slouch against the windows. Her head shakes as she speaks, her clip-on earrings wobbling.

“I,” Alec starts, but she doesn’t let him get in a word before she’s tossing her glass of white wine right at him.

“Oh, shit,” he says surprised and laughing a bit as he scrubs at his face his already messy eyeliner getting even messier in the process.

“Listen, lady I had no intention, your husband was the one staring,” he shouts back sounding a little more drunk than he did at the dinner table, they weren’t planning on Alec picking a fight tonight, but it seems he’s rolling with the one presented to him.

“Why you little, you little-“ she basically shrieks her husband pulling at her arm trying to stop her from taking this any further. Magnus steps in in front of Alec, a stern look of shutting shit down that he learned from his father on his face.

“You will want to watch your next words very carefully, wouldn’t want your husband’s constituents hearing any bigoted language coming from his already,” Magnus pauses surveying her bejeweled dress that looks like she’s going to a bad 80’s themed prom. “Tacky wife.”

She looks angrier at that, but Magnus’ stern look seems to usher her away, allowing her husband to pull her from the room.

The room is dead silent all eyes on them.

“Alright,” Asmodeus’ voice booms, everyone turning his way. “Show’s over, nightcaps will be served by the barkeep in the library shortly why don’t you all head in there,” he says gesturing to the way of the library. He steps over to Magnus and Alec as does Marissa who instantly hands Alec a towel.

“She’s always been a stick in the mud with bad taste,” Marissa says showing her own dislike for the councilman’s wife. “You didn’t do a thing wrong.” She smiles at them both apologetically before linking her arm in Alec’s and pulling him the way of everyone else. Magnus moves to follow, but is stopped by a hand on his chest from Asmodeus.

“We need to talk,” he says leaving no room for argument. Alec looks back at him from where Marissa is still chattering happily to him, a clear question of if he needs to cause a scene to stay with Magnus in his eyes. Magnus waves him on, watching as they go.

He barely waits until Alec and Marissa are out of ear shot to start in on Magnus.

“I know he’s faking it,” Asmodeus says and that is not what Magnus was expecting. He plays dumb though raising his eyebrows in question.

“Don’t act like you don’t what I’m talking about, I’d venture to say from the looks you two share you know all about it as well. You just brought him here and put on this whole show to embarrass me,” Asmodeus continues with a disappointed sigh. “That man hasn’t had a drop of liquor tonight, every action he’s taken hasn’t been some alcohol fueled mistake it’s been purposeful. He’s probably the most sober person here tonight. As far as I’d guess aside from truly being the black sheep of his family name and that truly atrocious car nothing that’s happened here tonight has been real.”

And alright, yeah Magnus definitely wasn’t expecting this. He expected his father to rail on his choice of partner, to knock Alec’s character and behavior and maybe Magnus’ to boot as well. He didn’t expect him to know exactly what’s been going on all night.

“And before you ask how I figured it out, you really should have made sure your date kept better track of his finished glasses, after dinner he left one behind and it didn’t smell of the vodka we’ve all been convinced he’s been downing all night,” Asmodeus explains. “From there a quick search told me the name was at least true. His family really did cut him out judging from his complete disappearance from all events, not that I can blame them, anyone who behaves this atrociously without influence of alcohol just to play a game probably deserves to be cut off.”

Magnus huffs out an unamused laugh at the underlying implications of his statement.

“Is that a threat?” Magnus says steely eyed.

“It could be, if you don’t get him out of here right this instant and promise to never try anything even close to similar to this charade again,” Asmodeus says just as steely eyed and Magnus hates that he learned the look from him.

For a moment he considers just leaving, hightailing it out of there with Alec and not saying a single other word to his father, but he’s tired. He’s 30 and he’s been putting up with his father’s vague threats if he doesn’t play the good little son role since before he could talk practically and he’s just done.

“No, we won’t be leaving,” Magnus says holding his ground. “And as for this charade well I guess I can promise you nothing like this will ever happen again, because I’m done. I’m done playing some perfectly crafted son that I’m not, I’m done acting like we’re a happy little family, like you won’t get bored of poor, sweet Marissa in no time and there’ll be a new wife on your arm who you’ll pay just as little attention to.”

“You’re right, I did do this to embarrass you, to show those fucking fakes in there that you are the fakest amongst them, even more so than all of them combined. Alec may have been playing a role tonight, but he’s ten times more real than you could ever dream to be. Don’t worry about having to cut me off and making a whole big show of it, I haven’t needed you or your money in years,” Magnus says. He straightens out his shirt and stands with his head held high turning on his heel to join Alec in the library.

***

Magnus is frankly riding high on truly stepping up to his father for the first and likely last time in his life when he saunters into the library scanning around to find Alec. He spots him in the corner chatting with Marissa.

“There you are,” Alec says sounding genuinely concerned. Magnus just smiles at him hoping it looks more assuring than it feels.

Marissa reaches out patting him on the cheek lightly. “Don’t listen to whatever he said, he’s just jealous he’s not as outstanding as you,” she says with a smile.

Magnus is struck in that moment with how much his father doesn’t deserve her, she might be a lot to take sometimes, but she is a genuinely kind woman.

“Nor as outstanding as you,” Magnus says with a smile and she blushes at the compliment. He’s ready to follow that up by telling her that she should leave his father’s ass immediately before he gets the chance to toss her to the side, but someone calls out her name and she’s pulled away smiling at them as she goes.

“Ready for the grand finale?” Alec says as soon as Marissa steps away. The grand finale, right, Magnus and Alec had discussed giving one last show before they left for the night if they managed to make it all the way through dessert. And they have, everyone’s nursing nightcaps ready to exit for the evening, but clearly all lingering around to see if Alec does anything else embarrassing or outlandish before they go.

Mere moments ago Magnus was ready to just storm out of here with Alec at his side and maybe ask Alec if he fancied going on a real date for a late-night drink somewhere.

But now with his father storming into the room after him, glaring and judging, looking quite possibly the most upset he’s ever been with Magnus he can’t seem to find a reason to go just yet.

“Let’s do it,” he says and Alec smiles tossing back his water and acting as if there’s a nice vodka burn to it. He grabs a discarded fork from a table nearby and taps it on his now empty glass so hard that it chips just a bit earning everyone’s attention.

“Could I have everyone’s attention please,” he says sounding a little bit like he’s sobered up after the near fight with the councilman’s wife. Most of the room looks their way eagerly like they can’t wait to see what happens next, while a few others apprehensively turn their attention.

“I met this stunning man not all that long ago,” he says laying his hands lightly on Magnus’ shoulders. “But in that short time, I have realized that undisputedly there will never be another for me. From the moment we hooked up in the back of Cherry the night we met,” he says not elaborating at all on that sentence, earning the shocked gasps and confused looks of many. Marissa giggles, Asmodeus seethes not loving this new addition to their fake meet cute story even if he knows it’s all a ruse now. “I knew you were the one, so, Magnus Bane,” he continues on getting down on one knee he pulls the plain silver ring he’s been wearing all night on his middle finger off and presents it to Magnus. “Will you marry me?”

Magnus pretends to be shocked covering his mouth with a gasp. His eyes flit up to where his father stands, looking like he’s about to make some move to physically stop Magnus from answering Alec’s question, like he won’t survive the embarrassment of this room full of people knowing his sons engaged to a degenerate in messed up jeans even if he knows it’s not real. Magnus doesn’t give him the chance immediately looking down at Alec with glassy eyes.

“Yes, Alexander, yes,” he says no longer hiding his amused grin as Alec slips the ring on his finger and lifts up from the ground pulling Magnus into a crushing hug. The room claps tentatively, enthusiastically in Marissa’s case who it seems does not care how insane something is she just loves love. How she ever ended up married to his father, who only truly loves himself, his hardwood floors and his hair is a continual mystery.

“Wanna get the fuck out of here?” Magnus mumbles into Alec’s ear. Alec pulls back from their hug and nods enthusiastically.

“Do I have your permission to bridal carry you out of here?” Alec says lowly ensuring no one can hear him.

“Oh, hell yes,” Magnus says delightedly as Alec lifts him up and makes for the door.

“We’re gonna go celebrate in the back of Cherry again,” Alec announces proudly to the room as he goes. Magnus pats him on the shoulder guiding him to the coat closet where he quickly grabs their jackets, Alec never losing his grip on him.

Asmodeus shouts after them as they head out the door, Alec pausing at his car and planting Magnus down on the ground gently. He tugs at the door three times before it opens gesturing for Magnus to get in as he ignores his father’s bellowing shouts. Alec playfully salutes Asmodeus and slides over the hood of his car bumping into the Porsche beside him setting off it’s car alarm as he lands and slips into the driver’s seat quickly.

He starts the engine peeling out of the space just as Asmodeus reaches the front of the car. Magnus just blatantly ignores him only catching sight of Marissa standing in the door waving their way as they drive off.

***

The ride back is quiet for the first twenty minutes or so, music playing softly as Alec drives drumming his fingers along the steering wheel to the beat.

“My dad figured out you were faking it,” Magnus says with no preamble looking out the window as they go. The roads are mostly empty now people celebrating the holiday into the late hours with their families before waking up at 5 a.m. to Black Friday shop.

“Shit, there goes my Oscar,” Alec says eyes flashing to Magnus quickly with a laugh before focusing back on the road. Magnus chuckles in response.

“Well, it’s an honor just to be nominated,” Magnus smiles tilting his head towards Alec.

Alec snorts a little laugh then turns his head quickly to Magnus once again.

“Did your dad give you a lot of trouble about it?”

“He did, I don’t think I’ll be getting a Christmas invite after I railed back at him,” Magnus says. “But it’s okay. I think it was just a long time coming, bound to happen. Better to get it over with now before I wasted more years trying to seem like I’m something I’m not just to please him.”

Alec comes to a stop at a red light and turns his attention fully to Magnus.

“Are you okay? I mean shitty or not, having a parent cut ties isn’t easy, trust me I know,” he says. Magnus watches him enjoying the way the red of the stoplight cuts through his dark hair.

Magnus takes a deep breath and gives Alec a small assuring smile.

“I will be,” he says, truly meaning it. The fallout with his father is a lot, but he will be okay. He’s lived without his father being truly present in any form since the day his mother walked out on them, this new world where he’s likely all cut off isn’t anything new really. He’ll manage, hell he might even thrive without the chains of his father’s expectations weighing on him now.

The light turns green and they lapse back into comfortable silence for the rest of the ride, Magnus completely endeared as he listens to Alec mumbling the lyrics to every other song that comes on the radio under his breath.

When they pull up to the curb outside of Magnus’ house Alec steps out first ever the gentleman helping Magnus with the finicky passenger side door.

He holds out a hand helping Magnus out and smiles when he drops it shutting the door tight.

“Well, thank you for the free meal and the fun night of mischief,” Alec says leaning back against his Thunderbird. His eyeliner is a mess and there’s a faint dried spot along his white shirt stained from the wine incident, he looks beautiful under this streetlight and Magnus wants more night like this. Well maybe not exactly like this one, it’s been a bit of rollercoaster for him emotionally, but nights with Alec all the same.

“Go out with me,” he says not even framing it as a question. He knows Alec is interested too has seen it in the moments where he was just being himself and the appreciative glances he’s given Magnus all night that clearly weren’t just a part of the show he was putting on. And that doesn’t even cover their coffee the other day, the easy way they’d talked and just clicked right off the bat.

“For real, not a fake date or a bad boyfriend show, a real date,” Magnus clarifies when he notices Alec’s surprise.

“I’d like that a lot,” Alec says pushing off the car. He steps a little closer to Magnus leaving just a bit of distance for Magnus to clear if he wants. Magnus does want so he steps up not quite touching Alec, but close enough all he’d have to do is raise a hand. It feels almost like when they were in his father’s office tonight, but even better because they’re alone for real now, there’s no show and no chance of interruptions.

“I need the record to show that I literally never do this, not once, I haven’t even been interested, let alone made any sort of action to make something real out of one of these fake dates,” Alec says low and sincere keeping his eyes on Magnus’ the entire time making sure the words are clear. “You are entirely the exception.”

“Entirely exceptional, actually,” he adds on with a smile. Magnus smiles reaching out his hands to rest on Alec’s chest.

“So are you,” he says patting his hands twice where they rest. “And I believe you aren’t just doing this to pick up hot guys, no worries.” He says with a chuckle and Alec rolls his eyes.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” Alec asks.

“Nothing, no classes until next Tuesday and most of my friends are out of town for family dinners and what not. I’m as free as a bird,” he says blinking his eyes just a bit flirtatiously at Alec.

“Good, we should get dinner, no family, no bullshit, just us,” Alec says tentatively resting his hands on Magnus’ waist.

“I like the sound of that,” Magnus says lifting up to kiss Alec on the cheek softly just once before pulling back.

“I’ll text you with a time and place in the morning,” he says slowly stepping backwards holding Alec’s steady gaze as he goes. He turns just for a moment putting his key’s in the door and pushing it open before turning back. “Goodnight, Alexander.” He says and watches as Alec smiles a dazzling smile before rounding the car and opening the driver’s side door.

“Goodnight, Magnus,” he says before slipping into his car. Magnus watches with a smile as he pulls away from the curb, his bright red ridiculous Thunderbird speeding away. The smile doesn’t leave his face as he makes his way all the way up to his apartment, so much so that he’s pretty sure his cat is judging him all the way to bed.

***

One Year Later

Magnus’ phone buzzes insistently his ringtone blaring on the nightstand.

“Stop that,” he says weakly reaching out an arm to silence it, his hand falling to the nightstand and coming up empty once, twice, three times while it continues to ring. It’s far too loud and far too early on a holiday with no responsibilities for this.

A chuckle comes from above him and warmth reaches over brushing his fingers before gripping the phone and pulling back.

“Magnus Bane’s phone,” Alec answers his voice a little lower and rougher than usual from sleep. It’s a very nice sound. Magnus can’t hear who’s on the other end of the line, but when he flips over he sees Alec smile and perk up a bit leaning back against the headboard.

“Yeah it is Alec, it’s good to know you remember me, Marissa,” he says and Magnus raises an eyebrow he’s only heard from his father’s wife once since last Thanksgiving, an apologetic text on his father’s behalf. His father on the other hand hasn’t so much as sent a sternly worded email in that time.

“Yeah, he’s here, hold on sec,” Alec says, he lowers the phone offering it to Magnus who grumbles a bit lifting himself up and leaning against the headboard next to Alec.

“Hi, Marissa,” he says clearing his throat a bit.

“Magnus!” she shouts into his ear and he jumps back a bit, from the both the volume and from shock hearing that she’s finally dropped her terrible nickname for him. “I was glad to hear Alec answer the phone, I knew you two were a good match, even if it was all a show that night.”

“Ah,” Magnus says. “So father told you.”

“He did, but it doesn’t change that you two are the cutest,” she says. “Which speaking of your father,” she starts and Magnus is ready to shoot down any attempt at reuniting she’s trying to pull here. Marissa is a nice woman, but his father’s silence in the past year has spoken volumes, he’s not playing into a reconciliation he can’t even make the call for.

“I left him,” she says finishing her sentence. Magnus huffs out a little surprised laugh that Alec raises an eyebrow at, well good for her. “About a month ago and I know it’s incredibly short notice and you might have other plans, but I’m having a little Thanksgiving dinner of my own with a few friends this year and I’d love to see you. And Alec too, of course!”

Magnus smiles, they’d had a Friendsgiving slash one year anniversary celebration over the weekend with Raphael, Cat, Dot, Ragnor and Alec’s siblings, tonight’s plans were likely going to consist of Chinese takeout on the couch and making out. And while Marissa can be a lot she was always kind, and he can’t help but recall how supportive she’d been that night a year ago. He can’t find it in himself to turn down her offer because of it.

“We’d love to,” he says and Alec looks at him again in question. Magnus just waves a hand signaling he wait a moment for explanation. On the other end of the line Marissa claps excitedly.

“Yay!” she says. “I’ll text you my address, I’m in the city now so Alec might have to leave Cherry at home.”

Magnus laughs. “Oh, he might bring her anyways.”

He chats idly with Marissa for a few more minutes before disconnecting and promising they’ll be on much better behavior this year for dinner.

“Marissa left my father,” Magnus says as soon as he’s hung up and tossed his phone back on the nightstand. Alec smiles looking just as oddly proud for her as Magnus feels. “And we’re having Thanksgiving with her and some friends tonight.”

“Good for her,” he says flipping back the covers and getting out of bed. “Should I get out the eyeliner and torn up jeans for tonight just for old times’ sake, or no?”

He smirks standing gloriously naked in front of the dresser rustling through one of his drawers. His drawers. Magnus isn’t quite used to the lovely novelty of the fact that Alec lives with him now. It’s been about two months since they made it official and just seeing one of Alec’s crappy romance novels on the coffee table or his shitty leather jacket hanging in its permanent space in their closest still makes him feel all sorts of tingly.

Magnus hums in thought rising up from bed and moving to lean against the dresser beside Alec. He’d pay good money to get Alec to wear eyeliner more often frankly.

“I think you should bring both of those things out as often as you’d like,” he says reaching out a hand and cupping Alec’s cheek turning it towards him. The feel of Alec’s soft, shaven skin is something he also isn’t quite used to. For the first time in their year together he’d shaved off his beard entirely, completely out of the blue and for no other reason than he’d had a day off and was bored. He’s as handsome as ever, but Magnus had quite literally had to do a double take when he came home and saw Alec sitting on the couch.

“Do try and leave the illustrious tales of our sexual escapades at home this time though, darling,” he says with a smile. He’s mostly joking, but now that their sexual escapades are real and not fictionalized he’d like to keep them just between them.

“Damn, well there goes all my dinner conversation topics,” Alec says with a wicked little smile.

“Menace,” Magnus says as he slides his hand down from Alec’s face to his chest with a shake of his head.

Magnus runs his fingers lightly through the hair on Alec’s chest stopping to rest on the stark black tattoo on his lower abdomen. And boy hadn’t it been a blissful discovery to see that ink when he finally got Alec’s shirt off for the first time. He trails his fingers over the shape of it lightly, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“If you keep doing that we’ll never leave this room,” Alec says his lips tilting up in a little pleased smirk.

“Doing what?” Magnus says innocently still moving his fingers over the shape of the tattoo lightly.

“And you say I’m the menace,” Alec says leaning in to kiss him on the lips once hard and bruising. “We need to shower.” He says stepping away from Magnus. Magnus’s hand falls and he pouts laying it on a bit thick. Alec pointedly attempts to ignore it.

“Together?” Magnus says with a hopeful smile.

Alec rolls his eyes. “I feel like despite having literal hours to get ready we’ll end up late somehow if we do,” he says eyeing Magnus’ bare form appreciatively. “But there’s no way I can say no to that.”

Magnus smirks pushing himself off the dresser and right up against Alec.

“Damn straight,” he says before leaning in to lay a teasing, promising kiss on his lips.

“There is absolutely nothing straight about this,” Alec says with a toothy smile once he’s pulled back already tugging Magnus into the bathroom for their shower. Magnus laughs loud and bright as he’s dragged along.

***

Impossibly despite literal hours, Alec’s right, showering together does prolong the entire process of getting out of the apartment when showering becomes shower sex, which becomes another round on the bathroom counter which results in needing to shower again, separately this time much to both their dismays.

Eventually though, they’re dressed and ready. Magnus finishes up the last touches on his hair, adjusting the bright almost golden streak at the front of it which compliments the golden chained pattern of his shirt. He picks up the ring Alec fake proposed to him with last year and twists it onto his right-hand ringer finger with a smile. They obviously aren’t actually engaged, but increasingly lately Magnus finds himself thinking about making it real.

He gives himself one last once over in the mirror before stepping out of the bathroom to find Alec sitting cross legged on their bed and Magnus is nearly sent back in time to a year ago.

He’s wearing the jeans and boots just like he had that night, his eyeliner is in place a little less messy but still unpracticed and his hair is its usual tussled self. The shirt is almost the same, this time it’s one Magnus gave him with subtle lines of shiny black at the collar and cuffs, the little black loops in his ears are a gift from Magnus as well.

It’s a perfect combination of that first night when they were a fake couple out to cause mayhem and the couple they are now, a royal we couple that are so deep in love Magnus has to just take a few breaths in sometimes to remember this is all real.

“Ready to go?” Alec asks looking up at Magnus with a smile. Magnus nods as Alec stands throwing on his leather jacket with the hole in it he refuses to fix. Magnus follows suit grabbing his own jacket and following Alec out as he grabs his keys and wallet scratching the heads of both cats curled up on the back of the couch as he goes.

“We could take the subway you know?” Magnus says once they’re in the elevator, Alec twirling the keys to his Thunderbird around his finger.

Alec scrunches up his face adorably. “No way,” he says gesturing for Magnus to step out first when they reach the lobby. “Cherry helping us fight through Thanksgiving traffic is gonna be a lifelong tradition for us.”

Lifelong Magnus likes the sound of that, but he is dubious that Alec’s precious car will last anywhere near that long.

Alec rushes to the car parked proudly and loudly right in front of their building unlocking it and pulling four times on the passenger door before getting it open.

He smiles at Magnus gesturing with an overstated bow for him to get in and Magnus rolls his eyes but can’t seem to hide his smile and Alec knows it. He shuts the door once Magnus is in and in a move reminiscent of their escape from his father’s last year slides over the hood before slipping into his own seat and starting the car driving off to a much better Thanksgiving than the year before.

#my fic #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec fic

106 notes · View notes

imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

I Love You (Part Forty-Two) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of kidnapping. Mentions of death, torture, sexual assault, panic attack, PTSD-- everything Criminal Minds. Talk of sex, BDSM, Dom/sub relationship, etc.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 12469

Timeline: Season 6 Episode 09. A month after part forty-one.

A/N: Hi, my loves. I might be taking a very short break. School is..... it's a lot right now. I think that between school and the way my friends have been getting into my head about Criminal Minsd/Hotch/Thomas, I've just kind of fallen out of love temporarily. I'm finishing up Sense8 rn, and then I'm going to start watching Tales of the City to help revamp my love for Thomas, and in turn Hotch and Criminal Minds. Chapter 43 is going to be a long one, so I just need ya'll to bear with me for a bit as I get to writing it. I love you guys! <3

A week stuck in the house after getting back from Hawai’i was a week too long. All I wanted to do was get back to work and act like nothing happened, because, really, nothing did happen. Yeah, something happened, but it could have been way worse. I handled the situation before it could get bad, and the team found me. As for the only surviving Unsub who took me, Morgan and Emily went to question him after he got out of surgery. They asked him about this website that Foyet had supposedly set up for his fans, but by the time they got the name of it, it was gone, and Garcia couldn’t find anything about it. She searched far and wide, even trying to recover the site itself, but whoever really set it up was good, and they knew how to cover their tracks.

All we knew was how the site operated. According to the Unsub, there were levels of the “membership”. Those who wanted to join Foyet’s little minion club, or whatever the fuck it was, had to start at level one with a misdemeanor. The higher up they wanted to move through the levels, the more intense the crimes got. The third to last level, the one the Unsub and his friends were on, was killing me. Throughout the whole ordeal— from the moment they bid on the task in the level, up until I managed to shoot two of them, they were in contact with the person in charge. He told them where to find me, when to take me, how to do it, where to take me, what to do about the call, but they came to a screeching halt when they were told that they needed to send a piece of me, one at a time, to Hotch and Jack. For a group of criminals who worked through the levels of robbery, rape, child abductions, and animal murder, it was surprising to me that they wouldn’t even try to follow their orders. I mean, they could have at least— Maybe that wasn’t anything to ponder on.

When asked what the last two levels were, however, the Unsub told us that he didn’t know because the bids were hidden from anyone on the lower levels. They had been the first group to make it to the “my” level, no one knew what the last two were. If I had to guess, though, based on what I knew about Foyet and his mission to ruin Hotch’s life, I was going to take a wild guess that the second one was likely hurting Jack— which was already unthinkable— and the first… the first was Hotch.

Foyet liked torturing Hotch. From the stabbings to killing Haley, Foyet enjoyed making Hotch’s life a living hell. Even from the grave, Foyet was doing his best to break down Hotch. He wanted Hotch’s life to fall apart around him, to have him lose everything before he would finally be targeted, too. From what we knew, the only task the Unsubs had with me was sending me off in pieces. That was it. The consideration to do more, the conversations I had overheard, was of their own volition; but it also happened to be their downfall. With Hotch, the task was probably to make it as painful as possible. Honestly, I didn’t want to consider the options after knowing what Foyet had already done.

After the Unsub was out of the hospital, our questioning completed, he was processed, and it was finally out of our hands. When we got home, I practically collapsed in the doorway, catching Jack in my arms as he ran to me for a Superman hug. I had never been more relieved to see him in my life since Foyet took him. I held him in my arms for as long as I could, even when he tried to protest that I was hugging him too tight. I never wanted to let him go. Even when he started asking questions about what happened on our vacation, because something was clearly wrong, I just stayed as still and quiet as possible because I just wanted to hold my son in my arms.

Hotch made me stay home for the week following that while he practically catered to my ever want and need. In a way, I suppose, I was under house arrest. All I was missing was the ankle monitor; and, honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised me if I would have woken up with one on. Hotch was being a little too protective since it happened. While I tried to not blame him because he was obviously still trying to get over the fact that he could have lost me, I just wanted to get back out there and live my life. I wanted to get back into the field; I wanted to see our friends; I wanted to mess around with Morgan and Emily all the time. I didn’t want to feel like a wounded, little lamb.

What happened to me wasn’t even that bad, as I said. All I had were a few cuts and bruises, yet Hotch was acting like my entire body was broken and he needed to do everything for me. He didn’t go to work, he hardly even let me out of my sight. It was like the days following Haley’s death where I watched Hotch and Jack like a hawk because I was afraid that if I let them out of my sight for even a moment, I would never see them again. Hotch probably felt the same way about me this time around… But I really just needed him to take a step back and let me breathe.

When I did get back to work about a month after Hawai’i, it wasn’t an easy transition. All the way to the office, Hotch tried to convince me into reconsidering going back. If it were up to him, I would have been at home for the next nine months or so. But I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be locked up for months on end, sitting around, worrying about Hotch and the rest of the team as they went out to work on hundreds of cases without me. That wasn’t going to happen. I had a life to get back to. I could deal with my trauma outside of work— just like Hotch, who was still going to therapy because of what happened with Foyet while still going to work, too. And if he was just worried about me being pregnant, which I was sure was a factor, then he had to understand that it wasn’t a big deal yet. It was a miracle, of course, but it wasn’t impeding my ability to work just yet.

I just had to keep reminding Hotch that I had been to hell and back a thousand times, and this was just one more thing to add to the shit list. If I could get through all of that, I could get through this. But if Hotch started blowing this all out of proportion and made a big deal out of it, we were going to have problems. I compared it to when he found out the truth about those photos the Fisher King had taken out of my jewelry box, and he promised that he wouldn’t treat me any differently knowing what he knew now. I needed that understanding back. He always told me that he trusted my judgement—if he didn’t, he would have never let me go near that train Elle was being held hostage on in Texas a few years back—so I just needed him to trust me now. I was going to be fine. I was fine.

On Tuesday, after driving into work and getting some reports done, the team gathered in the roundtable room to discuss potential cases. Only, JJ already had a case in mind. Daniel Lanham, a ten year old boy, was reported missing on a camping trip by his father last November… Over a year ago… He was never found. In fact, the case had run so cold, that the police were initially grasping at straws by trying to pin the whole disappearance on the father. However, with no forensic evidence tying him to a crime, they couldn’t arrest him; but now that Daniel’s body had just appeared on the Appalachian Trail, questions were starting to stir and fingers were being pointed again.

I stared at the photo of that boy’s decayed body. He was only ten. How could someone do this to a child—How could someone do this to their own child, if that were really the case. I mean, there were signs of care and remorse with the body that indicated personal attachment that a father could potentially have. Daniel’s body had been wrapped in a plastic bag that was buried underground and covered by elements, all in the name of preserving and protecting the body from weather, animals, natural accelerated decay, etc. But this was an opportunistic crime. Our Unsub, if he was hunting for a victim on the Appalachian Trail, had to sit and wait for the perfect boy to come along. Or if Daniel’s father was responsible, he had to wait until his son was alone with him. Either way, it was an opportunity that arose, not a sophisticated, targeted attack. That was… unless…

“JJ, are there any more missing persons or mysterious deaths on the trail that could be connected to this?” I asked.

“The Rangers contacted me with this case, and they claimed that they’ve never seen anything like it. So, I’m going to assume not. But I’ll check with them when we get on the jet, just in case.”

“It says here that Daniel’s father went back to the trail every month in search for his son?” Hotch questioned, looking through the file. “And then he stopped in March.” He stopped in his tracks as a realization hit him. “Which is about the same time the M.E. estimates Daniel was killed.” He closed his case file. “Y/N, we’ll talk to Mr. Lanham when we arrive at the Park Ranger’s office. JJ, can you have them organize that while we’re on the jet and you’re contacting them about similar cases?”

“Sure,” she answered.

“Prentiss and Morgan, when we get to the trail, you guys should head out to where Daniel Lanham’s body was found in order to get an understanding of this Unsub’s level of mental stability.”

By that, he was alluding to the fact that we weren’t sure if our Unsub was Mr. Lanham or not. If this presented as organized or disorganized, it would help us conclude on way or another, and if there was anything else important out there that they Rangers missed, it might help us build our profile. So, it truly made sense that we would send someone out there. But I wished that it were me. Hotch usually teamed me up with Morgan—or, at times, Morgan and Emily. I wanted to go on the trail with them so bad. But Hotch wanted me to stay back in the Ranger’s office with him in order to question Mr. Lanham, even though that was a small enough task for one of us to do alone.

----

The Park Ranger’s office was more like a large cabin. Actually, that was exactly what it was—and it was similar to Gideon’s cabin, but perhaps twice that size. There was one main office where all of the Rangers had been waiting for our arrival, then there was the lead Ranger’s office to the left, and, lastly, set ahead was a boardroom where we could meet privately if need be. As we walked in, we were immediately told that Mr. Lanham was waiting for us in said boardroom.

While Emily and Morgan turned on their heels to head straight out to the trail as Hotch ordered, Rossi, Reid, and JJ moved to the table in the middle of the room that had a large map taped down to it for us to get our bearings. Reid immediately started building the geographical profile. So, while he was busy with that, and JJ and Rossi were getting caught up with the Ranger’s investigation, Hotch and I headed into the boardroom.

Hotch held the door open for me. I silently thanked him as I headed inside to see Mr. Lanham sitting at a desk, never looking up to acknowledge us. We carefully approached.

“Mr. Lanham, I’m Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Greenaway, and we’re with the Behavior Analysis Unit at the FBI. We’ve been called in to investigate your son’s death.” Hotch pulled a chair out for me. “We need to ask you some questions.” After I sat down, Hotch moved to take a seat in the chair next to me.

Mr. Lanham shrugged, keeping his eyes lowered, his hands in his lap, his leg shaking nervously under the table. All signs that he had issues with authority. Some of them were signs of guilt, but they could also be attributed to his frustration with the FBI questioning him when he thought that everyone had forgotten him as a suspect. I understood why he felt that way. However, it was necessary to ask him these questions in order to confirm or deny if he had any involvement in his son’s death. So far, it was inconclusive.

“You went almost twice a month out to the site where your son disappeared from November to March. And then you stopped going.”

He nodded. “That’s correct.”

“Why? Why stop at the same time he died? Because that looks awfully suspicious to us, Mr. Lanham.”

“I don’t know. Alright? I just—” He let out a heavy sigh as his body slumped in his seat. A sign of defeat rather than guilt. “I had this… feeling that he was gone. And it was taking too much out of me to keep searching. You probably don’t know what that feels like.”

I glanced over at Hotch. When Foyet took Haley and Jack, I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that something terrible was going to happen, and no one was going to be able to stop it. And then Haley died. My suspicions had been confirmed, my heart shattered in my chest, and yet… the anxiety dialed back. I could remember still being hysterical and worried out of my mind because I wasn’t sure if Hotch and Jack were dead; but… Now that we were sitting there and Mr. Lanham had brought up this “feeling” he had, I realized that some part of me that day knew that they were still alive. I still had a sliver of hope that Jack was just hiding, safe and sound in his secret spot, and I had a feeling that Hotch was alright. And I was correct. Hotch was beaten and broken, of course, but he was alive. And my little man was alive. So, I understood that “feeling” Mr. Lanham had referred to.

Hotch moved on. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you used to take Daniel camping every weekend.”

“Yes. His mother had full custody, but she allowed me to see him on the weekends.”

Hotch and I knew that feeling all too well. Haley practically had full custody, but she allowed us to see Jack whenever we were in town; but it was still hard. Co-parenting was hard. I couldn’t imagine how Hotch did it alone all those years.

“So, the night he disappeared, what happened?” I asked. Mr. Lanham didn’t respond because he seemed at a loss for words. Even though he had recited his story a thousand times for local police, state police, Park Rangers, and so on, he couldn’t find the right words anymore. I really couldn’t blame him.

“You set up camp…” Hotch began egging him on once he noticed Mr. Lanham’s hesitancy. “You fell asleep… And then… A man came into your tent?”

“No. No one came into the tent. Daniel got up because he had to use the bathroom. He didn’t wake me up because he was in that phase where he was convinced that he didn’t need his dad protecting him all the time…” He sniffled. “So, I rolled over and I went back to sleep. I should’ve—” His voice cracked behind a sob. “I should’ve gone after him. But I didn’t.”

“Mr—” I began, but he interrupted me.

“I was his hero, and I failed,” Mr. Lanham cried before hiding his face in his hands out of shame.

I recognized the look on his face as he had said it, though. It was the same look Hotch wore for months after Haley died. He was ashamed that he couldn’t have done more to save her, and he failed at being Jack’s superhero when he needed it most.

“I don’t care that you all think I’m guilty. Because I am! I am guilty! I didn’t protect my son when he needed me most.” He looked up at us. “If I could go to prison for that, I would.”

Without a doubt, I knew that there was no way Mr. Lanham hurt his son. That kind of thinking—that sort of regret couldn’t be replicated by any kind of sociopath. No. Only a true grieving father who had been through hell could possibly feel that way. And since I had seen Hotch go through the exact same motions after Haley’s death, I knew that Mr. Lanham was innocent, and that he wasn’t putting any kind of show on for us. He genuinely regretted that night.

But I just couldn’t sit there and keep listening to his distraught cries. The way he was sobbing while blaming himself for something he had no control over only took me back to over a year ago where Hotch practically collapsed in my arms after Haley’s wake, and he pleaded with me about moving houses because he couldn’t stand being in that house anymore. The cries were eerily similar. And the worst part was, that parental regret that Mr. Lanham was starting to rub off on me when it came to Jack, and now the regret was turning into panic with our baby. Fuck.

I stood and saw myself out of the boardroom. Hotch was hot on my heels, likely because he didn’t want to listen to it any longer, either. The superhero thing hit too hard. We were Jack’s superheroes—we always had been—and the day that Foyet killed Haley, we failed him. We couldn’t protect him and his mom practically the one time it mattered most. Before, I used to regret that deeply, of course, but now that there were… other factors involved… I felt all of that ten times harder now, and it made me reflect on what the hell Hotch and I were actually going to do to prevent something like that from happening ever again. I didn’t want it to be Jack or our baby that we would lose next time—No. There would be no next time… This was exactly why I had to get away from Mr. Lanham while he was like that.

Apparently, Emily and Morgan had gotten back from the trail while we were talking to Daniel’s dad. They were standing around the map table in the middle of the office, a marker in Emily’s hand as they told Rossi and Reid everything they found out there. More bodies. And by more, I mean a lot more. Where they went to find Daniel’s burial ground, they ended up finding at least a dozen other bodies that Rangers were working to dig up currently so that they could be identified. So, this just turned serial.

“His name is Tyler Dale. He was the same age as Daniel when he went missing, and he was on a family trip when it happened,” Morgan explained, catching me and Hotch up to date with what everyone else knew.

Reid immediately scurried off with this new information to work on something that was churning in his mind, something that he couldn’t explain to us quite yet or it would ruin his thought process. We all turned to watch him silently work. We knew that whatever it was, it was likely important, and likely to help us. Honestly, if I were to guess, now that I was watching him scan through both Daniel and Tyler’s files a mile a minute, he was probably working on victimology. If he wasn’t, I was going to start. He was the fast reader, but I was the quick spotter. I almost wanted to challenge him one day into seeing who could solve a cold or closed case first—like the Foothpath Killer. Considering I solved that one the fastest, and Gideon was incredibly impressed, I was sure I could win against Spencer Reid.

And then he jumped to his feet with a thought. Okay… So, maybe he would put up a good fight. But I liked a challenge. I kept considering it as Reid set the files out on the map table and started dialing Garcia’s number on the conference phone. I cocked a brow at him. What was it that he found? Or, actually, what was it that he thought he had found?

“Garcia—” Reid began.

“Oh, it’s the boy wonder!” she cheered. “You never call me. It’s so isolating…”

Reid smiled lightly in response. “Sorry. We’ve been a bit busy.”

“I forgive you. I guess.”

Those of us who were standing around chuckled somewhat. Reid immediately turned back to his work when he shook it off, though, so that he could get back to what it was he called her for. “Can you look up the missing persons reports on the trail, specifically young boys between the ages of nine to thirteen.”

“I’m gonna need more than that.”

“The Unsub’s probably in his late thirties to forties, so disregard any cases older than twenty years.”

“What are you doing?” Rossi asked, utterly confused.

Reid hardly acknowledged Rossi when he answered with, “Speeding up the process of identifying those kids.” He grabbed a pen. “Garcia, narrow it down to boys with dark hair only. How many do we have now?”

“Twelve.”

Emily’s eyes widened. “They’ve only found ten bodies so far.”

Reid stood tall. “Yeah, but they’re still looking. It’s entirely possible those other two boys are out there. Garcia, which of those is the oldest case?”

“Um… Victor Dane disappeared when he was ten… and that was…” Garcia paused and gulped. “Oh. Fifteen years ago. They never found out what happened to him, but Rangers at the time suspected that he just happened to get lost.” That was usually their excuse when people went missing out there.

“What time of year was that?”

“October 20th.”

Reid was scribbling notes down on a piece of paper in one of the kids’ files. “What about the other boys? Did they all disappear around that time?”

“Yeah… How did you…”

“Thanks, Garcia.” Reid hung up on her without any consideration, and he stood to face all of us.

As we all huddled around, Reid began explaining how the cogs turning in his head had just come up with a dozen different answers to the problems we were facing. For our profile of the Unsub, we were missing any kind of link between how, when, and why the victims were taken. But Reid figured it out. Now that we had the identity of another kid, he was able to connect some of the dots, but what Garcia told him explained it all clearly to him. Our Unsub was crossing stateliness, which was why no one connected the dots—and he was spending months doing so. To hike the entire trail would take about six months. He was taking his victims in the fall, and we knew from Tyler and Daniel, he was killing the boys in the winter…

He was torturing them for months on end… He got away with it because no one knew that he existed.

I cringed and took a step back and away from the group. I felt Hotch’s eyes following me, so I didn’t let any emotion show that would give away the panic building in my chest. What if Hotch had thought that I just wandered off in Hawai’i? What if he had really been convinced that I left to go back to the Mainland—that I had left him… No one knew that those men who took me existed. No one knew that there were people out there who were so loyal to The Reaper. No one knew that I was a target. I could have died if Hotch didn’t know me so well. I could have died if the team didn’t have enough trust in him and I to know that something was wrong. I could have ended up like those boys that were being dug up in the forest.

I swallowed all of my pain.

----

That night, Hotch forced me to go back to the hotel with him while the team stayed at the Ranger’s office to have a long night of working. I think this move of his had more to do with Hawai’i than anything else. He was worried that I wasn’t better. He thought that I was suppressing any memories or PTSD in order to trick him into thinking that I was alright. And maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t at all okay because every time I closed my eyes, I was terrified that someone else who had seen “Foyet’s website” would come to kill me, Jack, or Hotch. I was dreading a call from home while we were gone on this case that would tell us that someone took our little man from us. Foyet was always cruel. There was no doubt about it. But I never thought that it would get this far after death, after Hotch had bashed his face in to the point he was unrecognizable.

I needed rest desperately. For once, I wasn’t going to argue with Hotch about something related to dictating my life. Because I clearly needed to sleep, but Hotch didn’t, he decided to set up shop at the desk while I rolled into bed, which meant that I could afford to at least close my eyes because someone was keeping watch. Usually, Hotch fell asleep without struggle. If I were wrapped in his arms, it would take only a few minutes before he would completely crash and start snoring in my ear—but I could never fell asleep. If I did, there was a chance someone could take him from me. Something like Hawai’i could happen to him if I weren’t careful. So, I stayed up nearly every night just to ensure no one would come in and take him—or even to make sure that no one was lurking in the house to hurt Jack. But Hotch was staying up now. He was sitting at the desk, looking over the case, facing the door and the window, which was a reassurance to me that meant that no one could sneak up on him now.

So, I relaxed.

After a few minutes, I heard Hotch get up to grab his pajamas and toiletries from his go-bag and head into the bathroom. My eyes followed him until he closed the door.

I curled up on the bed, bringing my knees up ever so slightly towards my chest, and I laid my hands over my stomach. It was so odd… Everything felt normal, but it clearly wasn’t. Between the fact that Hotch was being overprotective and that I was subconsciously protecting my stomach more, it was obvious that I was pregnant; but I wasn’t showing yet, and I technically couldn’t even feel anything yet. It was just knowledge and an unconscious drive to protect something we couldn’t even see or feel. But the strangest part of it all was that I couldn’t wait to have more than that. I couldn’t wait to hold our baby, to see if they got mine or Hotch’s eyes, or what color hair they would end up with. Every second that we wasted just knowing and not seeing was torture. I was just excited to skip the next few months and finally have them in my arms.

Hotch came out of the bathroom, his face washed, teeth brushed, hair combed out of his face, and his suit switched out for his pajamas. When he saw my curled on the bed, he smiled. I smiled back at him. Despite how tense I had been about his protective behavior, I could find myself relaxing and falling in love with him over and over again every time he looked at me like that. It was this sparkle in his eyes that spoke volumes about how much he eternally loved me. And that smile… It was this slight curl at the corner of his lips that ever so slowly turned into a wide, toothy grin the longer he stared at me. It was pure joy. And it was absolutely contagious. I found that every time I spotted that smile growing on his face, I’d start smiling ear to ear, laughing at how cute and silly he was.

Aaron Hotchner… Cute and silly… It was strange to think about that sometimes—how I knew him in that capacity when no one else even got a hint of that side of him. In fact, most people didn’t know that he was capable of smiling. But he was. He was capable of so much, and he was deserving of every happiness in the world. After everything he had been through, I could confidently say he earned eternal bliss.

“You okay?” he asked quietly. He always whispered when he was afraid of disturbing me because he was taken by the way I was just… existing. I wasn’t doing anything special, yet he didn’t want me to move. I could tell that he wanted to remember me like that for a little longer.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?” He moved to sit down at the end of the bed, bringing my feet onto his lap so that he could massage them lightly. I relaxed immediately. When he started rubbing his thumb into the arch of my foot, I rotated somewhat so that I was laying on my back and looking at him.

“What Mr. Lanham said about his son,” I answered. “I’m terrified that something is going to happen to our kid, Aaron. Terrified. We know what’s out there—We know who’s out there. How can we possibly protect them from all the evils out there?”

“We just try our best.”

“Mr. Lanham tried his best. You tried your best. What if I can’t try my best?”

Hotch moved his thumbs to the pads of my feet. “It’s hard, Y/N. I’m not going to lie. All that pain and panic you feel on behalf of Jack is going to be ten times worse now with your own flesh and blood. That doesn’t mean that you love Jack any less—please don’t take it that way. But it is different when they’re your own. So, this anxiety you’re feeling now is entirely valid. Trust me. But it’s a day by day thing. You do your best one day, and then you try even harder the next. That’s all you can do. There’s no point in dwelling on what you could have done better or what horribly thing can potentially happen.”

“And if we fail?”

“We won’t.”

“How do—”

“We won’t,” he said more sternly.

I reached out to squeeze his bicep, since that was all I could reach and reaffirm. Maybe I did understand why he wanted to protect me. Maybe he was just doing his best with me, and he felt that his day to day best wasn’t enough. But it was. Actually, it was more than enough.

“I love you.”

He kissed his way up from my ankle to my hip, slowly moving around until he was hovering over me and I was giggling at the way his kisses tickled to me. I punched at his pecks lightly in a playful attempt to make him stop. But he didn’t. He only smirked and moved to kiss my stomach. I ran my fingers through his hair, encouraging him to stay there because I loved how it felt. I loved thinking to myself that we knew something was there, though we couldn’t see it, yet he had an instinct to still show me every bit of love. Especially there.

“I love you,” he whispered against my stomach.

----

In the morning. Hotch and I woke to a call from the Park Rangers that two kids had just been reported missing on the trail. A boy and a girl. Robert and Ana Copeland. That didn’t match our Unsub’s M.O. at all, but we simply couldn’t take the chance. Knowing that the body count out in the forest was only increasing with every knew hole Rangers were digging out there, it was entirely possible that the Unsub was spiraling. It wasn’t worth ignoring. If it meant potentially saving those kids, we were going to at least look into it. If it turned out that it had nothing to do with our case, it would be passed on to the Rangers and local PD, who could hopefully help the parents seek closure.

Until then, we had to try our best. So, we hurried out of bed and raced to the Ranger’s office. When we got there, JJ was already setting up a search party with the Rangers and local volunteers who found out that the kids went missing and wanted to help. Hotch pulled me to the side before we stepped in.

“You should stay here with Reid, give us some outside geographical help,” he offered.

I cocked a brow at him, scoffed, then walked away. There was no fucking way I was doing that. Fucking ridiculous. “JJ,” I said, tapping her shoulder. She turned to face me. “I’ll take the far East quadrant.” I pointed to her map, signaling to the area of the forest that I was referring to. It happened to be the smallest with the least amount of volunteers to oversee, so I figured that Hotch would at least compromise on that. “And I’ll check out the—"

Hotch suddenly grabbed my bicep a little harder than expected and started pulling me to the board room to talk to me privately. He let go of my arm as I stumbled inside, catching my balance quickly before turning to face him. He was frowning like he was angry with me. My eyes followed him as he locked the door then proceeded to turn all of the blinds up so that they were closed, making it so that no one could see into the room.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked me, crossing his arms over his chest once the room was made private and dark.

I shrugged. “I’m going to go help those kids.”

He shook his head. “I’m benching you.”

“Hotch—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

He was oddly calm. Usually, if I gave him push back like this, he’d try to be a little more demanding— whether it be with his boss or Sir tone. Either would have worked on me, but he was still holding back. Asshole. Just fucking crack. Please. Give me something in response to my pushback. Recognize that I’m fucking with you because I want you back, and just do something! Please!

“You can’t bench me—”

Hotch’s eyes narrowed. “I’m pulling you from the field. You shouldn’t have come back this early. And I don’t want you to get hurt, especially since there are new factors involved.”

I chuckled. So that was what this was about. I wasn’t even showing, and he was already losing his shit. This was exactly why I was scared to tell him I was pregnant in the first place. I knew that this would fucking happen. “That’s bullshit,” I snapped. I just wanted him to fight with me. Was that too much to ask? “You didn’t pull JJ out of the field until she was too pregnant to even walk.”

“That was different.”

“It really fucking isn’t, Aaron! I’m going to go out there and I’m going to help find those kids and our Unsub, and there’s really nothing you can do to stop me right now. If you want to pull me out of the field, then you’re going to have to wait until we get back to the office and tell Strauss exactly why.” I started making my way towards the door. “Until then, I’m going—"

Hotch stepped in my way, making me crash into him slightly, but he didn’t waver. “Sit down and shut up,” Hotch demanded gruffly.

I gulped and instinctively took an obedient seat on the couch. There was the Hotch I knew. I found him in there somehow, which meant that I was right about him holding back on my behalf. He still wanted to be rough with me, I could see it in his eyes; but he was doing everything in his power to not do it because he thought I was fragile. I wasn’t fragile. He knew better than anyone that I wasn’t fragile. Hopefully, all it would take was this one snap and we’d be back in business.

Hotch paced the room for a moment before stopping just in front of me. He roughly pinched my face with one hand to make me look up at him. “You want things to be normal? Fine. Stop being a brat and listen to my orders. You’re staying here with Reid, and that’s the end of it.” He let go of my face.

“Yes, Sir.” I nodded.

His chest fell as he let out a relieved sigh, “Good girl.” He ran his fingers through his hair as he caught his breath, trying to come to terms with what he had just done, and how he thought it was entirely out of line. “Sorry,” he whispered under his breath, ashamed.

I shook my head while standing. “I love you.” I took his face in my hands and kissed him gingerly. “I’m sorry for pushing your buttons.”

He kissed me back. “It’s okay.” He let go of me, and I let go of him, then, within an instant, Hotch was storming off towards the door. “Call me if you and Reid find anything.”

I hesitantly agreed, watching him leave the board room and head out with the team, the Rangers, and all of the volunteers. It was just me and Reid in the Park Ranger’s office now. He glanced over at me, confusion written all over his face, but I just shrugged it off. I didn’t need him asking questions when I was still coming to terms with it myself.

I shook my head, unfolded my arms, and headed to the map table to search it with my eyes and fingers to find anywhere that stood out to me as a good place to hide out for the winter and to keep hostages. Reid was hovering over it with a pen in hand in order to help him pinpoint certain areas. When he saw something, he circled it. The only time I spotted something, I asked him to circle it, too.

Yet, all I could think about was Hotch while I should have been thinking about those kids that were out there, scared out of their wits as a monster did who knew what with them. I should have been focused. We weren’t supposed to let our emotions get in the way, which was a main concern Hotch and I had when we initially started dating. We couldn’t forget our work. We couldn’t let our relationship get in the way of saving lives. And I was trying to remind myself of that while staring at that map, attempting to force my eyes to focus in on something, but I just couldn’t. My mind was elsewhere.

“He’s probably hiding them in a cave,” he continued. I hummed a thoughtless agreement. “Somewhere near water so that he can live off the land.” I agreed again. “And then aliens came down and took them.” I hummed again. “What’s wrong with you?” Reid asked, circling a waterfall on the map. I cocked a brow, knowing that he could sense my confusion without having to look up. “I mean… I don’t want to pry, but something’s off.”

“It’s nothing,” I insisted. I knew that he was referring to how Hotch and I were practically dancing around each other, which wasn’t like us at all— especially since we just went through something which should have only brought us closer.

Reid looked up at me through his eyelashes for a brief moment to get a profile on me. He looked back down. “It makes sense, you know,” he commented while still scribbling on the map. I raised a brow, and he sensed my confusion again, so he continued, “Hotch has lost a lot. More than anyone should have to lose. It’s no surprise that he’s being more careful with you than he ever was with anyone else. He’s had to learn and evolve based on his experiences, and that evolution has brought him to being— for a lack of a better term— a helicopter parent. I don't think he’s necessarily trying to suffocate you, like you think he is. In his mind, he’s reminding himself of everything he could have done differently with Haley that could have saved their relationship and her life, and he’s testing out these new behaviors with you.

They say that a mother’s bond with her child is the strongest connection any two humans can have; but we’re still primal creatures, and the fathers have a tendency to become overbearingly protective once they are aware that their mates are carrying their child. Think of it like a wolf marking its territory. The wolf becomes hostile towards anything or anyone that tries to come near its territory because it’s their safe space and they have an instinct to protect it with their life. Fathers of most species are the same way with the mothers of their children, and humans happen to be the worst about it because we’re more advanced creatures—”

“Reid,” I spoke up, catching his attention, “you’re rambling.”

He chuckled self-consciously. “Sorry… I’m just trying to say that… things aren’t going to go back to normal— for a while, at least. He’s trying to make up for his past mistakes. And after what happened in Hawai’i, you can understand why he’s a little uneasy and a little more protective than you’d like. It might help if both of you, I don’t know… set some rules and boundaries.”

I smirked. “Is that the doctor’s advice?”

He shook his head and looked back down at the map. “It’s your friend’s advice.”

“Thank you, Spencer.” I put a hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly, the walkie talkie on the table started buzzing with static. Mine and Reid’s attention to turn to it just before we heard Morgan’s voice echo through the room with an update from the trail, a really good update, actually. They found the daughter. She was safe with him and Emily, and they were sending her back to the office with a Ranger so that I could question her because they couldn’t find her brother anywhere yet. I picked up the walkie to acknowledge his report.

We waited about thirty minutes after the call from Morgan to see the Copelands come in with JJ from the trail while looking around for their daughter who hadn’t arrived yet. JJ showed them to the boardroom so that they could wait there. When they were sitting down and holding each other anxiously, JJ came over to me and Reid and asked if we would be fine with waiting with the Copelands while she headed back out to the trail to work with the other volunteers who had a million questions for her. I shrugged and insisted that she go. I could handle this while Reid kept looking at the map.

On her way out, JJ ran into Ana and the Ranger that had brought her back. Ana was covered in dirt, her jacket torn up, her hair knotted, her eyes sunken out of exhaustion. I didn’t see any bruises on her, though. In fact, from where I was standing, I didn’t see any sign of any kind of abuse—sexual or otherwise. It made sense. Unfortunately, our Unsub’s type was kids, but he preferred boys. Whatever happened out there in the woods, there was probably a reason that Ana was with us and not Robert. Hopefully, she could give us some answers.

After sitting around for a few minutes, watching as the Copelands held their daughter close and let her cry against them, I decided to go in. Sitting there and watching them was just breaking my heart. All it did was remind me of all the times after Haley’s death when Jack would cling to me for dear life, crying into my shoulder until my shirt was soaked and I needed to change. I had never heard anyone sob in pain like that until that dreadful day when Hotch broke down, and then Jack started having nightmares. The two of them were in pain… They just couldn’t stop sobbing and whimpering. Ana was the same way.

I couldn’t cry like that when they found me in Hawai’i. Part of me knew that if I broke down and sobbed like that, then Hotch would have been in even worse shape than he already was. Besides, I had happy news that offset how I was really feeling. We had this little miracle in our lives now, and all of my focus was being drilled into that instead of remembering the panic I felt when I saw Gene standing just behind Hotch on the beach. I had to remember that in just a few months, there would be another little Hotchner running around—just as we had always joked about—and it distracted me from waking up with nightmares of sitting in that cabin, anticipating the moment they would finally decide to get rid of me.

I couldn’t keep thinking about it. I was sick of sitting around and waiting for something to happen. So, I carefully pushed into the room that the Copelands were sitting in, and I entered with a welcoming, kind smile that would help the scared little girl warm up to me. A thought occurred to me. I was never going to let my children be that terrified. Ever. I dreaded being an overbearing parent, but I knew what was out there, and I knew what I needed to do in order to protect my family. I was going to do whatever it would take. Neither of my kids would ever have to be in Ana or Robert’s shoes. No matter what.

“Hi, Ana.” I held my hand out for her to shake, just a simple way of me building rapport with her while also making her feel more adult and brave than she really was. “My name’s Y/N Greenaway, and I’m with the FBI. I’ve been looking for you and your brother, Robert.” She shook my hand warily. As she let go, I sat down in the seat across from her and crossed my ankles over each other. “Are you up for a few questions?”

Ana nodded shyly, tucking under her mother’s arm as much as possible.

“Cool.” I smiled at her. “What do you remember?”

“I shouldn’t’ve left Robert, but he told me to run. He made me promise to go when he distracted the man.”

“You did the right thing, Ana,” I reassured her, playing along with the dodge of my original question.

“But he still has my brother.”

“You being here because you listened to your brother is going to help us, though. I promise. I need you to tell me about the man who took you if we’re going to find Robert. Can you do that?”

She nodded. “We were in a cave…” she began slowly, pondering her words carefully as she tried to push through the nightmares running through her. I knew what that felt like. “He kept us in a cage with toys. Lots and lots of toys. There were no lights, and he stole Robert’s flashlight to make sure we couldn’t see anything.”

“What about the man, Ana?”

It was great that she was already being so open and talkative, but we knew all of this because Morgan and Emily were already searching for a cave, and the Unsub was probably long gone by now if he knew that Ana had escaped. We needed to know about him specifically in order to build the profile and find him.

“He was dirty,” she answered, “and scary. He was tall and fat. He walked funny and didn’t like to talk—”

“What do you mean by ‘he walked funny’?”

“Like, with a limp…”

“So, he was hurt?”

“I think so. That was why he couldn’t catch me, but he could catch Robert. He always took Robert. Never me. He took Robert at one point, and when he came back, he was crying and shaking, and that was when he told me that I needed to run the next time the man came for him. So, Robert pretended like he had to use the bathroom, and the man left the cage unlocked… Robert pushed him over long enough for me to run.” She started to sob. “I shouldn’t have left him!” She hid her face against her mother’s chest. “I shouldn’t’ve left him!”

I rubbed my hand over her back soothingly. “You did really good, Ana. Thank you.”

There was a knock at the door from Reid, a signal that he needed to talk to me privately. I nodded to him. I had gotten everything I could get out of Ana—at least for right now—and it was probably best just to let her relax and be with her family. I knew that after Hawai’i, all I wanted was to be with our family. I wanted Hotch, Jack, Morgan, Emily, Rossi, Reid, and JJ. I needed their support. I needed to know that they were okay, because if they were, then it gave me every reason—or excuse, depending on how you looked at it—to be okay, too. Ana probably needed that right now, too.

So, I silently stepped out of the room, letting the door fall shut quietly. I crossed my arms over my chest as I looked at Reid. He lifted his phone and turned the screen to face me, at which point I saw an image of a flower I was not at all familiar with, and I really had zero clue as to why he was showing it to me. I shrugged.

Reid looked at the photo again. “Emily and Morgan found his cave.”

“Robert?”

“They’re both gone. But Emily sent me this picture.”

“What is it?”

“It’s called Devil’s Claw.”

“Which is…”

“It helps heal swollen joints. Without it, our Unsub will be in a lot of pain.”

I glanced over my shoulder back into the room where Ana was hugging her parents as tight as she could—the same way Jack would always hug me and Hotch whenever he was upset. A superman hug. I looked back at Reid. “She told me that our Unsub walks with a limp. It’s probably connected.”

“If it’s really that bad that he still walks with a limp while taking this, it means he’s going to need more of it. And fast.”

“Where can you get it?”

“I mean, the flower version, like this, is all over the forest out there. But you can get it in pill or powder form on the black market, if you know where to look.”

“He’s going to head into town with Robert,” I realized. “And if he’s spending all of his time out on the trail, not working… That means he doesn’t have any money.”

“He’s going to sell Robert for drugs.”

I hesitated. “He wouldn’t give Robert away entirely. It goes against his M.O. You’re right, he’s going to sell Robert; but not the way you would think.” I hurried over to the walkie talkie sitting on the table and lifted it towards my mouth, pressing the TALK button as fast as I could. “Hotch.” I let go of the button and waited.

“I’m here,” he answered momentarily.

“Everyone needs to come back. Our Unsub isn’t out there anymore. He’s heading into town.”

And they did come back. It took a bit, but the entire team raced to get back to the Ranger’s office, at which point, we started discussing where the Unsub could have possibly gone, using our extremely loose profile we had. It really wasn’t enough to present to the Rangers or PD, but it was barely enough for us to use to our advantage. Knowing that he would have to get his medicine as fast as possible, we knew that he was going to turn to the black market—but in order to know who was possibly selling anything similar to Devil’s Claw, he had to already have connections in that world. Since we had previously deduced that he had been operating on the trail for at least fifteen years, that meant that he probably hadn’t met many criminals since then, so it had to be beforehand. But how did this pattern not appear sooner? Why hadn’t he started kidnapping children or abusing them sooner?

The simple answer was prison. It would explain why he was stagnant for a while, and why he was so fond of hiding in isolation. Not to mention, he probably met other pedophiles in there. And drug dealers. If he was desperate, he was going to meet with someone he knew and could trust to understand his medical condition, and also someone who would be willing to take time with a child as payment.

So, we called Garcia. We asked her to look for a man with a sexual assault history who was released from prison about sixteen years ago, then missed parole meetings fifteen years ago by going entirely off the grid. One would be shocked by how many men matched that description. So, we asked her to look for someone who had originally been housed near other registered sex offenders before going missing. That did the trick.

His name was Shane Wyland, and he had a long medical history when he was in prison. I mean, sex offenders were top targets inside, but he went to the infirmary more than the average pedophile. When I asked if it had to do with swollen joints, she agreed. She told us that Shane had a condition that made it increasingly difficult to keep moving around, even with the medication he was getting. But, in prison, they didn’t have what he needed. So, he had to get it from his bunk mate, another pedophile who was released around the same time as Shane.

“We need an address for his bunk mate,” Hotch insisted.

“That’s the thing,” Garcia began while still typing in order to get the address to us ASAP, “there are a handful of registered sex offenders who all share the same address.”

“What?” I questioned.

“It’s a cluster,” Emily said. When we all cocked a brow at her, she continued, “Since sex offenders can’t be near parks or school zones, their housing options are limited. Usually, they’ll reach out to their buddies from prison and ask if they know anywhere that will house them. That’s how they all end up with each other.”

Hotch shook his head. He hissed, “Garcia, the address, please.”

“Right. Sorry, sir.” She pressed the ENTER key of her computer as hard as she could, and we all felt our phones buzz.

As they all looked at their phones to take note of the building number and street name, I watched Hotch to see if there was any way he would let me go. They had a whole building to clear. I could be an asset. My time was better spent clearing the building with them than sitting around in the Park Ranger’s office, counting the minutes until the team would return. I really fucking hated feeling useless.

The team started collecting their gear, throwing on vests as fast as they could and putting comms in their ears. I waited for Hotch to tell me one way or the other. But, when I didn’t do anything, he didn’t seem to argue. I figured that if I were to move towards them and start gearing up, too, that was when things would have spiraled. All I could do was shake my head in disappointment and move to take a seat at the table with Reid. He was staying behind in case that lead didn’t pan out, which wasn’t very likely, but it was still a good idea to have back up. But he didn’t need me there. That was a one person job, and we all fucking knew it.

“Hey—” JJ called out, hurrying over to me. She slowed as I turned to face her. “Are you and Hotch alright?”

I peered over her shoulder to see Hotch talking to Morgan about how they were going to narrow down where the Unsub was and how we were going to get to him without letting the kid get hurt or die. I looked back at her. “Hotch is trying to pull me out of the field after this case, and we had a fight about it.”

“Oh…” She looked at her feet, almost like she regretted asking in the first place.

Ever since the bombing case in New York, I stopped opening up to JJ about my relationship with Hotch. She had insisted that she thought that Hotch and I were taking things to fast, and she almost seemed to doubt us. It really wasn’t until our wedding that I saw that she had changed her mind. But that was a little too late. By that point, I didn’t necessarily care about any opinion she had on my relationship. I valued her as a friend and a team member, of course; but… this… I just…

“Well,” she began hesitantly, “I know that you’ll figure it out. The two of you always get through it. I hardly hear about you guys fighting, so I wouldn’t stress over it too much.”

I nodded and shrugged. I mean, she was right, actually—kind of throwing what I just thought back in my face. But still. Hotch and I had always been honest and open with each other, which was why we were so successful. If I just listened to Spence, used my words and tried to level with Hotch, then we could sort all of this out and come to a better conclusion than pulling me out of the field entirely.

When they left without a word to me or Reid, I sat down across from Reid. We sat in silence for nearly thirty minutes as we waited around uselessly. The team let us know when they arrived in the city; and they let us know how they were splitting up. Rossi and Hotch were going to stay outside while Emily and Morgan were going to head inside, and JJ was going to coordinate with the local PD that had just appeared on site. A few minutes later, the comms started buzzing with back-and-forths.

“Hey, Hotch,” Emily said into the comms. “It looks like Robert was in the apartment, and there was a struggle. There’s a chance he could have escaped, which means that Shane and his bunk mate are probably chasing him around right now.”

Hotch responded, “Alright. You and Morgan continue to search the building, I’ll start a perimeter set up out here.”

“Got it.”

The comms went quiet again. I pouted and slumped forward, resting my elbows on my knees. Reid watched me through his lashes like he was trying not to stare at me. I glanced back at him. When our eyes met, he cleared his throat and shuffled around in his seat to make it look like he was keeping busy with the files in front of him. I rolled my eyes.

“You remember when you were shot in the leg and Hotch made you stay at the office during cases?” I asked quietly, moving to pick at the wood table in an attempt to cure my boredom. Reid hummed an agreement. “How did you not go crazy?”

Perhaps that wasn’t the right wording I should have used around him… He was always nervous about his dilaudid problem and the fear that his mother’s schizophrenia could be passed onto him. “Crazy” wasn’t exactly the right term for Spencer Reid. He was our resident genius, and that put a lot of pressure on him, and I wished that he knew that he wasn’t crazy, but I could tell that he thought he was. So, I almost felt bad for the slip up. But Reid genuinely didn’t seem to notice, which was a relief.

Reid crossed his legs, getting himself comfortable, and he looked back up at me with a little more confidence this time around. “I’m not gonna lie, Y/N, it wasn’t fun. None of us are used to sitting at Quantico all day like Garcia is. When Hotch officially benched me after Hankle and getting shot, there were times when I thought I was going crazy. I was extremely anxious while just sitting around all day. And I was killing myself with worry that one of you—or maybe all of you—wouldn’t come home one day… But I had to suck it up and just go with it until I got better because I knew that, ultimately, Hotch was just trying to protect me. Now, he’s just trying to protect you, too. He’d do it for any one of us for any number of reasons. My advice is the same as before. Talk to him, Y/N. And, if that doesn’t work, then just… suck it up and get through the next few months, because no matter how often you argue with him, you’re not going to win. Trust me. I tried.”

“I hate arguing with him, Spencer…”

He nodded. “I know. That’s why it might just be best to let him win this one.”

I lowered my head and leaned back again to focus on kicking the carpet. “Yeah.” Maybe he was right. I mean, maybe I shouldn’t have been taking advice from Spencer Reid, the guy who never had a girlfriend in his life… but his advice was surprisingly nice and welcoming.

“Hotch, we’ve got Robert, but Shane’s gone. We think he might be in the immediate vicinity,” Emily said over the comm again.

I smiled. They got him. They found Ana, and now they had found Robert. Knowing how many cops were crawling around that neighborhood now that Hotch had created that a perimeter, Shane Wyland was probably long gone. There was no way in hell he stuck around long enough to see if he could get Robert back. He likely knew as well as I did that if he managed to escape, he could keep taking other boys like Robert, and he could keep getting away with it. Even now that we knew who we were looking for, the trail was too long for us to track him. He was a ghost in the wind. But none of that necessarily mattered right now. This was technically a win for us. We saved two kids from a monster, and we discovered who that monster was. At least we could keep an eye out for Wyland in the future.

I stood and walked to the boardroom to tell the Courtlands the news. When I told them that their son was alive and well, they jumped to their feet while letting out breaths of relieve, and demanded to see him immediately. I told them that a Ranger would be driving them to the hospital in the city. Within an instant, they were pushing past me, racing to go seek out a Ranger that could take them as soon as possible. I didn’t take offense to that, though. I knew that they were overwhelmed by their joy of knowing that their son was alive, and all they wanted now was to hold him in their arms. It reminded me of Hotch when he found me in Hawai’i.

Hotch…

I sat down on the couch in silence and reflected on what just happened, and what I was inevitably going to say to him. I loved him. I would protect him to every end. In fact, we said as much to each other in our wedding vows a month ago. Maybe Reid was right about not trying to fight all of this, and instead just let Hotch win this time around because it was easier than making a big deal out of it. Inevitably, I was going to get back to work. Probably in about a year or so. And as shitty as that seemed, at least it meant I got to go back. Hotch could have totally insisted that I quit the FBI—though I knew he would never ask me to do that; so, at least he was giving me the chance to still work out of the field. I could live with that for the time being. However, what I needed to discuss with Hotch more than anything was his behavior and how he was going about protecting me, because I really didn’t need him to stifle me through all of this. After being trapped in that cabin in Hawai’i, I never wanted to be trapped anywhere ever again.

When I saw him turn the corner into the office a few hours later after they gave up on looking for Shane Wyland, I nodded sideways towards the doorway I was standing in, letting him know that I needed him to join me. He silently noticed. As the team patted each other on the back and celebrated getting the kid back safe and sound, Hotch quietly and politely excused himself from everyone. They didn’t seem to stop him. Reid saw what was going on, though, and he sent me a supportive smile that let me know I was doing the right thing.

Hotch walked past me into the room, and I closed the door behind him. “Aaron, we need to talk.” I sat down on the couch, but he leaned back against the table with his arms crossed over his chest. He was listening. “I understand that you’re just trying to do what you think is best for me. I know that you think that keeping me locked up in the tower will keep me safe. And I appreciate all of that. I really do. In fact, I love that you want to protect me and take care of me, but you need to realize that at some point, you need to take a step back. That I can’t be babied, Aaron. It’s not in my nature, and we both know that. I can’t have you hovering over my shoulder every second of every day while telling me that I can and can’t do my job. I can do this. It wasn’t unreasonable for me to go out and look for those kids, but it was unreasonable for me to ask to go looking for the Unsub in the city—I know that. I know myself and I know my limits. I’m not going to suddenly break just because I’m pregnant. I’m okay right now.

“When I need to take a step back from the field, I will do so without hesitation or argument; but until then, you need to keep letting me do my job the way I’m supposed to. I just need you to believe in me—"

“If I didn’t believe in you, we wouldn’t have gotten this far.”

“If you believe in me, then just… act like it! Why is it that I always have to go above and beyond to support you and your dreams, but I’m stifled because you’re scared? You believe in me, but you don’t—”

“You have always been able to do what you wanted, Y/N! I have done everything I can to restrain myself from being controlling in every aspect of our lives, despite the fact that it’s all I know. I grew up in a household where my father was controlling, manipulative, and abusive. That was how I learned to become a man, and I always thought that would work because I was young and naïve; but Haley left, and you came along— and you…” He took in a deep breath. “You have always been this wild and free spirit that I knew I couldn’t control, so I wanted to step back and let you thrive because I know you’re capable of so much, Y/N. Do you remember that I wouldn’t even fucking look at you when you joined the team because I was so fucking in love with you that I didn’t know how to stop myself from letting my feelings trump your dreams? But you came waltzing into my office, demanding answers, and the next thing I knew, you were meeting Jack and telling me that you love me. I have had to fight an inner battle every single day since meeting you between screaming from the top of my lungs how much I love you and want to hide you away from the cruelness of this world, and letting you spread your wings and flourish as an agent. You deserve every bit of happiness, and I know that a lot of that comes from your work, so I never want to step on your toes. But you’re my wife, Y/N. I made a vow to you that I would protect you, no matter what. And, you’re right… maybe I’m being more protective with you than I have with anyone in the past, but can you blame me? Dammit, with everything I’ve been through, can you blame me for not wanting to lose you, too?”

His eyes wandered to my stomach as he sat back down. “We’re having a baby, Y/N. I’m not just protecting you anymore, and you’re not just taking care of yourself anymore. What happens if you get shot, hmm? What happens if you get stabbed like Foyet did to me? What happens if you get taken again like in Hawai’i? What happens if I lose you like I lost Kate and Haley? Am I just supposed to pretend like I wouldn’t die without you here? Am I supposed to forget about you and the best few years of my life? Why do I have to pretend like I don’t care just to make you feel better about yourself? Since meeting you, I could never bear the thought of losing you, but now I can’t bear the thought of losing either of you,” he pressed a palm to my stomach. “Aren’t my feelings valid, too? Don’t I get a say in the safety of our child?” He cupped my face with his other hand. “Please don’t make me lose you, too. I won’t live if I lose you.” He sniffled as a tear slid down his cheek. I reached up and carefully wiped it away with my thumb. “I believe in you, Y/N, more than I even believe in myself…” He screwed his eyes shut as the tears started to fall faster. “But I don’t want to lose you because you’re too damn stubborn to just sit out of the field for a few months.” He sniffled again. “Why is it so hard for you to just understand that I love you so much that it hurts to even think about being away from you? Can’t you just accept that I want what’s best for you— I always have— and right now that means keeping you safe from any harm.”

I rested my forehead against his. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Y/N. I just need you to understand that I love you. More than anything.”

I kissed away a tear running down his cheek. “I know, baby.”

“If I didn’t believe in you… I couldn’t have stood before all of our friends and family a month ago, and said, ‘This is the person I can’t bear to lose. This is the one thing in my life I can’t lose.’ That’s what I thought we agreed on…”

He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug so that he could hide his face in the crook of my neck. I tangled my fingers in his hair. I hadn’t meant to upset him, but I just needed him to know how I was feeling—but I had never stopped to ask myself how he was feeling, which was incredibly selfish of me.

“How about this,” I began offering carefully, waiting to see if he would stop me, but he didn’t, “when I start to show, I’ll stay back at the office with Garcia.” It wasn’t what I wanted, but if it made him feel better, I was willing to make that compromise.

He sniffled and sat up. We held each other’s faces, searching each other’s eyes, trying to find a reason that we shouldn’t agree to that. But there was no reason not to. If it were up to him, I would be sitting at home for the next few months, but that wasn’t reasonable for me; and if it were up to me, I would be in the field up until the day I was giving birth, but Hotch would never let that happen in a million years. At least, being at Quantico meant that I could still help with the cases and the profiles.

“The office or the house at any given moment,” he negotiated.

I shrugged and nodded.

“Okay.” He leaned in to kiss me before hugging me again, our chins tucked over each other’s shoulders. “I love you.”

I grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt on his back, feeling the way his broad shoulders tensed, and his breathing had slowed. I smiled lightly against him. We were going to be okay. “I love you, too.”

---------

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @desperately-bisexual @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc @Braty-angel

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader

23 notes · View notes

jemej3m · 4 years

Text

a comprehensive set of rules (part 1)

light and breezy!! (this is not a b99 au)

this is...long.

plot?????? what?????????

January:

“So you’re telling me,” Aaron repeated. “You’re pretty sure this guy is into some organised crime shit?”

Andrew made a noise, rolling over on his bed to press the phone between his ear and the pillow. Usually their calls were short and succinct, as was tradition ever since they departed from college - Andrew heading to Baltimore for policing academy and Aaron to Chicago for med-school - with Aaron doing most of the talking and Andrew occasionally humming in response.

Tonight Andrew was riddled with questions. Usually his moral compass was simple and easy to adhere to, but this was - to put it mildly - fucked. He didn’t care about authority, or loyalty to his police oath, but he couldn’t just screw a guy whilst suspecting him of murder. Or whatever Neil had gotten himself into.

You can’t talk, his own brain reminded him, so kindly, so gently. He made a scathing noise and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“A woman tried to kill him and talked shit about his family. You should’ve seen how bone-white he went at his father’s mention.”

“So - you’re just going to excuse him? On the basis of what, an inclination to murder is genetic?”

Sometimes it was genetic. Andrew almost laughed. Aaron heard the irony in his own words, too and grumbled out a low ‘Shut up.’

“He said he couldn’t date a cop, anyway.” Not that Andrew was interested in dating.

It did appear as though he and Neil was very incompatible: Neil didn’t do sex and relationships, was criminally inclined and had yet to text him since their disaster of a second date.

Andrew was only emotionally ready enough for casual sex, one-night-stands and loveless hookups, and didn’t exactly know whether or not he could ignore Neil’s background, seeing as every day he went in to work and interrogated perps with gang tattoos and blood still drying on their hands.

And yet.

Andrew still wanted to see Neil. See he was alright. Talk to him. Spend time with him. Andrew still wanted to try and set something up, something that’d benefit both of them, maybe a way that Neil could escape from his current life, a way for Andrew to get invaluable knowledge.

Andrew still wanted to try and have something with Neil. Not romantic. Not a relationship, or sex, or even friendship.

Just - something.

“That’s that, then.” Aaron said, unhelpful. “Nicky was all screechy about it on the phone. Said that the guy was cute. I bet he has no clue.”

“No,” Andrew agreed, making a mental note to check out ‘Allison’ and ensure his cousin was safe. “No clue at all.” He sighed, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. “It doesn’t matter. I doubt we’ll ever see each other again.”

February:

“Shit,” Andrew muttered as coffee dribbled down his vest. The taser tucked into its pocket made an odd sound, as though it were drowning or something. He fished it out and sighed: Kevin, another fresh-faced detective who seemed to think he had the right to criticise Andrew’s every move, wouldn’t let this go. Andrew seemed to always be needing new equipment, so much so that Kevin had decided to photocopy the request forms and pin them snootily to Andrew’s desk.

Andrew hated Kevin. Renee had forced him to be civil, though, and he trusted his partner enough to listen to her advice.

“Didn’t see you there,” came a familiar voice. Andrew’s head snapped up: canvasing the truly miraculous sight that stood before him. “So sorry.”

Neil’d had his haircut since Andrew had last seen him, but he bore purple shadows under his eyes, his skin pale and sickly. A hood was drawn up, the sweater too large on Neil’s wiry frame. His jeans were loose too. He was far from the well-dressed bad idea Andrew had gone on two dates with, just over two months prior.

“Come into this cafe, officer,” Neil said, voice flat. “There’s a bathroom.” With that, he spun on his heel and marched back into the coffee-shop that he had no doubt been waiting outside of for Andrew to pass by.

Andrew followed silently, ignoring the lukewarm coffee that was dripping down his chest. There was a tiny bathroom with two cubicles, of which Neil somehow had the key for. He spun around and leant against the door, eyes dark.

“Neil,” Andrew said. “What the fuck?”

“I can’t be seen with you, or talking to you,” he managed, voice slightly raw. “Things are - not great, right now. I’m sorry I vanished.”

“You have to give me context,” Andrew insisted, stepping closer. “What the hell is going on?”

Neil shut his eyes. “If I promise you that I’ll explain everything, afterwards, will you help me?”

“I take my promises seriously,” Andrew warned.

Neil nodded weakly, wringing his fingers. “I know.”

Andrew sighed, taking some paper towel from next to the sink and patting himself dry. “What’s happening?”

Neil swallowed. “My father’s going to court, based on charges of tax evasion and money laundering.”

Andrew gestured for him to continue.

Neil hung his head. “I’m going to usurp him, him and his closest allies. I need a cop I can filter information through to, so that they can be locked up permanently. All five of them.”

“Someone once told me that they’d never be safe unless the threat was dead,” Andrew said, voice low. “You can’t fool me into thinking you just want them in jail.”

Neil had the audacity to look surprised, like maybe he thought Andrew wouldn’t remember. He’d learn to assume Andrew knew everything soon enough. “He has enough enemies that it’ll be taken care of, for me. Honest enough for you, officer?”

Andrew straightened out. “And when he and his crooks are gone? What then?”

Neil’s smile was almost sad. "Then I will take his place.”

“You could dismantle it entirely,” Andrew argued. “You don’t have to follow his footsteps.”

Neil just shook his head. “There are higher powers at work, Andrew. It’s my legacy: I have no choice." He in a shuddering breath. “If I could abandon it all, I would. I don’t want this life. I don’t want his name, or his smile, or his bloodthirst. I don’t.”

“Neil,” Andrew warned.

The man squeezed his eyes shut. “You know I watched him kill my mom? She didn’t want this life either. He was going to kill me too. Maybe he should have.”

“Neil.”

Andrew had the man’s chin pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He opened his eyes.

“I’ll help you,” Andrew said, against better judgement. “Tell me your name and I’ll help you.”

Neil’s swallow was constricted, weighted. He took out a tiny slip of paper and tucked it into Andrew’s pocket. “I'm still Neil.” His inhale was desperate. “I am still Neil.”

Andrew nodded slightly, stepping back and watching as the man unlocked the door and slipped out.

Slowly - carefully - Andrew unfolded the little piece of paper.

It was a business card, the logo embossed into the paper.

Nathan Wesninski and Co. it read, accented with gold.

March:

“How the fuck...” Dan said, flicking through the file. She, Wymack and Renee all sat opposite Andrew, peering over his work with trepidation.

Under a strictly Need-To-Know policy, Kevin was excluded for his previous ties to Riko Moriyama, who was the son of a yakuza boss (though that was not widely known). Matt was excluded on the basis of too many mouths to control, though Dan would probably fill him in. Seth was excluded because he sucked and Andrew hated him. That left his partner, his captain and his sergeant, all of whom were mildly shocked that Andrew had picked up such a large and intricate case independently.

“How did you find all this?” Dan demanded, recoiling from the contents of his file. Beside the many photographs laid a dried chunk of flesh in a sealed bag, of which DNA tests would confirm to be Mary Wesninski’s, who vanished over 14 years ago. Neil said he’d cut it from the branching aorta of his mother’s heart, of which his father kept in a small container, alongside her tongue and eyes, seeing as his father would miss a whole organ, but not a chunk of the underside. He didn’t get his name the Butcher for nothing.

“Unless we have a weapon, or something with prints that connects Wesninski to that-” Wymack pointed to the piece of Mary’s heart. “It’s still circumstantial without your CI coming forward as a witness.”

“They will die,” Andrew said calmly. “I’ll keep working for a connection, but nothing about my CI gets published. Nothing.”

“Okay,” Renee agreed, smiling warmly as she rounded the table. She waited for his nod to drop a hand on his shoulder, rubbing small circles of warmth. “We’ll figure something out, Andrew.”

“I can’t believe we have a chance against Wesninski,” Wymack muttered, rubbing his temples.

“Not yet, we don’t.” Dan reminded him.

Not yet, Andrew agreed.

April:

Neil walked a slow circle around Andrew’s apartment, eyeing the windows and doors, the fire escape, the kettle, probably even the fucking toilet paper. Andrew watched as he toed off his shoes, pulled his sweater sleeves over his hands and finally joined Andrew in the living room.

“Got bored of figuring out the best point of exit?”

Neil scowled, settling on the couch beside him. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Well, yours wasn’t exactly an option, was it?”

Neil just drew his knees up to his chin, curling into a small ball on the couch. “The trial’s been set for late September.”

“I know,” Andrew agreed.

“You haven’t brought any evidence to the prosecutor yet.”

“I haven’t.”

“Was what I gave not good enough?”

“No,” Andrew grimaced. “A chunk of Mary’s heart tells us she’s dead. Without prints, or a weapon, or DNA evidence surrounding her body, there’s no way to connect Nathan to her death.”

Neil winced, teeth biting into his lip. The minute rocking back and forth was beginning to get on Andrew’s nerves. “I can’t...I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Andrew insisted. “We solve crimes for a living. There’s always an answer.”

Neil scoffed, body still shaking. “You’re probably aware of 20% of what goes on in this city.”

“So tell me the other 80.”

Neil stared.

Andrew gestured vaguely. “The different gangs, the territory lines, shoot outs and brandings and who’s having an affair with who. I don’t care. Just talk.”

“What good is gossip?” Neil wondered aloud.

“You’d be surprised,” Andrew said lightly, like this wasn’t completely for Neil’s benefit. He needed to get Neil out of his head. It looked like the man hadn’t sleep in weeks, his nails bitten down to the quick and body stiff with bandages. The fact that Andrew couldn’t help him much more than this - at least not now - was putting him through the wringer.

“Fine,” Andrew huffed when Neil wasn’t forthcoming, getting off the couch. From under the TV he grasped a random DVD and shoved it into the player that Nicky had bought for him a few years ago.

“What’s this?” Neil blinked, owlishly.

Andrew just dropped back down onto the couch. “Do you trust me?”

Neil looked at him, eyes narrowed.

Andrew reached out to push the long fringe away from Neil’s eyes. “Neil, do you trust me?”

“I...” he looked down to his hands. They slowly curled into fists. “I want to.”

Andrew tilted his chin up with the tip of his finger. For a moment there was nothing else, just blue and gold and fate and future. “Then believe me when I say I will find a way.”

Slowly, Neil nodded.

May:

“Dimaccio, Plank, and the Romero siblings,” Andrew leant on the table with his fists, the fies splayed out around them. “We lock them up, one by one. Nathan loses his circle, loses his security. He’ll put out the wrong foot without anyone else to fall back on.”

“Who should we start with, then?” Wymack inquired, letting Andrew steer this investigation down to the very last report signature.

Andrew arched an eyebrow, momentarily recalling the jagged scars on the inside of Neil’s elbows.

“She’d wanted to cut my tendons, once,” he said, before yanking down the sleeves again.

“Ladies first,” he told Wymack, picking up the photo of Lola Malcom and pinning it right into the centre of their case-board.

June:

Dimaccio snarled as he was lead away in shackles, hair shaved close to his skull. He was probably double Andrew’s height and width and had three police escorts shoving him into the back of a wagon. Across the back of his hand had been the characteristic X, the one Neil bore, the one Lola had worn too.

Two down, three to go, Andrew thought, something like pride grinning wolfishly within his chest. These were only the bail hearings: proper convictions wouldn’t be till the new year. It didn’t matter: so long as they were locked up, Andrew could move forward. Wymack stood beside him, thumbs hooked into his belt loops.

“Nice work, kiddo,” the chief acknowledged, shaking out a cigarette and gesturing to the exit. Andrew followed.

Leaning against the courthouse’s sandstone exterior, Andrew stared up into the cloudless sky with an accusatory squint, till Wymack nudged him.

“Your phone’s ringing,” he muttered, cigarette drooping with ever syllable.

Andrew fished out the burner that he always kept tucked into his back pocket. He flicked it open immediately: there was only one person who had this number.

“Andrew,” Neil panted. “Thank god. Okay. Hi.”

“N -” Andrew glanced at Wymack before turning away. “What’s going on?”

“The chances of me being able to contact you from now on will be slim to none: with two of them gone, I have to step in.”

“Christ,” Andrew muttered, stubbing out his cigarette. “Where are you now?”

“Bathroom,” Neil muttered. “Some stupid event thing for his business front. I’m not who matters right now. Do you have family that’s traceable to you? A next of kin?”

“You’ve met Nicky and Erik,” Andrew said, suddenly cold all over. “My twin and his wife live in Chicago.”

“They should be alright,” Neil murmured. “But Nicky and Erik have to go. Can they win a flight overseas? I’ll wire you through money if you need it -”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll sort it out.”

“You need to be careful,” Neil insisted. “He’s going to come after you. That’s twice your name’s been on the front of the arrest records. I’ve sorted something out, okay?”

“Forgive me if that sounds less that appealing.”

Neil laughed weakly. “It’s not a pretty solution, but it’ll work. You have to keep working, and if I can’t keep interacting with you without blowing this whole thing over, then our only choice is...”

“Allison,” Andrew muttered. “Jesus Christ.”

Neil hummed in agreement. “She’ll pick you up from yours in an hour. Be ready.”

“How does she know where I live?”

“Like she doesn’t track my every move, Minyard. She’s my accomplice. Gotta go, now. He’ll get suspicious.”

Something twisted in Andrew’s throat. “Stay safe.”

Neil paused, then mumbled “You too,” and disconnected the call.

Wymack was watching him with an arched brow.

Andrew shrugged. “My CI’s quick.”

“Unpredictable asshole,” his boss muttered, shooing him off with a derisive flick of his fingers. Andrew saluted him as he departed, before twisting on his heel and jogging back to his car.

“Guest room, guest bathroom, living room, kitchen, blah, blah.” Allison waved her hand around emphatically, her manicured nails glittering with rhinestones and pearls. They were probably real, if her apartment was anything to go by.

Everything was white, grey or pink, aside from the dark-oak parquetry on her floors. The marble countertops were polished to sparkle, every device in her kitchen practically unused. It was Nicky’s dream penthouse.

“It pays to murder, doesn’t it?” Andrew wondered when he’d inherited Neil’s loose tongue.

The look Allison gave him was withering. “I don’t murder. I clean up.”

“Because complacency is so much better than participation.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe Nicky didn’t tell me you were a fucking cop. Would’ve never set you up on a date if I knew.”

“I’m going to have his father in max security by the end of the year,” Andrew reminded her. “Don’t make me abandon the case.”

She grinned. “You wouldn’t. He’s got you wrapped around his finger.” At Andrew’s glare, she waved him off. “Don’t worry: he’s just like that. I never said that I ain’t wrapped around his finger too. It’s impossible to not want to shield him away, wrap him in copious amounts of blankets, kiss his forehead and tell him it’ll be okay. I tried it once,” she grimaced. “It didn’t work.”

Andrew didn’t picture Neil, a mobster’s son, wrapped in blankets on Andrew’s couch, smiling (genuinely) as Andrew pressed a kiss to the corner of his eye. He did not picture that. He did not.

“For what it’s worth,” Allison said, in a voice softer than Andrew thought she was capable of as she looked out the enormous windows that overlooked Baltimore’s busiest district. “I’m glad he trusts you. And I’m glad you’re helping us.”

“Don’t get sappy on me, Reynolds,” he pointed at her in warning. “I’ll lock you up too, if you give me a reason to.”

Her laugh was pearlescent, her grin cat-like. “Neil would scalp you before you could even say my full name. Don’t forget, Minyard,” she winked. “I’ve got him wrapped around my finger, too.”

this will continue in p.2 with july-december!! after that we’ll go back to our regularly scheduled softness and humour. i’ve already got another one-shot planned around kevin and neil.... :D

#andreil #mobster/cop au #pre-slash #plot!!!!!! what??????#neil josten #andrew minyard #butcher!neil #cop!andrew #p.1 #allison reynolds #david wymack #cop!foxes #this was getting too long i had to cut it half way #all for the game #aftg #im so gay for allison can u tell #jem writes

450 notes · View notes

redvoid-40 · 4 years

Text

Gaara SFW Alphabet - A to E

Another piece of writing no one asked for! All thanks to the Gaara x OC fic I’m working on! :D

I started writing the SFW Alphabet for Gaara and, while it’s a lot of fun, it’s also more time-consuming than I thought it would be so... I’ll be posting it little by little. And most likely I’ll go back and forth between SFW and NSFW alphabets. =.=

If you have any requests you’d want me to focus on, let me know!

----

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Super affectionate and not afraid to show it! Lots of hugs, kisses and all other forms of cuddling!

Fight me on this, but I believe Gaara dabbles into some PDA with his SO. I mean, you wouldn’t catch them making out against a wall or anything like that (there’s some decor he has to maintain as Kazekage unfortunately), but you’d definitely find them walking hand-in-hand or arm-in-arm around Suna. Also, if they’re sitting side-by-side at a table during a dinner-party or something like that, there would be the occasional touches: a short caress on the knee here, a forehead touch there, a quick peck on the lips…

At mornings, when they’re parting ways for the day, there has to be at least a hug and a kiss that may linger a bit too long for others’ comfort (*cough*, Shinki and Kankuro *cough*).

In private all of that doubles! Gaara is a cuddly toy through and through. Lazy Sunday mornings are spent in each other’s arms, exchanging cuddles and kisses.

Also, there’s no unspoken words of affection between Gaara and his SO. Gaara spent most of his childhood believing he was unloved and he knows how much that hurt so he vocalizes frequently how much he loves and appreciates them.

However, gift-giving is not a “love-language” I see Gaara partaking in so much. If he sees something that reminds him of his SO and it’s on his way he might buy it for them, but he’s a busy guy. I don’t see him going out of his way to buy extravagant gifts or anything like that.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

For timeline reasons, I’ll dabble into my fanfic here because I like to think their friendship would start before Naruto healed him through the power of friendship and headbutts.

I think an ideal SO for Gaara would be someone calm and warm, who always thinks the best of people unless they show them otherwise. At first Gaara would be annoyed by that, after all there’s no way someone could like and be kind to everyone. Hate was the default emotion Gaara associated with, so seeing them care for others so easily really pissed him off for some reason. And I don’t doubt he’d take out his frustration on his future SO, maybe even hurt them in some way. Still, they’d keep their cool and try not to engage and that would be enough to irritate and confuse him even further. He’d dabble a little into yandere tendencies here, unable to not watch their every interaction with other people and judge every little thing they did.

After his “recovery” I think Gaara would regret his actions and apologize, and his future SO would forgive them right away because I headcanon his SO as another sweet cinnamon roll. They’d be one of the first people to truly believe Gaara had changed and help him in his quest to become a better person.

I think their friendship would be really intimate. Gaara is someone who speaks his mind. But didn’t have anyone to actually talk to before, so I think he’d appreciate having the opportunity to confide his doubts and emotions in someone.

Also, the boy would be super eager to learn more about them too! It’s a whole new experience to him, this give-and-take in a conversation. Having someone else’s input in the happenings of his day and the workings of his mind and heart is absolutely refreshing and comforting in a way he didn’t know was possible. He absolutely lives for the times he can just talk with his future SO about anything that comes to mind.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

I think I covered this pretty well in Affection, but YES! BIG CUDDLY CINNAMON ROLL!

In bed likes to have his SO lay their head on his chest as he plays with their hair and plants many kisses on their forehead, cheeks and lips. Also, when sleeping he enjoys being both the big and the little spoon.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes he does! Gaara likes routine and stability so when he finds someone he loves he’ll want to settle down with very little hesitation.

And he’s? surprisingly good at housework?

Despite being the son of the Fourth Kazekage and not having to lift a finger around the house during his childhood and early teenage years, Gaara learned quickly how to cook and clean (especially cook).

After their father’s death and Gaara’s decision to improve as a person, I think the Sand Siblings would be hesitant to have people around the house all the time. It was a delicate time for them, and I think spending time just the three of them, healing their strained relationship, would be a priority. Maybe someone would come to clean the place and do the laundry once a week, but not for everyday chores. So it fell on the three of them to cook and keep the house tidy.

In the beginning, Temari and Kankuro would shoulder the work. Gaara didn’t know the first thing about housework.

Temari would be the one to approach Gaara and ask him to help around the house (Kankuro would still be uncomfortable around Gaara at first), and honestly? I think the boy would jump at the opportunity to help. More than a chore he saw it as a chance to rebuild his relationship with his siblings.

Ironically, he hates how easily sand built up around the house and had to be dusted off.

E = Ending (what would be a deal breaker for them? how would they do it?)

Gosh, this one is gonna be angsty!

I think it would take whole lot to push Gaara into breaking up with his SO. I mean if he found himself in a relationship in the first place it’s because he loves his SO, and is ready to go through thick and thin with them. This boy would take a lot of shit before giving up on someone.

I mean, he spent years trying to win over the people in Suna. Even when they tried to kill him, he did his best to earn their trust. Sure, he had a lot to make up for - seeing he was quite the murderer himself before - but still we need to give the boy some credit: he’s pretty good at forgiving and moving on.

So real talk here: I think he’d be the kind of person to try to overcome his SO’s major character flaws if they had any. (Disclaimer: I find it very hard to believe Gaara would choose a SO like that, but for the sake of this headcanon, let’s continue).

Bouts of aggression (verbal mostly, since his sand would keep him safe from physical harm)? He’d make excuses to other people for their behaviour if they were in public; in private he’d keep a level-head and want to talk things through afterwards and do couples’ therapy, see a psychiatrist… anything that could help.

Manipulative SO? He’d notice it eventually (he’s a sharp guy, and love makes you blind up to a certain point) and maybe even give hints he saw what they were doing, but honestly I think he might allow himself to be played just because he wants to make them happy. As long as it didn’t really harm anyone.

Cheating? I might get some backslash from this but again, I think he’d forgive his SO and take them back. Although there would be a long talk between them because Gaara would want to be absolutely sure they still wanted to be with him. Are you sure you still love me? Do you truly want to be with me and not them? If they said yes, I want to be with you Gaara would take them back and work through everything with them, even if it broke his heart a little every time he remembered what they did to him.

So WHEN? When would Gaara ever break up with his SO?

When they did something that endangered his family, friends and village. If his SO turned out to be some sort of double-agent to an evil organization or in bed with enemies from Suna he’d end things with them.

Their break up might be a few words spoken in a false tone of detached coldness in the battlefield, or maybe an emotion-charged moment in the outskirts of the village as he found them sneaking out…. Regardless of how things happened, knowing that everything they lived together was a lie, a carefully constructed façade by his SO, didn’t make it any less painful for him. He still loved them, but he wouldn’t allow them to hurt the people he cared about.

And he could never kill you himself, no matter how much you broke his heart with your betrayal.

#gaara #gaara x reader #gaara x you #sfw alphabet #headcanon #gosh this thing takes more time than i thought it would #but i actually liked it #it's fun #would you guys be interested in more?

115 notes · View notes

talesfromatabletop · 4 years

Text

RP Headcanons: DC Edition, pt 1

Batfam

Bruce cares, tries, and fails, but generally keeps trying for his kids.

Baby Terry McGinnis is the cutest thing ever and his dinosaur t-shirts reinforce this.

Slade Wilson - terrible person, great assassin, loving (if strict) parent.

Dick and Bruce fight constantly! Once Dick gets mad about something, everything makes him more angry until he and Bruce eventually resolve the first problem. It's sometimes big stuff... sometimes really petty shit.

Steph loves waffles. She will trade Tim for a 4-stack with chocolate chips.

Everybody wants to pair with Bruce on Gotham patrols. He gets the best fights and he brings snacks in the belt - it's a 50/50 if it's protein bars or trail mix, though.

Nobody wants to pair with Bruce on Gotham patrols. He won't let you make Social Media posts or stop for a hotdog at Rico's corner stand.

Jason and Dick actually fight a lot, still. Jason knows how to push Dick's buttons and he uses that as a self-defense tactic when he doesn't want to talk. ("Get Dick mad and he won't ask if I'm okay!")

Cass loved Steph before Steph loved Cass. Stephanie figured it out... eventually.

Lucius Fox only helps with the really weird shit because Bruce trades him Alfred's secret holiday recipes sometimes. Alfred's recipes are the true treasures of Earth.

Duke does his best not to get swept up in the weird, wild lives of his batsiblings tbh.

Tim doesn't babysit, he gets babysat.

Ace is the Good Boy™ but he will try and take Krypto down.

Titus is trained, we swear, but he's goofier than a ferret on drugs sometimes. 10/10 derp.

Sometimes Dami gives Batcow walks through the garden to help her relax.

Every Batfam member will stab the other for the last piece of Ma Kent's apple pie. Even Alfred.

Superfam

90s Kon and YJ Kon both deserve to exist. What better combo than the Insta-famous, outgoing showboat and the blunt, introverted buffbaby?

YJ Kon is way more of a "Conner" than 90s Kon. 90s Con is now "Carter."

Carter + Tim = Flashy Disaster Couple

Conner likes Wally's freckles.

Ma and Pa Kent accept any and all grandkids, time-travel or dimension-hopping be damned because "They're our boys, now, Clark, of course we want to see them!", and there are family trips to the farm.

Clark will bribe his friends and teammates with his mother's cooking. He can't bribe with his own, though, because he's terrible at it.

Jon would happily fly to Gotham for dinner before eating what his father burned made for them.

Krypto would probably go, too.

Clark doesn't know what to do with all of his sons but at least they aren't like his cousins.

"It's not about whether the boob window would look good or not, guys! It isn't happening!" is still something he's had to say before, though, and Clark's mildly ashamed of it.

With three superboys up to bat, the real issue is that none of them want to share the name. Jon had it first and that's fine with his brothers, really. Conner looks and feels like practically an adult, so he's meh about it. Carter wants something catchier to say. The result? Superboy, Kon and Rao.

Jor-El had a conniption when Carter named himself "Rao" as a hero. "You named yourself after OUR GOD?!? You disrespectful little-!"

Lex thought it was hilarious.

The boys are constantly in the background of Carter's posts and there's a few Insta vids of Lex trying and failing to hide that he's mildly amused by his son's shenanigans.

Flashfam

Barry is face-blind (has prosopagnosia). He can gradually memorize specific elements of a person's face ("Uh... Ollie's hair is like mine, right? So he's blond! And I know he has facial hair.") but has trouble associating them together unless he's had long periods of exposure to the person.

Wally is a nervous bundle of anxiety. All of the time.

Barry is practically incapable of looking on the dark side of things, and tends to believe the best of people - this extends to his villains.

Cisco is his bro, Caitlin is like the ditzy aunt, and Harrison is the exasperated father-figure that just wishes his kids didn't drink so much coffee.

Speaking of coffee - Barry doesn't drink it on the job. It makes him antsy.

Captain Boomerang - Digger, to his friends - is always on the edge of getting out of the game. Raising Owen ("Little Diggs") is a higher priority than his Rogues work. He waivers between retirement and always that "last" job that'll set him up to take care of his son.

Little Diggs is too pure for this world, and a fan of Flash even though he knows his father is a villain.

Wally isn't as forgiving with the Rogues as Barry is. This is especially true for Heatwave, Glider and Cold, since they've all double-crossed the Flash before.

Cold isn't fond of Kid Flash. Barry earns his respect and, in some ways, his admiration - this doesn't extend to Flash's smartassed sidekick.

Lisa and Mick are a surprisingly functional duo despite their dysfunctional dynamic. Lisa is generally in charge in their relationship, and Mick knows Len would ice him if he ever raised a hand to Lisa.

Len and Mick are best friends, despite the friction from their clashing personalities.

Lisa keeps pushing Len to either date or pick a favorite hooker - anything to get him laid and chilled out for once.

Len is practically addicted to puns. Not even just cold- or ice-related puns, either! He will make puns out of anything when given an opportunity, and genuinely is amused by them.

Arrowfam

Oliver is never in control of his daily life. He's barely in control of his personal choices most of the time.

Felicity runs it all - the team, the company, organizing his assignments from the League... everything other than doing the hard stuff herself.

Ollie really is a capable hero, but he doesn't believe it. He also doesn't particularly believe that the League needs or wants him there, but couldn't tell you why exactly they keep him, then, if questioned about it.

Roy has totally given up the flash and mystique of heroism tbh. Trucker hat? Check. Bow, arrows, and backup guns? Check. Flip-flops? All the better to chase people with. The slapslapslap of justice will strike terror in the hearts of muggers everywhere.

Oliver spoils Lian relentlessly.

Artemis is glad to avoid the weird shit that Roy and his clones get up to when Ollie isn't paying attention. She's never been more thankful that she isn't one of the adopted sidekicks.

Jim: Big, friendly, easily guilt-tripped, the pretty one.

Will: Mature, down-to-earth, does the guilt-tripping, the mom/dad friend.

Roy: Trash, amger!!!, can't be guilt-tripped but can be blackmailed, has no clue what he wants in life yet.

Lian will either murder you in your sleep or you are now a member of her family. There is no in-between.

No pets. Ever. They will get shot with an arrow by accident and nobody in the house is willing to deal with that emotional burden.

Oliver wants exactly 0 people in the "Arrowfam" but will kill you and/or himself over losing any member of his Arrowfam.

#dc comics #headcanon #dc headcanon #there is so much more #snippets with Azzy

27 notes · View notes

back-and-totheleft · 3 years

Text

“I’m not sure I’ve modified my thinking”

“It’s a strange place, England,” Oliver Stone informs me at the start of our Zoom call. “You’ve managed to make it worse than it was,” he says, speaking from his home in Los Angeles. “You’ve turned it into World War Two with your attitudes over there. The English love punishment, it’s part of their make-up.”

You sure know how to break the ice, Mr Stone. It’s a slightly galling accusation, given that he has hitched his wagon to Russia, hardly a paragon of enlightenment. The New York-born writer-director has never shied from ruffling feathers, though. Stone has taken on the American establishment to thrilling effect in his movies, from Platoon to Born on the Fourth of July, JFK to W, Salvador to Snowden, and still emerged with three Oscars. And he has admiringly interviewed a string of figures whose relations with Uncle Sam have rarely been cosy, including Fidel Castro, Hugo Chávez and Vladimir Putin. Those had more mixed receptions, as has his support for Julian Assange.

Yet at 74 he is still a thorn in the side of the military-industrial complex and is set to remain one for some time, having just had his second shot of Covid vaccine. This being Stone, he got his jab in Russia. A recent trial showed the Sputnik V vaccine he was given to have 92 per cent efficacy and he’s palpably delighted. Angry too, of course. “It’s strange how the US ignores that. It’s a strange bias they have against all things Russian,” he says. “I do believe it’s your best vaccine on the market, actually,” he adds, sounding weirdly Trump-like.

If his bullishness is still intact, Stone reveals a more vulnerable side in his recent memoir, Chasing the Light. The book, which he discusses in an online Q&A tonight, goes a long way to explaining his distrust of government, society and, well, pretty much everything. There are visceral accounts of him fighting in Vietnam, and fighting to get Salvador and Platoon made. “The war was lodged away in a compartment, and I made films about it,” he says. “Sometimes I have a dream that I’ve been drafted and sent back there.”

The crucial event in the book, though, is his parents’ divorce when he was 15. Stone realises now that his conservative Jewish-American father and glamorous French mother were ill-suited. Both had affairs. What really stung was the way he was told about their split: over the phone by a family friend while he was at boarding school. “It was very cold, very English,” he says. “I say English because everything about boarding school invokes the old England.” He’s really got it in for us today.

With no siblings, he says, “I had no family after that divorce. It was over. The three of us split up.” His world view stemmed from his parents being in denial about their incompatibility, he writes in the book: “Children like me are born out of that original lie. And nobody can ever be trusted again.”

That disillusionment took a few years to show itself. “All of a sudden, I just had a collapse,” Stone says. He had been admitted to Yale University but his father’s alma mater suddenly felt like part of the problem. He felt suicidal and sidestepped those thoughts by enlisting to fight in Vietnam, putting the choice of him dying into other hands.

The Stone in the book was described by one reviewer as his most sympathetic character. “It’s true probably because it’s a novel,” he says. Well, technically it’s an autobiography, but it’s a telling mistake. Fact and fiction can blur in his work, from the demonisation of Turks in Midnight Express (he wrote the screenplay) to the conspiracy theories in JFK.

Writing the book allowed him to put himself into the story, something he says he’s never been able to do in his films. He has tried. He wrote a screenplay, White Lies, in which a child of divorce repeats his parents’ mistakes, as Stone has. “I had two divorces in my life [from the Lebanese-born Najwa Sarkis and Elizabeth Burkit Cox, who worked as a “spiritual advisor” on his films] and I’m on my third marriage, which I’m very happy in.” He and Sun-jung Jung, who is from South Korea, have been together for more than 25 years. They have a grown-up daughter, Tara, and he has two sons, Sean and Michael, from his marriage to Cox.

White Lies is on ice for now. “It’s hard to get those kinds of things done,” Stone says wearily. Will he make another feature? It’s been documentaries recently, the last two on the Ukraine. “I don’t know. It’s a question of energy. In the old days, there would be a studio you’d have a relationship with, and they’d have to trust you to a certain degree. And that doesn’t exist any more.”

He thinks back to the big beasts of his early years. Alan Parker, who directed Midnight Express; John Daly, who produced Salvador and Platoon; Robert Bolt, who taught him about screenwriting. “Those three Englishmen had a lot to do with my successes,” he says. I think he feels bad about all the limey bashing. “John was a tough cockney, but I liked him a lot.” He liked him more than Parker, whom he describes as “cold” with a “serious chip on his shoulder.” He smiles. “Sure. Alan did a good job with Midnight Express, though.”

You wonder if Netflix could come to Stone’s rescue. They have given generous backing to big-name directors, from David Fincher to Martin Scorsese, Stone’s old tutor at NYU film school. Surely they would welcome him? “Well, that’s why you’re not in charge! Netflix is very engineering driven. Subject matter such as [White Lies] might register low on a demographic.”

Isn’t he also working on a JFK documentary, Destiny Betrayed? That could do better with the Netflix algorithms. “I’m having problems with that too. Americans were so concerned with Trump, I don’t know that they wanted to hear about some of the facts behind the Kennedy killing. They don’t recognise that there’s a connection between 1963 and now, that pretty much all the screws came loose when they did that in ’63.” He smiles. “I know you think I’m nuts.”

Well no, but you do wonder at his unwavering conviction that there was a conspiracy to murder Kennedy, probably involving the CIA. JFK is a big reason why a majority of Americans believe in a conspiracy and, according to Stone, led to the establishment of the Assassination Records Review Board, which he claims is “the only piece of legislation in this country that ever came out of a film.”

Yet several serious studies, including a 1,600-page book, Reclaiming History, by the former prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi, conclude that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. That book accused Stone of committing a “cultural crime” by distorting facts in JFK. “I feel like I’m in the dock with Bugliosi. I didn’t like his book at all,” Stone says. “Believe me, you cannot walk out of [his forthcoming documentary] and say Oswald did it alone. If you do, I think you’re on mushrooms.”

Stone knows whereof he speaks regarding psychedelics. On returning from Vietnam he was “a little bit radical” in his behaviour, he says: drugs, womanising, hellraising. He recently took LSD for the first time in years. “It was wonderful,” he says. He hallucinated that he was “moving from island to island on a little boat”.

What was radical in the Seventies can be problematic now. He has been accused of inappropriate behaviour by the model Carrie Stevens and the actresses Patricia Arquette and Melissa Gilbert. “As far as I know I never forced anyone to do anything they didn’t want to do,” he says. Has he modified the way he behaves around women? “Oh sure, no question.”

At the same time, he is disturbed by “the scolding going on, the shaming culture. I don’t agree with any of that. It’s like the Chinese Cultural Revolution. It scares the shit out of me. I do think the politically correct point of view will never be mine.”

He’s not a slavish follower of conspiracy theories — QAnon “sounds like nonsense”, he says, as was the theory that Donald Trump was “a Manchurian candidate for the Russians. That was a horrible thing to do and it hurt that presidency a lot. I’m not an admirer of Trump by any means, but he was picked on from day one.”

What does he make of Joe Biden? “I voted for him, not because I liked him, but as an alternative to Trump’s disasters. He’s got a far more merciful humanitarian side. But he also has a history of warmongering.” Fake news, he says, has “always happened”, in the east and west, on the left and the right. “I mean, back in the Cold War, the US was saying Russia was lying and Russia was saying the US was lying. Each one of these wars the US has been involved in was based on lies.”

It sounds as if Stone has been on the Russian Kool-Aid himself. He is making a documentary, A Bright Future, about climate change that advocates pursuing nuclear power in the short term, and has visited some Russian nuclear plants. They are “very state-of-the-art,” he says. “The US is not really pursuing the big plants, the way Russia and China are. I believe in renewables, but they’re not going to be able to handle the capacity when India and Africa and all these countries come online wanting electricity.”

Putin liked the interviews Stone did with him in 2017, he says. “I think they contributed to his election numbers.” Wasn’t he too easy on the Russian leader? “That’s what some say. But I got his ire up. I did ask him some tough questions about succession. ‘I think you should leave’ — that kind of stuff. The pressure that Russia is under from both England and the US is enormous,” he adds. “Unless you’re there I don’t know that you understand that. Because you take the English point of view, and they have been very anti-Soviet since 1920. You talk about fake news — I feel that way about MI5 and MI6.”

You can’t help but admire Stone’s conviction. If he’s modified his behaviour that’s probably a good thing, but as he says, “I’m not so sure I’ve modified my thinking. I express myself freely. I don’t want to feel muzzled.” Whatever you think of him, be grateful he hasn’t been.

-Ed Potton, “You talk about fake news. I feel that way about MI5 and MI6,” The Times of London, Feb 8 2021 [x]

#oliver stone #chasing the light #the times of london #ptsd #the vietnam war #russia #Trump #joe biden #politics #vaccine

2 notes · View notes

my-one-true-l · 4 years

Note

the wammy boys(besides beyond) turning evil for tragic reasons? I'd love you to try writing microfics of this! ^^

Hello Dear Anon! I am so sorry these took so long! I Hope you enjoy! 🖤

CW: guns, drugs, violence, murder, betrayal…it’s all in there.

L looked out the window at the snowflakes drifting heavily to the ground, coating everything in white. He kept the lights off to assure no glare would interrupt the only calm he was able to find.

The manilla envelope lay on the desk, mocking him with its contents sprawled across the cold, hard surface.

The words “Insufficient evidence” and “unreliable witnesses” stared up at him, as well as “suspects released” and “no arrests made”. But there were two words, ten simple letters that taunted him the most. “Case closed”.

The photos of the crime scene were like a dream he couldn’t quite remember, familiar yet distorted. They brought him right back to the day he convinced himself never happened, that it was nothing more than a memory of a child’s overactive imagination.

The once comforting click of dress shoes alerted him to Watari’s presence.

“L, why are you sitting in the dark?” Watari’s smile faded as his eyes landed on the envelope. “Where did that come from?”

“It doesn’t matter how I obtained it.” His voice, angry and hollow. “This entire time you knew who they were and you kept it from me.” His tones, biting and accusatorial towards the man he had grown to love like a father.

“You were just so young and when you were old enough…I didn’t want you to ever have to think about it again.” The older man stumbled over the words as they left his mouth.

L scowled at him. “It was all a lie. I trusted you. I trusted you and you betrayed me.”

“I didn’t betray you, my boy. I couldn’t tell you.”

“No, Watari. You chose not to tell me.” Turning his back to his once trusted guardian, L headed towards the door.

“Where are you going? L, please. I will tell you anything you want to know. Just stop. Please.”

L slowly turned to face him.“So now you decide I deserve the truth? This wasn’t a traditional lie adults tell children to manipulate their actions, Watari. You knew who killed my parents. You knew and didn’t tell me. All this time…I could have found a way…”

“You can find a way to catch them now. I will help you. Every resource I have will be at your disposal.” Watari pleaded.

“My resources are already at my disposal. I’ve already located them and rectified the situation. They will never see the sun rise again.” The shadows under his eyes became a physical manifestation for the darkness that had attached itself to him.

“L, just promise me you will come back once you’ve made peace with this.”

“Heh, You will never see me again, Watari. I’ve already erased myself from the system. Attach yourself to one of my ‘successors’. I can’t trust my identity to you anymore. L is dead, as is Coil and Deneuve.”

“But you are L.”

“No, I am Justice.”

Near

“Nathan River released from prison on a technicality.”

Near raises the remote and aims it at the screen. With a simple push of a button, he eliminates the image. He doesn’t need to rewind it. He doesn’t need to ever see it again. Every bit of it was burned into his mind.

The coverage was all over the news, although all he needed was a tip from Gevanni that it had happened.

Near, a living apparition in grey and white tones, was now painted in black.

“Rester?” Near summoned his handler. “Initiate the procedures I had you put into place in the event this day ever came.” His words, calm and focused as always, were now laden with a cold-bloodedness that neither man had ever witnessed before.

“Near…are you sure?” Gevanni cautiously questioned him.

“Yes.”

Rester left and returned momentarily with a small treasure chest. It looked like nothing more than a child’s toy, a prop used when playing pirate.

But it was much more than that.

Rester hands it to Near.

“The key please.” Without looking up from the locked box, Near holds up a hand and waits expectantly for his request to be fulfilled.

It was Gevanni’s turn to leave and return with the required object, dropping it into the young man’s hand.

Without hesitation, he unlocks the chest and removes a small piece of paper and a pen. It all looked so harmless unless you knew what it was.

“Near, are you absolutely certain? You cannot undo it once you write his name.”

“Yes, I’m certain.” Near scratches his father’s name onto the small and unassuming piece of paper. “Just like he couldn’t undo killing my mother.”

Mello

“How did you get in here?” Roger Ruvie demanded into the atmosphere of his office.

Mello turned in Roger’s desk chair to face the old man. In his hand he gripped a file marked “Mihael Keehl”, a name that felt like it belonged to someone else, someone that never existed.

“You bastard!” Mello exploded at him as he slammed the file down on Roger’s desk.

“Mello, the records at Wammy’s House are not for-“

“I don’t give a shit who or what they’re for. Did you do it just to keep me here? For me to be competition for Near?”

“What are you going on about?”

“My parents are alive, you fuck. Alive.” Mello pounded both fists angrily on top of his file. “And it says here that they wanted me back, but you wouldn’t release me to them.”

“Mello, you have to understand, when a child is surrendered to Wammy’s, they are legally our responsibility until they’re 18.”

“Don’t give me this shit. You let me leave at 14! Why? Why didn’t you let me go back home?”

“Because they were unfit. Always in trouble. The entire reason you ended up here was because they were put in jail. You were rebellious enough without their influence. I thought I was protecting you.”

“Were you also protecting me from the money that you were getting from the “pretend” cases you had me and Near working on?”

“That money is used for the orphanage.”He was quick with his explanations and it was push Mello to his limits.

“Well, Roger, while you were busy running an orphanage and concerning yourself with my well-being, I could have been with my family instead of ending up like this.” Mello dragged a leather-gloved hand down his scar. “and now to make up for it, you’re going to tell me where they are.”

“I can’t do that. You willingly left Wammy’s. We are under no obligation to disclose anything to you.”

“Ok, have it your way.”

Mello got up and headed towards the door, but to Roger’s surprise, he shut and locked the them inside the room. Mello slowly stalked towards him.

“What are you doing?” Roger backed away from Mello until he was against the office wall.

Mello reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his 9mm and wrapped a finger around the trigger. “The information.”

“It-it’s over in th-that cabinet,” Roger stammered, suddenly terrified of the young man as he should have been all along.

Mello shot the lock off the cabinet causing Roger to flinch at the clang of metal on metal. Within minutes, he had the file he need.

“Thank you Roger, now let me repay your kindness.”

With an unwavering conviction, Mello aimed at Roger and pulled the trigger.

Matt

“Stupid fuck.” It was an understatement of gigantic proportions, but Matt had no other words for him. He crushed the cigarette butt into the dashboard as he stared out the window at the rundown apartment building. It looked like where he imagined he would have grown up if he had not ended up at Wammy’s.

He had been staking the place out for hours now, but never getting a glimpse of his target. Matt knew he wasn’t giving him a second thought, just like he didn’t when he was small. After all, he wasn’t Matt’s father. Why would he have ever given a shit about what would have happened to him? He was just an annoyance to be ignored.

Matt understood this. He could even forgive this to some extent. He learned a long time ago nothing was owed to anyone and there was no such thing as a guarantee.

But what he couldn’t forgive is that this bastard watched as his mother overdosed, too concerned with himself to get the help she needed. He wasn’t just high. He supplied her with all the heroine she could ever want as long as she let him hide his product in her crappy little apartment and lie for him if the cops ever came around.

None of it mattered. When they found her, needle still hanging from the flesh just below the bend of her arm, they searched from top to bottom and found everything he was hiding there, the only thing in that apartment he ever cared about. He was charged with possession of a narcotic with intent to distribute and involuntary manslaughter.

He had let her die for nothing. The value the jury put on her life? A mere 14 years without parole.

Now Matt was less than 50 yards from him.

He didn’t care that he served his time. He didn’t care that he had paid for her death. There was no price that was high enough.

Except for one.

Matt reached into the glove box and pulled out the Glock 19 he had hidden there. He checked the clip one last time before stepping into the streets. With a determination never before known to him, he approached the apartment. Wrapping his knuckles hard against the door, he raised the gun to chest level as he heard the doorknob turn…

#Death Note #L Lawliet #Nate River #Mihael Keehl #Mail Jeevas #L #Near #Mello #Matt #DN #Ask #Answered #Anonymous #death note headcanons

43 notes · View notes

expshared · 4 years

Text

this season was kind of whack, but at least we had Eizouken

Heya Camp is just kind of a lazy reminder that Yuru Camp exists, and will continue to exist in the future. You remember these characters?? OK good, just making sure. That said, did I immediately feel the tension release in my entire body when I heard the OST? Duh. Did I sing “it’s coffee time” to the ending not knowing these were the incorrect lyrics? The entire time.

I don’t know what to do with Isekai Quartet because like, objectively, I should hate it. I do not enjoy like 2.5 of the shows involved, and the addition of Shield Hero was not a welcome one. Turns out it doesn’t matter anyway because it was just Isekai Quartet and also Naofumi is Sometimes Scowling in the Background and that’s about as much of him as I want to see anyway. And yet? I do enjoy this Disney Channel Original Crossover. There’s something inherently fun about watching these characters from disparate shows interact with each other, and no matter what the original stakes were in their respective series, they’re all just doing homework and getting part time jobs and that shit’s funny when a big skeleton man is doing it.

After its first episode, Asteroid in Love was kind of a slog. This is your typical seasonal CGDGT show, and apart from that, I really can’t think of anything to say about it. I didn’t learn anything about the Extremely Niche Topic these girls are doing, and it wasn’t even that gay. Disappointing.

I was really looking forward to Toilet Bound Hanako-kun because I am a big fan of the source material, but I was pretty let down by this adaptation. It seems that they prioritized the art style and the color scheme above everything else, but that essentially just meant the entire project ended up being colored manga panels. I wanted to see them move around! There was not a single moment of animation that justified it being an anime. You might as well have been watching a PowerPoint. I can’t think of anything nice to say. Let’s move on.

Bofuri is my power fantasy. I want to play a video game so cluelessly I break it into tiny pieces and bumble into being the most powerful player in the world’s nicest MMORPG. Maple turns powercreep into powersprint. What Bofuri lacks in character development or plot, it makes up for in outrageous Maple feats. She holds the entire world in the palm of her hand and she doesn’t even know it. She named her OP pet turtle Syrup and then turned into an alien abomination unknown to the world and went on a killing rampage. This anime was Maple Crossing Online. Love you, Maple. Wreck shit, Maple.

If My Favorite Idol Got Into Budokan, I Would Die walks a thin line and what separates it from being a slobbering idol otaku engine preaching how Cool it is to Be an Otaku and an Idol Show Watamote is the fact that Eripiyo is a girl. That’s it. If you took her and replaced her with your average Joe Schmoe-san, this show would be insufferably creepy. Every time I was waiting for it to topple over, Jenga-like, it managed to right itself and straddle the tightrope. It’s not a particularly subtle piece of media, nor does it do what I was hoping it would do and engage in any sort of conversation about the obsessive nature of idol otakudom, but you know what it does a good job of doing? Portraying being an idol as a job. Just some adults putting on underground shows and selling the same CD of like two songs over and over again. I was also hoping it would address what happened to Eripiyo, maybe talk about why at the beginning she’s dressed like an office worker and apparently gives that all up to follow this kinda-shitty idol group, why this fanatic escapism is preferable, or even maybe address how gay it is? Not in the cards, though. Honestly Budokan was, despite itself, pretty enjoyable? There are some great background lesbians. Also can we talk about how consistently good the production values were on this show? Why did this have such great dance sequences? Why did this look better than Love “Has More Money Than God” Live? Actually no I take everything back this show was kind of just Idol Otaku Watamote

Hey, let’s talk about the other idol show airing this season: the completely unhinged 22/7. This show is Whack. This show operates on an entire different plane of reality. I know nothing about the actual band, so I came into this blind and oh my god. Hey guys, the plot of 22/7 is that a Wall tells some girls to form an idol unit. A sentient Wall whose orders absolutely must be followed. Why? Dunno! What happens if you don’t follow its orders? Never elaborated on. (Actually, is this a reference to Pink Floyd? I have no fucking clue.) In any case these eight girls, summoned by a letter from the Wall, are all invited to become an idol group, and then they’re magically an idol group. It’s unclear how they become successful, how they book gigs, who’s keeping the lights on at the agency, how they’re getting paid, who HR is, how their gorilla man agent found this Wall and determined that all its directives Must Be Followed, but shit, man. What follows in 22/7 is a one-member-per-episode serial that quite frankly stumbles far more often than it succeeds. One girl’s grandma died and that’s why she came to Japan. One girl had a traumatizing experience where she got lost in the woods for a week and it broke her family apart and now things just suck forever. These things are equal. One poor girl’s entire episode was about how she didn’t want to put on a bathing suit for a photo shoot and how uncomfortable she felt about it, but in the end she was made to apologize for dragging her feet for so long and takes her photo for a pin up. Yuck. Gross. Bad. The only valid girl is Jun, end of discussion. None of this even holds a candle to the finale-- wherein the girls are directed by the Wall to disband, and, defying an order for the first time, the girls return to their agency and throw shit at the Wall until it breaks down. It’s revealed that the Wall isn’t supernatural-- behind it are tv monitors, photos of the girls as children, records of their activities. A person or people are behind this. Why??? Are they being groomed?? Is the Wall a metaphor for the Industry? I’m so concerned. The girls aren’t, though, because after a little side eyeing, they ascend a staircase and wow! A Stage! Our fans are all here for our reunion tour! And then they’re fine and I guess their idol group is back together or something? Did I mention the stage where they perform? It’s at a zoo. I can’t tell if this is the most scathing condemnation of idol culture I’ve ever watched or just completely oblivious. The characters don’t engage in any sort of thought about what they’re being put through, but they are performing their final song, the lyrics of which are about how life is just too hard to keep on living, at a zoo and I don’t think you can have that sort of thing happen unless you’re trying to make a point. Right??? RIGHT?!? Dance and sing, monkeys.

Smile Down the Runway was another show completely divorced from reality. So you got your main character, Chiyuki, whose thing is that she’s Too Short to Be a Model at her father’s very prestigious modeling agency. Which, like, is valid! Let’s see some variation in the modeling industry. Let’s shake it up. Let’s lead the charge for alternative models with bodies outside of the very narrow requirements of the fashion industry. What’s that, Chiyuki? You have no interest in that? You want to be a Hypermodel? I don’t know what that shit is, I think you made it up. Our other protagonist is Ikuto, the destitute, put upon, bobcut boy with a dying mother and 3 younger siblings who is trying to pursue his dream of becoming a fashion designer. Are you beginning to sense the problem here? There is a fundamental imbalance in the presentation of these characters’ goals and situations. Also? Emotions are at an eleven, always. Characters are always acting as if they’ve just seen someone get murdered in front of their eyes even when it’s like. There’s a messed up seam. They are constantly being mortified, crushed, and having their dreams ripped away. One time, two different assholes offered Ikuto magical mom-fixing blood money when he was struggling to come up with funds to pay off his medical debt at the cost of giving up his spot in the fashion show. Wildin’

Haikyuu didn’t exactly come in like a lion, but I’m sure it’ll be more organic upon rewatching. We were laying the groundwork for much of this season so I’m expecting it to payoff later, but the beginning definitely lagged. Every time Haikyuu hints at a women’s volleyball tournament, I want a volleyball anime with girls. Man, those ten minutes we got with Kiyoko? Those were great.

I don’t have too much to say about Somali and Forest Spirit. Abe’s “Make Children” agenda feels at least a little more like a narrative choice in this anime, and I enjoyed Somali and the Golem’s relationship and their travels were in equal turns harrowing and heartwarming. And I did tear up at the end so you got me there, anime.

In/Spectre has some balls being an anime. It’s existed as a light novel and a manga and those are both superior mediums for it because let’s put all our cards on the table here-- In/Spectre is a show about talking. Five whole entire episodes take place in a car. The finale is winning an argument in an anonymous 4chan chatroom. That said, I have such a fondness for In/Spectre. I think Kotoko rocks. I think a show willing to do nothing but talk at you for two hours is badass. Sitting through this anime is like watching a podcast. I think the show engages in some great dialogue about human nature and how we prefer stories that are theatrical, narratively-driven, and have a logical cause-and-effect, instead of the truth, which is more often than not grim, and disappointing, and illogical. I like that Kotoko’s only function, in-story and out of it, is to bullshit so hard she invents alternate realities. Anyway In/Spectre is good.

There’s no praise I can lavish on Eizouken that hasn’t already been said. It’s powerful, it’s strange, it’s energetic, and it’s packaged with such love. It’s repurposed the CGDCT template into something deeply affecting. It’s an anime for people who love animation. I hope everyone watches Eizouken.

#animoose and mango #chitchat paddywhack #long post /

10 notes · View notes

niiwa-angel · 5 years

Text

Late At Night

// Authors Note. mentions of child abuse, bed wetting, and hospitalization, if this offends you this story isn’t for you. also I’m not law major nor a doctor so take any medical or legal things in here with a grain of salt. This story also has a same sex couple, if this is going to make you scream at me, kindly piss off. requests and feed back are always welcome.//

The house was quiet, the street outside ethereally silent except for the distant sounds of the busy city still wide awake despite the hour, somewhere between very late or very early and entirely dependent on who was asked. A lone car driving on the empty suburban street broke the silence as the driver slowly took the curve, watching for any neighborhood pets that may be patrolling the area. While the outside was quiet, the inside of the car certainly wasn’t, as the driver’s music was turned up to fifteen while Queens “We Will Rock You” blasted from the speakers of the small car. Hal Jordan mouthed along to the lyrics of his favorite song, removing a hand from the wheel to massage his left eye as he slowly backed into his driveway, shutting the music off before opening the door. “The last thing I want is to wake the neighborhood.” He muttered to himself, pulling his military bag out from its place in the backseat. He knew that Ms. Earwood across the street would lecture him for hours if he were to let the sound of his music escape the confines of the car, her white hair pulled into a severe bun and her hobbled gait always reminded Hal of the old lady who always protected tweedy bird in looney tunes, is that woman was a busy body who found his “lifestyle” a detriment to society as a whole. Hal flung his bag over his shoulder while he fumbled with his keys, finally finding the one that opened the front door and pushing his way into the dark entryway, careful not to trip on the shoes littering the floor.

“I thought I told Wally to keep his shoes in the closet.” he whispered to himself with a quiet chuckle as he set his bag on the floor near the door. ‘I’ll fix that at a decent hour, right now I need food, a shower and my bed!’ he thought, making his way to the kitchen. There wasn’t much in the fridge, which wasn’t much of a surprise with two speedsters with accelerated metabolism living in the house and one of them was only eight, so he was always hungry. ‘And a real pain to keep up with.’ He mused, remembering how many times he almost lost his adopted nephew at various public locations, but he managed to find a bowl of pasta, which he tossed in the microwave and grabbed a glass of water to wait for the food to be warm. As an afterthought, he decided to check on the sleeping patrons in the house, heading to the master bedroom first, pushing the door forward a little to peek in at the disheveled mess of blond hair on the pillow before moving to the red door down the hall. Hal made sure to step lightly near his nephews room, Wally was a very light sleeper, an unfortunate left over from his time in his parents care. Hal didn’t know entirely what went down in that house only that his husband had gotten a call from his sister, Iris, that Wally was in the hospital and the doctors needed his closest relatives there.

//Flash Back//

He had thrown together an overnight bag for himself and Barry before driving the hour long trip to the hospital in Kansas City from Central in about 45 minutes, probably breaking every traffic law in the state to get to the little boy that meant to such to both men. Hal had been expecting a car accident, or a random kitchen disaster that had put the whole family in the hospital, instead they saw little Wally, dwarfed by the large hospital bed, in a medically induced coma to try and reduce the swelling in his brain from a blow to the head from his own father. It had been a hard day until the doctors brought Wally out of the coma, and then Barry and Iris had to have a serious discussion about who would take care of Wally, as no one was letting their sweet, kind hearted nephew go into the harsh treatment that is the American Foster Care system, Iris stressed that because of her job, she would be an unreliable guardian, so it was Barry and Hal who had adopted Wally into their home. Currently, Rudolf West was serving a fifteen year battery and assault charge as well as a twenty year attempted murder, which their lawyer had gotten tacked on and was able to convince the jury of, their lawyer was an anonymous gift from a not so local bat, as well as making sure that Hal and Barry won the custody case.

It had taken months to get Wally to adjust to their home, random things seemed to set him off into a panic, he wouldn’t eat unless given expressed permission even if the food was placed right in front of him, and any time either Hal or Barry raised their voices even just in a joking conversation the boy would start to get twitchy. After speaking to a specialist, they learned that these were likely knee jerk reactions that had probably once been the difference between getting hit and being safe, and given that those were his only tools he knew how to use, he was still using them, so Hal and Barry had to learn to look a little closer to see what spooked their nephew. For Barry, it was easier, he looked closely at things for a living, and soon recognized that Wally reacted to hand expressions, raised voices and the garage door opening and had started to work on reconditioning these things from bad to good.

Hal on the other hand, had some difficulty, it had often seemed like Wally had liked Barry better then him. It wasn’t until he noticed that there were some similarities between them that to an adult might not seem like much, but to a child were crucial. Hal liked to have a beer when he came home, Wally’s dad had often been drinking before or during a beating, Hal hooked his right thumb in his belt as his comfortable standing position, Wally’s dad stood like that before using his belt as a weapon, Hal raised his hands when he was passionate about what he was talking about, Wally’s dad raised his hands to do harm. It had taken a lot of time and patience before Wally had even spoken above a whisper to his uncles. The first time Wally asked to be held had been eight and a half months into living with them and Hal had let Wally see his tears, let him see how it wasn’t shameful to show emotions, and had sat with Wally in his arms for a solid hour, just holding him to his chest, tucked firmly under his chin.

//Back to Present//

The nest of red hair mixed well with the bright red of the room, Hal could see that Wally was curled onto his side, facing away from the door and knew that his nephew likely had his batman plushy tucked into his arm. With a soft smile, Hal closed the door and went back downstairs to eat his pasta. Fifteen minutes later, Hal made his way up the stairs and was about to push his way into the master bedroom when he saw a light coming from down the hall. Slowly making his way to the door from which it was coming from, Hal could make out soft sobs from behind it, knocking gently, he heard a scared gasp and a quiet “yes.” Hal slowly opened the door to see Wally sitting up, tears streaming down his face and his bedside lamp turned on, making his way over to the young boy’s bed. “Hey Hot-Rod.” He whispered, taking a seat on the edge of the foot of the bed. Wally bit his lip. “Hey Uncle Hal. I uh, I didn’t know you were home.” “I wasn’t till about half an hour ago.” “Oh.” Wally mused, looking down at his hands. Hal knew that look, it was the “I’m really uncomfortable and would like you to either skip to the point or leave me alone” face. Deciding on the primary, Hal bit the bullet. “Why are you awake Hot-Rod?” he asked, making sure to look authoritative but not intimidating. Wally squirmed a little and the muttered. “I, I had a bad dream.” “What about?’ Hal asked, despite having a pretty good idea what about. “About dad, he was yelling,” Wally sobbed, hiccuping slightly, “He was saying I was a, a mis- mistake. And that no one would ever want me, and that I’m a bad kid!”

Hal inhaled deeply, he wanted to rant, to tell his kid that his father was a piece of shit alcoholic whose brain was too destroyed by his own habits to have an intelligent thought. But that wouldn’t help Wally, so instead he put his hand on his boy’s shoulder, ensuring he had his full attention. “Listen to me Wallace West, you are not unwanted. You’re Uncle Barry and I love you so, so much. It would break our hearts if we ever lost you. And you may make mistakes from time to time, but that does not make you a bad kid, everyone makes mistakes, very few of them make people unlovable.” Hal really wished that this conversation were happening at a better hour because his brain was basically pudding, but the message seemed to get through to Wally because the kid nodded.

“Anything else on your mind squirt? Anything you need off your chest?” Hal pushed, and instantly Wally went pale and started to stammer.

“Promise you won’t be mad?” he asked, knowing on his lip again.

“I promise kiddo.” Wally seemed to relax a little and took a little breath.

“I, I wet the bed. I’m really sorry Uncle Hal, it was an accident, I won’t do it again, I pro-“ Hal raised a hand to cut off Wally’s rambling.

“It’s alright love, it was an accident, it happens to everyone at some point. Let’s get you cleaned up okay?” Wally nodded, and Hal slipped his hands under Wally’s arms, hoisting him up onto his hip, before grabbing a fresh pair of pajamas from his drawers. Hal took Wally to the bathroom and drew him a small bath, just around three inches of warm water.

“Okay kid, if you get yourself cleaned up, I’ll get your sheets in the washer and they should be okay for tomorrow, Okay?” Hal asked, receiving a small nod from the young redhead.

Hal quickly stripped the bed, throwing everything into the washing machine and setting a timer for it before returning to the bathroom. He knocked to announce himself, and slowly stepped in. Wally was wrapped in a fluffy towel on the floor, eyes half shut and his head drooping, Hal laughed and went over to support him

. “Hey Hot-Rod. Let’s just get you into some PJ’s and then you can sleep in okay?” He got a small nod in return, and helped dry the child off and step into some warm Flash pajamas. Scooping Wally up, he carried him to the master bedroom, which dismayed Wally a bit.

“But my room is over there.” He slurred, his arm moving lazily to point to his door. Hal smiled and rubbed his back. “I know kiddo, but it’s late and I really don’t want to have to make a bed, so I was thinking we could just have a sleep over. Alright?” Hal didn’t get a verbal response, just Wally curling closer to him, which he took as a yes. Hal turned to use his back to push open the bedroom door, quietly walking to the bed and drawing the covers back and placing Wally against Barry, before tucking both of them in and turning to the on suite bathroom. “Where are you going?” Wally rasped from his place in the bed, big green eyes peeking out from the pearly comforter. “I just gotta shower and change Hot-Rod, then I’ll be right there.” Wally nodded and laid his head down, while Hal went to take a shower.

//Ten minutes Later//

Hal exited the bathroom while shaking out his damp hair, he had changed from his civvies into a pair of boxer shorts. Looking into his bed he almost laughed out loud at the sight of Wally, curled into Barry’s arms, while Barry had a protective hand on the back of Wally’s head. Hal carefully slipped into the covers just as Barry opened his eyes. “Hey.” “Hey yourself.” Hal whispered. “There’s a Wally I our bed.” Barry teased, bringing the hand that wasn’t on Wally’s head over the boy to latch onto Hal’s. “There is a Wally in out bed.” Hal agreed, pulling his lover and their kid closer to him, tucking Wally beneath his chin, and touching his forehead with Barry’s. “Is he okay?” Barry whispered, his breath teasing the red locks of hair in front of him. “He will be Love, it’ll take some time, but he’ll be okay.” Hal pressed a kiss to the top of Wally’s head and pressed another to Barry’s forehead, wrapping his arms around them and hugging them tight, falling asleep to the sound of the Scarlet Speedster and his young nephews breathing. The entire family slept on.

#Wally West #Barry Allen #Hal Jordan #child abuse #HalBarry Family #Fluff #Angst #Cuddles

145 notes · View notes

in-tua-deep · 5 years

Note

Does Reginald ever get ahold of Five in your Responsible Luther AU? And how does he plan to stop Five from causing the apocalypse once he does? I just really want to see a scene where the siblings team up to save their little brother and stop their father once and for all (and possibly the commission by extension).

good question!! i haven’t decided lmao but I mean probably?? Reggie has four years to try and get at Five after all and Hazel and Cha-Cha are professionals (though at some point Hazel defects and is probably adopted as the weird murder uncle who on at least one occasion babysits bodyguards Five while the sibs are off doing stuff - Agnes things he’s a sweet young man while Hazel has vivid flashbacks of the time Five consumed a boatload of sugar and made his powers go on the fritz right before a kidnapping attempt which was,, not pretty to say the least and Hazel is somewhat traumatized)

awful bold of anyone to assume i actually have this au mapped out when it’s literally a bunch of asks duct taped together whenever inspiration hits my fragile muse with a sledgehammer and tbh just typing my way through asks helps me figure out things like later on in this ask lmao

While the most intelligent thing for Reginald to do is hire Hazel and Cha-Cha to assassinate Five, this is also the man whose grand plan to stop the apocalypse was a task force of superpowered children that he abused so i’m not assigning him any brain cells at all BUT he does think that he’s all powerful with his plots and tends to assume everything is going to go according to his plans and overestimates his own intelligence so

he thinks he can contain Five which probably would involve using the same drugs (or a modified one because idk if it would affect all the kids the same) that he used on Vanya since that’s a more long term solution that just restraints after all and then?? probably a lot of mind games and messing with Five’s reality to try and make sure that Five is not going to be ending the world

of course, given the chance Five would probably point out that his power is jumping and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t know how to end the world with that power?? unless he like? managed to jump himself into some place he could use,,, idk,,, nuclear launch codes or something?

though now that I think about it, it’s entirely possible that Reginald isn’t the one who wants Five alive. It’s entirely possible that it’s the Handler who smiled with too many teeth as she told Reginald that Five was the catalyst for ending the world. After all she’s with the Commission who help the timeline. Of course they don’t want the apocalypse to happen. Why, then there would be no people to help! But if Reginald handed Five over to her, over to the Commission - well. He’s young, he’s already half-trained, he knows how to survive, and he has the ability to jump through time without a suitcase which is very interesting to the Commission.

and Reginald doesn’t really want to kill anyone and get his own hands dirty otherwise he would have disposed of Vanya years ago so he’s down to grab Five and do some gentle experimentation regarding drugs and then hand a Five (with an off switch) over to the Commission and save the world! yeah that makes sense to me we’re going with that because it also gives the Handler a dog in this race so we get to see her

honestly probably the culmination of everything is Five getting finally Officially Kidnapped and handed over to the Commission and finding out at the Commission about the apocalypse, the Commission’s role in it, and probably the Handler monologues about it not being the end of everything and Five getting in the way but with him removed the family will fall apart and Vanya causing the apocalypse will be back on track blah blah blah all they have to do is pull some strings, get Harold Jenkins released from prison right on time, and bam we’re back on schedule ladies and gents

(plus some general weirdness a la the handler plus a deeply uncomfortable and not-inclined-to-be-very-cooperative Five who might not have his powers but he doesn’t exactly need them to be dangerous thank-you-very-much)

and the squad 100% run down weird-sort-of-honorary-uncle Hazel who is in possession of one (1) suitcase that is capable of taking the whole squad on over to the Commission building with a sort of reluctant Hazel because Agnes is attached to the kid now (Agnes is the best honorary aunt and you can’t change my mind) so he guesses he has to help out

someone send me an ask about weird uncle Hazel and aunt Agnes that is 100% an avenue I need to explore at some point

but yeah team up to invade the Commission and wreak absolute havoc and Five probably ends up worming his way into some air ducts because he’s a skinny little thirteen year old with narrow shoulders and then no one has eyes on him including the Handler/Commission agents so just picture a really comical series where the squad are trying to find Five and keep only just missing him while Five isn’t really sure why all the alarms are going off but he’s trying to figure out more info about the apocalypse as well as figure out a way to get home (find the suitcase room??) while also having a panic attack at the same time!! fun times!

eventually what probably happens is they catch the Handler and try interrogate her and she’s giving them non answers and then Five literally falls out of the ceiling with like, a whole bag of files that just scatter around and everyone just stares at each other for a solid minute before Five is pulled into a frantic “YOU’RE ALIVE” hug by the closest person who isn’t Hazel

but Five ALSO has a whole bunch of explosives and weapons that he may or may not have obtained from the Handler’s office because he’s a secretly petty little shit and he’s been using them to take out Commission agents along his way but the point is the whole squad blow the Commission sky high?? or perhaps Five discovers another aspect of his power

after all, the Commission sits outside of time. It’s a pocket, and Five is capable of tearing through space and time, but most importantly he closes that tear after him. It’s not an aspect of his power that he thinks about often, in fact no one thinks about it. He doesn’t just make tears, he also repairs them. And what is this pocket but an open wound in time, sitting outside the time stream as it is? The Commission is not supposed to be and Five has the power to fix that

(he’s been on edge since he arrived, a crawling feeling under his skin. he assumed that it was because of the kidnapping, because the Handler kept touching him and making comments, because he just saw his father who scares him more than even the apocalypse, because his power is out of reach and reminding him of when he pushed and pushed amongst the rubble and there’s an itch under his skin from the drugs. there’s a million reasons for him to feel off that he doesn’t realize that it’s the wrongness of where he is, the rip carved into the world that begs for him to close it, to heal it)

so i think that might be a cool climax, destroying the Commission and then making sure it can never return ??

Vanya would absolutely fuck up the entire commission first though looking for Five it would be hilarious and mildly terrifying and Klaus is just behind her like “yeah i’m going to say training her powers was a good thing otherwise we (the other hargreeves plus Hazel) would probably be paste right now” while Ben frantically zips through the walls trying to find Five while the other losers are limited by walls (of course, Ben probably doesn’t think to zoom up in the vents whoops)

and then, when they go back with the one remaining briefcase (that they probably all destroy as the last remnants of the commission idk) they get a confrontation with Reginald

because I really liked Klaus’s whole thing with Reginald (“We were just little kids.”) and feel like the rest of the family?? probably needs that closure as well tbh

and i mean,, also the general spite of them informing Reginald (with proof a la the documents Five obtained) that it was Reginald’s fault the apocalypse happened in the first place due to his abuse and drugging of Vanya which caused her to have no support network and be influenced by Leonard Peabody/Harold Jenkins and that lmao Five was never the reason the world ended and in fact there was a lot riding on removing him from the equation so that it could happen in the first place

the satisfaction of telling the man behind the curtain, the man who thinks he holds all the cards, the man who thinks he’s the puppeteer, that he was played like that’s satisfying

(Reginald, verbally eviscerated and pale as milk in the face of the kids accusations and revelations

Five: hey so like if we’re all saying our piece then uhhh I want mom in the divorce. the disowning? whatever this is

Diego: seconded

Five: and also dad?? i never want to see you again

Luther: also seconded

Five: also i want us to be able to get our stuff like luther’s records ‘n stuff

Vanya: you know what let’s just put Five in charge of the official family split seems like he’s got all the right stuff in mind)

but yeah this is all vague story climax stuff that I haven’t gotten anything down in concrete yet?? i should probably put together a timeline since it seems like i’m eventually going to be actually writing this au and probably making a whole ‘verse to do little side stories for as well goodness

so yeah keep the questions and suggestions coming y’all i’m slow at responding but they do very much help me figure things out and since nothing is concrete by any means i’m always open to suggestions on what people do and don’t like about any directions I take or suggestions on how to make it better/make more sense ;3c

#responsible luther au #far tua long #i'll add tags later #i'm very tired rip #which makes no sense bc i napped most of the day with the foster cat oof #ask me #anonymous

155 notes · View notes

cromulentbookreview · 4 years

Text

Werewolves of Florida

I saw a werewolf with a parrilla menu in his hand /

Walking through the streets of Miami in the rain /

He was looking for a place called Novecento /

Gonna get a big dish of entraña /

Aaoooooo /

Werewolves of Florida /

Aaoooooo /

Sorry.

(I’m not sorry. Aaooooooo!)

And by that, I mean: Lobizona by Romina Garber!

Well, if you’d expect werewolves to show up in America, where else but Florida?

Ha. Florida. The butt of so many jokes. It’s easy to make fun of Florida (fun, too!), so as a lifelong resident of the Pacific Northwest...I’m going to continue making fun of Florida, a state I’ve never been to and will likely never visit as I have no intention of being eaten by a gator or a python or a python gator or whatever insane creatures live down there.

I kid, I’m sure there are places in Florida that are perfectly lovely. They just happen to coexist with the insanity that is the rest of Florida.

Anyway! Werewolves in Florida! It sounds possible. Seriously, could you imagine the headlines? “Florida werewolf brings drugs to a drug bust, gets himself busted”? “Florida werewolf charged with assault with deadly weapon after throwing alligator through Wendy’s drive-thru window”?

In this case, however, there aren’t just werewolves in Florida, but Brujas as well! Both sound like people you would find in Florida. “Florida Bruja drops pants, licks man, dances naked in Waffle House parking lot”?

Where was I? Oh. Yes. Lobizona by Romina Garber!

Seventeen-year-old Manuela Azul (she goes by Manu) and her mother, Soledad, have been living in Miami illegally for most of Manu’s life. Manu has a strange eye condition, in which her pupils and irises look like stars so she has to wear sunglasses 24/7 to avoid freaking other people out. Though I’m certain if she walked into an optometrist’s convention with eyes like those she’d immediately be the most popular girl in the whole room, but since she and her mom are in the country illegally, that sort of attention would be very, very bad.

Soledad had to flee Argentina because Manu’s father, Fierro, was supposedly high up with some bad people who disapproved with his relationship with Soledad. So much so that they killed him, sending Soledad into hiding. If they knew Soledad was alive, and that Manu even existed, Fierro’s people would kill them both.

And, as if hiding from Fierro’s people were bad enough, Manu and Soledad are on a constant lookout for ICE. If their apartment building is raided by ICE, they could be deported, back to Argentina where they’d be sitting ducks for Fierro’s murderous family and friends. So Manu has lived a sheltered life within a tiny apartment with her mom and their elderly friend Perla, who has sheltered them for years.

And! As if being an undocumented immigrant with freaky-eye syndrome forever anxious that the next car might be full of ICE agents while stuck in a tiny apartment was bad enough, Manu also - also! - suffers from horrible periods. Joy. Every month, her mom gives her a special pill that puts her to sleep for three straight days just so she sleep through the pain. That’s shit makes PCOS sound like a walk in the park. (Note: do not go for a walk in the park right now and if you do remain 6 feet away from everyone else at all times). Also, where can I get a hold of a drug that can let me sleep through my period? I like the sound of that.

So Manu has spent much of her life dreaming of escape and a life without fear. Currently, her only hope is the knowledge that her mom is doing her best to get them both legal status. Then one day, Manu notices some strange people hanging around her apartment building. Then Perla is attacked and hospitalized. In a panic, Manu rushes off to find her mom...only to find that Soledad has been lying to her for quite some time. Soledad isn’t a maid for some rich lady - she works at an underground Miami clinic. And she never intended to apply for legal status for her and Manu.

Just as she’s reeling from this revelation, ICE raids the underground clinic. From here, the story takes a weird left-turn. On the run, Manu leaps into the back of a truck, and, after a long ride that sounded way more comfortable than a long ride in the bed of a truck should sound (seriously, there’s no jostling, no being flung about, no wind burn...I get that Florida is pretty flat, but aren’t there potholes? Rocks? Also, isn’t it illegal for someone to ride in the bed of a truck? How did no one else not see her and call the cops?) she ends up deep within the Florida Everglades. After somehow hopping out of the guy’s truck without him noticing that she was ever in there (again, how??? I drive a truck and would absolutely notice if someone were hitching a ride back there. Hey, how come I’m fishtailing significantly less than I usually do? Oh, wait, there’s a human back there) Manu stumbles upon...

A secret school for brujas and werewolves. In the Florida Everglades. And she meets people her age who have eyes just like hers. Suddenly, the puzzle pieces start fitting together - her father must have been a part of this society, not some criminal organization. Manu is half magic. She’s living the ultimate Harry Potter dream! And, somehow, without paying tuition or applying, Manu is allowed to join the school. Finaly, Manu has somewhere that she belongs, and even begins to make friends. She even starts making eyes at a hunky werewolf named Tiago.

There’s just one problem, though. The society that Manu has found herself in has some pretty strict gender roles. Girls are brujas, guys are werewolves. Period, end of sentence. But, even though she definitely belongs among this magical society, Manu doesn’t really have the powers of a bruja. She’s something else.

And there is one thing her mom wasn’t lying about - Fierro’s people are still pissed. Brujas and werewolves are not supposed to have relationships with humans. It’s forbidden. Like, really forbidden. Ultra forbidden. If Manu is found to be half-human, she’ll be killed.

So Manu has traded living forever in fear being an undocumented immigrant in America...for living forever in fear being half-human in a world of magical creatures who think hybrids are evil.

Good luck with that, Manu! Also, there’s still the question of the whereabouts of her still missing father. Is he dead? Alive? And what is Manu, if she’s not a bruja?

(If you speak Spanish, the title is a dead giveaway. Let me give you a hint: Manu’s hair is perfect. Aaooooo!)

Despite a couple of hiccups in the beginning - the book starts pretty slow before taking that weird left-turn into the Everglades and Bruja Werewolf academy. And, as is typical in the first book of a series, much time is spent establishing everything, and less on giving us closure or answers to the big questions. Like, for example, the fate of Mimitos. See, Manu has one friend in the apartment complex, an adorable cat named Mimitos. Mimitos’s owner is a bit senile, so Manu takes care of him...only after Manu flees after Perla is attacked, Mimitos disappears and is promptly never mentioned again. What happened to Mimitos? Is he OK? Is someone feeding him or giving him water and pets and cuddles and WHAT HAPPENED TO THE MIMITOS, ROMINA?!!?! I demand answers.

Maybe he went off to live in the Cat Kingdom from The Cat Returns? Maybe? Probably? Hopefully?

Ahem. Well, my ability to render a serious and well-thought out book review in the time of COVID-19 has gone to shit, so I’ll be brief. Lobizona is gorgeously written and a fascinating blend of YA contemporary and YA fantasy. I also love the warring gender dynamics within the magical society of brujas and werewolves - not everyone loves the strict binary, or the fact that they’re not allowed to hang out with humans. Ultimately, Lobizona is a brilliant story of a girl looking desperately for a place to belong within not just one, but two worlds that don’t want her - that have deemed her wrong. Illegal. And Manu is tired of that bullshit. If the human and magical worlds don’t want her, damn it, she’s going to go off and find a place that does.

Go forth and kick ass, Manu!

Another aspect of the book that I really liked (your mileage may vary, depending on how big of a language nerd you are) is how Garber discussed how there are many different dialects of Spanish. Argentinian Spanish apparently has a sing-song quality which makes me wonder if the English dialect equivalent of Argentinian Spanish would be Upper Midwest English, you know, like in Fargo. The Upper Midwest was settled heavily by Scandinavian immigrants and the Scandinavian languages do have a sing-song quality to them, then, well...

I'd love to know more about the different dialects of Spanish. If only I'd learned Spanish. I didn’t. I learned German, Schwachkopf that I am.

Which brings me to my rant, because I do love to rant. This does have something to do with Lobizona. Kind of. Anyway:

One of my biggest pet peeves in fiction is untranslated dialog. For some reason it really irks me, mostly because it reminds me of how dumb I am and how I should have learned more than just one other foreign language. I mean, seriously, I should have learned Spanish. I never did because I was that contrary moron who, upon seeing that everyone else was taking Spanish said, “screw you, I’ll take German!” Ultimately a bad idea, but, hey, Deutsch ist eine Wunderschöne Sprache. I don’t mind bits of untranslated stuff, so long as there are context clues as to what they might be saying.

I also find it annoying to have a sentence in a different language, and then have the sentence immediately after translate the preceding sentence. For readers that are fluent in both languages, you just made them read the same sentence twice, unless there’s a bilingual bonus in there. For readers out there who don’t speak that language, their eyes just glaze over and they skip the dialog entirely, in favor of the translation. Why not just say they were speaking in [insert foreign language here] then continue on?

I mean, I get wanting to show off your foreign language skills, or make the reader feel good about their language skills, or give a nod to fellow native speakers who also have had to master the cluster fuck of a language that is English (seriously, one of the best descriptions of the English language I’ve read is that English is basically three children in a trench coat pretending to be an adult, but as a language). Still, I find untranslated dialog super annoying. Because I dumb.

The worst example of this that I’ve ever encountered (and probably what soured me for any other instances of untranslated dialog ever in the future) was in this terrible translation of Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain that I read in college - you’d think an English translation of a German book would be entirely in English...yeah no, 3/4 of the way in, I found myself facing pages - multiple pages! - of untranslated....French.

French!

In a book that had already been translated from the German.

Damn it, translator, was there some sort of contract dispute in which you said, “well, they’re paying me to translate the book from German to English, so I’ll just leave these several pages of French conversation untranslated.”

Rrraaaage.

I was already frustrated with that book (it’s not great) but slogging through several pages of untranslated French with zero footnotes or even a translation provided in the afterward made me want to set the book on fire.

What does this have to do with Lobizona? Very little, except there are a few instances of untranslated dialog that, even if you speak zero Spanish, you’ll be able to figure out pretty quick. It just gave me awful Zauberberg flashbacks that brought back all that rrrrrage.

Fuck it, guys, we’re in the middle of a pandemic, and I promise cromulent reviews, not good ones.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone looking for an amazing blend of YA contemporary lit and fantasy that features kickass werewolves living in the Florida Everglades.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: Bigots, assholes, people who use the word “illegals” to refer to other human beings, werewolves who hate brujas, brujas who hate werewolves, non YA fantasy fans, anyone who objects to YA fiction containing actual real world problems.

RATING:4/5

RELEASE DATE: May 5, 2020

WEREWOLF RATING:

HOW TERRIFIED I AM OF COVID-19 RIGHT NOW:

Ahahahahaha I’m scared you guys. I still have to commute via public transportation to work downtown in a major city.

1 note · View note

masonhcrrison · 5 years

Text

(gavin leatherwood, cisfemale) MASON HARRISON, the PARADOX, is 21 and a SENIOR. HE is majoring in POLITICAL SCIENCE. They are not part of the Imperium Society and from the outside, they think it’s JUST ANOTHER CLUB FOR THE SOCIAL ELITE. I often see them around campus CAMPING OUT AT THE CAFE. They remind me of WORN LEATHER JOURNALS, LATE NIGHTS IN FRONT OF A LAPTOP, THE VIBE AFTER A DEBATE, COFFEE CUP RING STAINS ON A DESK. (sav)

*screams at the top of my lungs* HI Y’ALL please allow me to introduce my angel, the oldest character i have besides june, my son and love of my life....mason. he’s gone through a lot of revamps and this is probably my favorite so PLEASE like this if you’re interested in plotting with him !! underneath is a bit about him, i promise i won’t ramble much !! love y’all xx

(( TRIGGER WARNING: murder, mentions of gangs. ))

BASICS:

name: mason nicholas harrison

birthday: march seventeenth

zodiac: pisces

sexuality: heterosexual, though he experiments here and there

okay here’s the gist !!

mason is the oldest son to jennifer fowler, a teen mom who’s baby daddy kept leaving out the revolving door of their broken home ( that’s so poetic wow go me ).

said baby daddy gave mason two younger siblings as well, twins michael and melody.

being that he was seven years older than them, mason took over the role of being a father figure, despite not having a father to look up to himself.

they were a close knit family, jennifer got a grip and moved her family to london after finding a job with a travel agency as a representative.

remember mr. baby daddy? he was apparently the leader of a gang, who was subsequently charged with murder after the death of his long time rival.

but, before he was captured, he found the fowler-harrison household in their little apartment.

he wanted a place to hide, but instead only found his young son michael at home.

when michael tried to call the police, the man took his life, leaving mason and his family broken to almost undefinable pieces.

mason, trying ever so hard to be nothing like his father and wanting to avenge his little brother, worked his ass off in school and was granted a scholarship to ashcroft university.

he kinda hates being so far away from his mother and sister, but he’s working hard and is applying for an internship for an american embassy in order to kick start his career in politics.

hes a pretty quiet guy, unless he’s drunk or high or in a debate. he has a lot of love for his family, a total mama’s boy.

he’s pretty well rounded? when he’s not studying he’s playing guitar, sketching random people in the courthard on a sunny day, he’s lowkey kinda artsy even though he won’t admit it.

wanted connections !!

best friends: generic i know. but he usually has a hard time finding friends? he’s just closed off and i wanna see someone find there way through his shield.

exes: again, generic, but important. he’s bound to break a few hearts, i can’t help him.

flings: mason is not afraid of sneaking around in the most unconventional of places and taking out his frustrations on people he fancies....i’d also like to see him with a few males, as he’s trying to figure himself out in the sexuality department.

political/academic rival: he’s very serious about his coursework, so challenge him in anyway and make sure you brought drinks and popcorn: this shit is an experience.

#class:intro #/ can we talk about this gif really fast #/ this is so unorganized but pls love my sadboi

9 notes · View notes

almostafantasia · 6 years

Text

Lancelot (13/14)

Lexa Woods, an impeccably dressed British secret agent for the covert Kingsman organisation, whose latest mission sees her sneaking through the corridors of the White House in the middle of the night, finds herself having to seduce the daughter of the newly elected President of the United States in a bid to save the world. It’s a surprise to Lexa when she ends up falling for her target as fast as she does, meanwhile Clarke doesn’t expect her gorgeous date for an international political gala dinner to drag her into a world of thrill and danger where one wrong move could cause a global disaster.

a clexa kingsman au | chapter 13/14 read on ao3

Lexa doesn’t know where her jacket is.

It’s clearly not the most pressing issue at the moment, not when there are doctors checking up on each guest, not when there are armed members of the secret service with body armour and riot shields swarming around.

It was a very nice jacket though. The fit was just right and the red velour a striking colour that filled Lexa with confidence. Lexa will be disappointed if she can’t find it and ends up leaving it behind. She doesn’t think she’ll ever have another one like it, not unless she asks the tailors at Kingsman to make another one identical to it, but that would mean having to admit that she’s been careless enough to misplace the first.

Clarke would look good in Lexa’s jacket. It would suit her much better than the oversized men’s jacket she still wears over her dress. Lexa shudders even at the thought of Clarke wearing something that belongs to Roan Azgeda, when there is a perfectly good jacket belonging to Lexa that would keep her just as warm and make her look twice as good.

If only Lexa could locate it…

“Lexa! There you are!”

Lexa’s head snaps up as she hears her own name, to find Anya striding towards her with purpose in each step.

“Have you seen my jacket?” asks Lexa. “It must be around here somewhere.”

“That’s your biggest concern right now?”

Of course it isn’t Lexa’s biggest concern. Lexa is worried that one of the guests will have slipped away without being treated for the poison, she’s worried that she’s going to get arrested and tried for murder even though she only shot Ontari to save everybody else, she’s worried that Clarke won’t forgive her and that she’ll have to live the rest of her life with the knowledge that she’s betrayed the one person she’s allowed herself to truly care about. But it’s easier to suppress all of that and pretend that it’s all about a jacket.

“It’s a nice jacket,” shrugs Lexa. “It would be a shame if I didn’t get to wear it again.”

Anya reaches out and rests her hand on Lexa’s arm.

“You’re allowed to feel things, Lex,” Anya tells her, voice full of concern. “It’s not a weakness.”

Lexa can’t help the way that her gaze flicks across to where Clarke sits next to her father across the room, still huddled up under Roan’s jacket.

“Look where feeling things got me,” Lexa mutters bitterly.

Anya must sense Lexa’s resentment because she swiftly changes the topic.

“Anyway, they’ve arrested Nia Azgeda on her way to JFK to flee the country. She and her son are both going to face charges of treason, attempted murder, and attempted assassination of a President, to name a few.”

“So that’s it?” asks Lexa. “Job done?”

“I think so,” nods Anya.

Lexa pauses, looking around the room at all of the lives she’s saved tonight and wondering why she doesn’t feel better than this about such an accomplishment.

She voices this to Anya.

“Somehow I don’t feel as good as I should about that.”

“Me neither,” admits Anya.

“I think it’s pretty close call as to which of us is Kingsman’s worst agent,” jokes Lexa, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Bullshit,” snorts Anya, shaking her head in disagreement. “It’s very obviously me, by a long way.”

Lexa tries to protest, knowing that this mission has had its fair share of hiccups that have been a direct result of mistakes that she has made.

“But I…”

“Saved the lives of hundreds of people while I was too busy shagging Raven to care,” interrupts Anya, completing Lexa’s sentence before Lexa has the chance to say something self-deprecating about her own involvement in the mission.

Lexa considers Anya’s words and, realising that she doesn’t have the energy to protest, concedes half-heartedly.

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“You needed me and I wasn’t there,” says Anya. “And I can only apologise for that and promise you that it won’t happen again.”

“It’s all fine now,” says Lexa. “We did it. We saved all these lives.”

Lexa gestures around the room, to the masses of guests that could have ended tonight as corpses, had it not been for a Kingsman intervention and the quick-thinking and hard work of Lexa and Anya. Lexa shudders even at the thought of it. All it would have taken is for one thing to have gone differently over the last couple of weeks, and there could have been a death toll of more than one here tonight. Lexa doesn’t want to imagine what would have happened if things hadn’t played out like they did, if she hadn’t agreed to go to that bar with Anya and bumped into Clarke again after Merlin specifically forbade them from leaving the hotel.

It’s a dark thought, and Lexa tries to swim away from it by lightening the mood.

“Jesus, I can’t believe I saved the life of a Tory Prime Minister,” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically as she watches the British Prime Minister across the room, talking rapidly over a phone.

Anya doesn’t laugh, and Lexa glances up at her oldest friend to find anxiety written all over her face.

Lexa tries to put herself in Anya’s situation and imagines how she would be feeling if it was Clarke who ended up in the back of an ambulance with a bullet in her leg. She knows that she would be beside herself with worry, unable to do anything at all until she had the physical proof that Clarke would make a full recovery. Hell, Lexa is already worried about Clarke’s wellbeing, and the girl only sitting across the room, unharmed by bullets or any other weapons.

“Is Raven going to be okay?” asks Lexa, unsure how Anya is staying so unaffected by it all.

“I think so,” nods Anya. “I wanted to follow her to the hospital but she told me to stay here and make sure that everybody else was okay too. But I phoned the hospital pretending to be her mum and they told me that her condition is stable.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Lexa says truthfully. “You could probably go, you know. I think there’s enough people here to have everything under control. I’m sure Raven would appreciate a familiar face at her side.”

“I don’t know,” shrugs Anya. “I don’t want to abandon you here again. I would die if something happened while I was gone.”

Lexa shakes her head and rests a reassuring hand on Anya’s shoulder.

“Now who’s the one hiding from their feelings?” asks Lexa, shooting Anya a teasing grin.

“Oh, piss off!”

Lexa wakes up to a knock on her hotel room door. A quick glance at the screen of her phone tells her that it’s just gone four thirty in the afternoon - she’s slept for nearly ten hours, but Lexa’s eyes are still heavy with tiredness.

Lexa is far too exhausted to give a shit about her appearance. She still wears the clothes from last night, or at least the shirt and trousers, both crumpled and a little blood-spattered and not at all appropriate for answering the door in. But the list of people who could be at her door is only three: Anya or Merlin here to update her on the arrangement for leaving America now that their job here is done; or one of the hotel’s maids who, Lexa reasons, has probably seen some much weirder stuff than a little blood on a guest’s shirt.

The person outside knocks again, and Lexa reluctantly hauls herself up onto her feet and trudges over to the door, where she unlocks it with a click and turns the handle to open it.

“Um, hi.”

It’s Clarke. Not Anya, not Merlin, definitely not a maid, but Clarke. Lexa wishes now more than ever that she had taken the time to shower and change her clothes before she fell asleep. In comparison, Clarke looks as clean and as fresh-faced as she would if she hadn’t had the night that she did at the gala dinner.

“Clarke,” says Lexa, trying not to show how surprised she is to find Clarke outside her hotel room. “I … uh, I fell asleep as soon I got back here. I was completely wiped out.”

Clarke glances down at Lexa’s attire and nods once.

“I can see that. Can I come in?”

Lexa steps aside immediately and Clarke takes hesitant steps past her and into the hotel room. Clarke hovers near the door, not quite making herself at home, and Lexa is left feeling only even more awkward about the way they left things last. It seems strange to be this careful around each other, especially given the memories they made in this very room just days ago after their date, but Lexa has to remind herself that Clarke has every right to still be angry at her.

“Clarke, I just want to start by saying that I’m so…”

“No,” Clarke interrupts her. “You don’t get to apologise yet. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this - thinking about you - and I’ve practiced ten different versions of what I want to say to you, so you don’t get to say anything until I’ve got this out.”

Lexa closes her mouth and nods obediently, waiting for Clarke to say her piece.

“I’ve been trying to get my head around why you lied,” admits Clarke. She lets out a sigh, then continues animatedly, “Like, it frustrated the fuck out of me at first. I thought we had something special and how dare you think you could play me like that? But also, how could I be stupid enough to fall for that?”

Lexa wants nothing more than to interject, to tell Clarke that they do have something special, that she hasn’t been able to think about anything but Clarke since they first stumbled into each other in the halls of the White House. But she knows that Clarke still has so much more to say, and Lexa forcibly keeps her mouth closed and saves her apologies and explanations until Clarke gives her permission to speak.

“If you said to me that you needed to be at the dinner because of your mission, I would have invited you in an instant,” continues Clarke. “You must have known that!”

Though she stays silent, Lexa gives a little nod in response.

“And that’s when it hit me,” says Clarke. “You wanted that date. You wanted an ‘us’ that was more than me just being a girl you met on a mission.”

Lexa’s eyes start to prickle with tears, and an uncomfortable lump forms in her throat, making it difficult for her to swallow.

Clarke continues, her voice softer and more thoughtful than before, and her blue eyes boring into Lexa.

“Our date and that night we spent together felt incredibly real and I don’t think it would have happened like that if you’d just asked me to take you to the gala dinner. At least, that’s what I’m hoping. Because the only other option that makes sense is that you saw an opportunity to play me and get laid, and I really hope it wasn’t that.”

Lexa shakes her head and wipes at the tears in her eyes before they have a chance to spill down her cheeks. This conversation is important and it’s going to be difficult enough without having to force the words out past wave after wave of tears.

“I told you that I don’t do this often,” confesses Lexa. “I don’t do feelings.”

Lexa’s knee twinges in pain and she grits her teeth as she mentally wills her old injury to go back to sleep, before she continues talking.

“There have been girls on missions before, but that’s always been easy,” Lexa tells Clarke. “There’s things that you can say to make a girl swoon, things you can do to push the right buttons and get what you want, and that’s easy because it’s a routine that I’ve practiced before. It’s easy because I have no personal investment in those girls.”

“But you do in me?” asks Clarke, her eyebrows raised.

There’s something that looks like hope in her eyes - a glimmer that reignites something within Lexa’s chest, a feeling that maybe there is still a chance to make things right with Clarke.

But of course there is still a chance. Clarke wouldn’t have come here if there wasn’t at least a small part of her still holding out for Lexa. It would have been way too easy to ignore Lexa, to let her fly back to England and forget about her entirely. The fact that she’s here says as much as any words could do.

It’s especially important for Lexa to get this right. Clarke has been kind enough to give her a chance to explain herself, and Lexa will berate herself for a long time if she takes that opportunity and fucks it up beyond repair.

“From the very second I first saw you, I knew I was in trouble,” admits Lexa, recalling their first meeting and the fluttering in her chest she felt when she first laid eyes on Clarke. “I don’t want to call it love at first sight, but I could feel some kind of connection straight away.”

Clarke is quiet for a few seconds, and she takes a seat on the end of Lexa’s bed, before she finally concedes, “I felt it too.”

Lexa’s heart flips just like it did that very first time, in inexplicable rush of excitement in her chest at Clarke’s admission that their first meeting had the same effect on her too.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this yet, but I was wearing an earpiece that night,” says Lexa, smiling to herself at the memory. “I had Anya howling with laughter in my ear the entire time I was trying to make an impression on you, because even she knew that you were going to ruin me. And then ever since, I’ve had the real Anya reminding me that this is a mission, that you weren’t allowed to be anything more than another mark.”

“So really, Anya is the one I should be mad at right now?” asks Clarke.

“No,” says Lexa, shaking her head. “Because if it weren’t for Anya, I never would have been in the bar that night, and I wouldn’t have asked you to get me into the White House again, and I definitely wouldn’t have asked you out on that date. Without Anya, I would have run away from my feelings and never spoken to you again.”

Clarke’s eyebrows furrow together in thought.

“So should I be throwing a drink in Anya’s face, or buying her a thank you card?”

Lexa blushes a little bit at the reference to last night, remembering the feeling of the cool drink hitting her face and the betrayed look on Clarke’s face right before she stormed away. It doesn’t quite seem like that was only less than twenty four hours ago. So much has happened since then that Lexa feels as though an entire lifetime has passed since.

“I guess it depends what happens next,” answers Lexa, shrugging her shoulders.

Lexa knows what she wants to happen next. And if she gets her own way - if Clarke agrees that she wants to put things behind them and try to move forward together - Lexa thinks that maybe she will be the one who owes Anya and thank you card.

“When do you fly out?” asks Clarke.

“In the next couple of days, I think,” replies Lexa.

She hasn’t yet spoken to Anya or Merlin since she returned to the hotel very early this morning, but Lexa doesn’t think that they’ll be staying in America long. The events of last night will likely be plastered all over the media and it’s unlikely that Merlin will let them stick around for long enough to get their faces associated with it all. Besides, now that their mission is over, there’s no longer a reason to stay over here.

(It’s a lie. There is a reason, and her name is Clarke Griffin.)

“And I’m supposed to return to college tomorrow afternoon,” Clarke adds. She lets out a disheartened sigh, and then says, “It feels a lot like the universe is working against us.”

Lexa’s heart catches in her throat. She almost doesn’t want to believe what Clarke has said, wants to think that it’s just a product of her own hopeful imagination. Because it sounds a lot like Clarke has just admitted she wants to make things work with Lexa.

“Am I forgiven?” Lexa dares to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clarke pushes herself up into a standing position and her hands reach out to seek Lexa’s hips, fingers gripping tightly as soon as she makes contact like she never wants to let Lexa go.

“You idiot,” exhales Clarke. “Of course you’re forgiven.”

The way their lips crash together is inescapable, like the opposite poles of two magnets unable to stop themselves from flying together. Lexa nearly starts crying right there - she thought she had lost Clarke, thought that her own actions might have pushed Clarke away for good - and the noise that slips from her lips as she suppresses those tears ends up sounding like a choked whimper.

The noise seems to encourage Clarke. She takes two steps backwards and sits on the end of the bed again, and the hand on Lexa’s hips cling impossibly tighter. Lexa finds herself leaning forward as Clarke sits down, lips still unwilling to leave Clarke’s even for a second. There’s a moment where Lexa thinks that she’s free-falling, a split-second in which gravity seems to take over and the only thing tethering Lexa to reality is Clarke’s touch on her hips and on her mouth, but it’s over in a flash. Lexa finds herself sitting in Clarke’s lap as Clarke pulls her forward even further, until Lexa’s full body is pretty much covering Clarke’s on the bed.

It would be so easy to get lost in each other, to keep kissing until long after hands wander and clothes come flying off, but Lexa knows herself well enough to know that there’s a high chance that she’ll either burst into tears or pass out within moments of orgasming, and she isn’t ready for that just yet.

They still have a lot left to discuss.

“Wait, wait, stop,” Lexa mumbles against Clarke’s lips, forcibly lifting her head and rolling off Clarke’s body to the side. “We should figure this out first.”

“Buzzkill,” says Clarke, rolling her eyes and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand as she sits up. “No, I’m kidding. You’re right.”

Lexa moves to sit on the edge of the bed, putting a little bit of distance between them so that Clarke and her distractingly kiss-hazed eyes aren’t right there in Lexa’s immediate vicinity. She needs a clear head for this next part of the conversation, and that won’t happen if she and Clarke are practically on top of each other.

“I have something else to tell you,” confesses Lexa. “I don’t work for MI6.”

Clarke’s mouth falls open and she frowns at Lexa in confusion, before she asks, “You don’t-? But if you’re not a secret agent then-”

“I work for an organisation called Kingsman,” explains Lexa. She laughs to herself, then adds, “I don’t know if I’m even allowed to tell you this but I’m fed up of lying to you. Actually, I think Kingsman is probably so secret that it wouldn’t even count as treason to tell you about it.”

“What’s Kingsman?” asks Clarke.

“A secret intelligence organisation based in London,” clarifies Lexa. “Most of what I told you is completely true. I really did join the army straight out of school but had to drop out because of injury. Then Anya, who I had known since school and was already working for Kingsman, put my name forward for the recruitment tests. I passed and they offered me this job. I became Agent Lancelot.”

“So you’re a secret secret agent?” asks Clarke, a trace of awe in her voice.

Lexa nods, her lips twitching up into a little smile.

“I guess so. And I’m sorry for lying to you. About this and about the dinner.”

“Lucky for you, I really like you,” smiles Clarke, reaching out to take one of Lexa’s hands.

“Are we going to make this work?” Lexa asks hopefully. “It’s a five hour time difference when I’m back in London.”

Clarke shrugs, and then says, “Could be worse.”

Lexa laughs softly under her breath, because it most definitely will get worse than that.

She tries to explain this to Clarke.

“Of course, there’s no guarantee how long I’ll be in London for, or even where I end up going next,” says Lexa. “Or if I would be able to contact you at all. When I’m really deep undercover it sometimes isn’t safe.”

Clarke’s face falls a little bit, apparently having been so caught up in the excitement of making up after their disagreement that she had forgotten the nature of Lexa’s work and the fact that she might be constantly travelling all over the globe.

“That sucks,” admits Clarke dejectedly. She glances up at Lexa, a glimmer of positivity in her eyes as she adds, “But I’m not the kind of person who needs to be texting somebody I’m into all the time.”

“No, me neither.”

Clarke grins and holds one of her hands up in the air, palm facing Lexa.

“High five to maintaining healthy relationship boundaries.”

Lexa can’t help the bubble of laughter that leaves her throat, and she awkwardly lifts her own hand to press a soft palm against Clarke’s.

Clarke blushes, realising what she’s just done, and mumbles, “Sorry, that was weird. Carry on.”

“Right,” says Lexa, trying what they were talking about before the high five. “We wouldn’t be able to talk all the time, and we definitely wouldn’t get to see much of each other.”

“I could come and visit you,” suggests Clarke. “I get three months off for summer. I could spend some of that with you.”

“And I’ve been working a lot this year,” adds Lexa. “I’m due some time off this summer.”

Clarke reaches for one of Lexa’s hands, much less awkwardly than the last time their palms met, and laces her fingers through Lexa’s.

“We’re actually doing this,” says Clarke, with the air of a giddy child about her voice as she speaks. “We’re going to make this work.”

“I have no idea what’s going to happen in the long term,” confesses Lexa, “but we’ve got the short term figured out. The rest we can work out as we go.”

Clarke pulls on their connected hands, encouraging Lexa to come closer again, and Lexa is too weak around Clarke to do anything but comply. She settles on top of Clarke again, this time with Clarke’s legs wrapped around her waist and locked at the ankle behind Lexa’s hips, effectively trapping her in place. Not that Lexa minds. It’s a very nice place to be trapped.

“As for the super short term…” says Clarke, tipping backwards until her back hits the mattress and bringing Lexa with her.

“Oh, you have some ideas about that too?” teases Lexa, her face just inches from Clarke’s as she uses one of her arms to prop up her body weight.

“First of all, we’re going to take a shower,” says Clarke, rocking her hips up so that her pelvis grinds against Lexa’s lower stomach.

“We are?”

“Yeah,” says Clarke, curling a hand around the back of Lexa’s head and drawing her closer so that she can whisper into Lexa’s ear, as if she’s imparting some big secret that needs to be kept from the rest of the world, “and then I’m going to take you to bed and fuck you stupid. Then you’re going to let me take you out to dinner, and after that we’re going to come back here and have sex again. And probably again after that.”

Lexa’s brain short-circuits at the phrase “fuck you stupid” and she barely registers the content of the rest, only Clarke’s husky voice and the obvious implications of her words from the way that her hips slowly move and seek out contact from Lexa’s body.

“I really like this plan,” says Lexa, her voice breathy with arousal.

Clarke grins at the admission.

“Why don’t we move this to the shower and you can show me just how much you like it?”

“Is Raven okay?”

The question comes to Lexa’s mind when she’s naked in bed, tangled around Clarke and the bedsheets, some time after round three has reached its conclusion. Somewhere along the way, the idea of Clarke taking Lexa out to dinner became forgotten, and a cart once laden with room service stands at the foot of the bed, now carrying plates of half-eaten food and an empty bottle of champagne that Clarke insisted on ordering to celebrate saving the world.

“That’s the first thing you have to say after I make you cum?” asks Clarke, propping herself up on one elbow while the fingers of the other hand brush stray curls out of Lexa’s face.

“I mean,” admits Lexa, “I’m feeling guilty that I’m here enjoying this - enjoying you - and she’s stuck in a hospital bed with a bullet in her leg.”

“They took the bullet out in surgery,” Clarke tells Lexa, her hand still absently playing with Lexa’s hair, curling loose strands around her fingertips. “Last I heard, she was high on pain meds and trying to persuade Anya to dress up as a sexy nurse.”

Lexa snorts to herself.

“I bet Anya loved that.”

“I think if Raven hadn’t just come out of theatre, Anya might have been less sympathetic,” grins Clarke.

“I’ll try and visit her before I leave for England,” says Lexa, voicing her thoughts aloud. “It’s mostly my fault that she got shot.”

“When do you fly back?” asks Clarke, a trace of sadness in her voice.

“I don’t know,” confesses Lexa, nestling her head against Clarke’s shoulder and draping her arm across Clarke’s bare stomach beneath the cotton sheet that shields their sweaty bodies from the chill of the hotel room. “Within the next day or two, I would guess. And you go back to college in the afternoon?”

“Mmm.”

Lexa lifts herself from Clarke so that she can reach for the phone on the nightstand, unlocking the screen to check the time. It’s just gone midnight, and time is passing much faster than Lexa would like.

“But,” says Clarke, rolling Lexa onto her back and covering Lexa’s body with her own as she nuzzles her face into Lexa’s neck and sends a hand lower, “I don’t plan on sleeping tonight until I’ve had you at least twice more…”

“Clarke, I’m not sure I can go again,” protests Lexa, even as her legs fall open to let Clarke’s exploratory fingers dip into her folds, still wet and sensitive from the last round.

“Sure you can,” sniggers Clarke, sucking the skin of Lexa’s neck between her teeth as her fingers tease and probe.

Clarke, Lexa quickly decides in that moment, is going to be the death of her.

Lexa can’t wait.

#clexa #clexa fic #clexa fanfic #kingsman au #clarke griffin #commander lexa #can you believe this fic is almost over?#the last chapter is just an epilogue #the plot is basically done now #i'm so unbelievably nervous about posting this #i think my anxiety increases with each chapter #i hope you like it

26 notes · View notes