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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

* * *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment.

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible.

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years

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Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.

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devilish-miasma · 3 years

Note

Hello! do you know gokushufudo(the way of the househusband)? For a request, it could be possible Dante and vergil and nero(platonic) with S/O who is like tatsu, the immortal dragon. Excelent and Cook extremely delicious, have scary smile 🤣 and really love and care his boyfriend/ son? Hahah it would funny see the reaction of vergil when nero introduces him to her as his mother, they shake hands and she warns him not to hurt her son(Nero) again. While squeezing him hand too hard (super strength) Thanks!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ahh hello again. Unfortunately I do not know much of what you’re talking about. I did some research while I wrote this but I would like to apologize for any inaccuracies written here, as my knowledge of this anime is severely lacking.

I would also like to inform you that this was kept gender-neutral, except for Nero’s part. I know you used feminine pronouns when you spoke of Nero, so I tried to respect that. I hope you have a lovely day/afternoon/night and enjoy reading.

Toxic

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dante

Oh my god, finally, someone who can get Dante to eat something other than pizza and strawberry sundaes.

Devil May Cry has been the cleanest it's ever been since your arrival. Cleaning the shop provided stress relief, cooking, too. So, you have no problem with your job as a housespouse. Though, it can be annoying when the electric is shut off.

Lady and Trish definitely tease Dante about it. Saying that the shop wouldn’t look this good if you hadn’t come around. Though, they do wonder what screws you have loose to marry Dante of all men.

Dante’s not one for finer, expensive cuisine, but he does appreciate the effort you put in meals. Making him meals for when he’s out demon hunting, preparing a meal for when he returns home. It makes Dante feel special, and feeling this way has made him fight harder. It pushes his determination to return home quicker and see you.

He’ll convince you to make homemade pizza. You only learn a recipe because it makes him happy, but you refuse to make a habit out of it. You just want Dante to eat something other than pizza for once.

Sometimes, Dante will come home super late, and he’ll see you at the table, asleep. Gently, he’ll pick you up and put you to bed, only for you to grab him and grumble about food in the fridge. Dante just smiles and kisses your temple.

As nice as you are, you’re also scary. You definitely scare him at times, including those affiliated with Devil May Cry. You have this… expression that demands authority. You even get Vergil to listen to you, and that’s saying something.

“You’re seriously that intimidated by someone so smaller than you, Verge?”

“How laughable for you to assume such things, little brother, when you bat your eye at them and do whatever they wish.”

Dante and Vergil’s fights end quickly now that you’re in the picture. Both of them stop due to not wanting to feel your wrath.

In general, you’re a badass. Once, you caught wind of a demon hunting job gone wrong, and you showed up, guns blazing (literally), proclaiming to your adversaries that you’re a housespouse. Dante has never seen anything hotter.

You are a sweetheart to Dante, though. Very loving, caring deeply for your husband. You lovingly kiss and hold him, his inner demon purring in happiness. The relationship makes Dante feel content, and he knows this is what he’s always wanted.

Vergil

“Ah yes. Me. My spouse. And their ability to make demons cry.”

You’re kind, understanding, and strong, of course he fell for you. You are also unafraid of him. Having someone like that forced Vergil’s walls down.

Vergil built his walls up tall and strong, and you were so, so stubborn and knocked them all down. He’s never felt so safe, so understanding with anyone before. Falling in love with you seemed as natural as breathing.

As sweet and kind as you are to him, your wrath is not to be tested. Vergil is not a man who is intimidated easily, but seeing what you’ve done to him and Dante when they fight made him realize you’re a force to be reckoned with. And he admires that.

Vergil enjoys cooking discussions with you. He loves seeing you become enthused with your craft, seeing how you become when speaking about cooking. Sometimes he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about but he enjoys learning. And you enjoy teaching him.

He’ll sometimes watch you cook. It’s very relaxing.

Cooking for him makes Vergil feel emotions. It is an act that makes him fall deeper and deeper in love with you.

Vergil doesn’t become jealous in your relationship knowing you can put those who flirt with you in their place. Once, Dante flirted with you, unaware of your relationship with him. Dante earned the shock of his life when you announced that you “had a man one-hundred times finer than” him while showing off your ring, and then grabbing Vergil and showing his ring.

Knowing that you’re so loyal also provides comfort to Vergil. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you’re suddenly not in his life.

When he’s out demon hunting with his brother or son (or both), you’ll always make lunch for him. Vergil has taken it upon himself to eat on top of Nico’s van to avoid being teased. Not that it's embarrassing, he just sincerely hates it when his brother does that.

You’re always up waiting for him, even though he tells you not to. You await with dinner ready, and Vergil can faintly smell cleaning products. From earlier cleaning, he guessed. It's a natural, normal thing and Vergil cannot imagine himself coming home to anything other than that.

Nero (platonic) (fem!reader)

You first met Nero at the grocery store, and this sweetheart grabbed something for you on the very top shelf. You met him again out in public when some men were harassing you, which he unkindly told them to fuck off. That’s when you invited Nero for tea, and you’ve adopted him ever since.

You are absolutely kind to him, a total sweetheart. Nero came to your place multiple times for lunch, even invited you to meet Kyrie. You bonded with his girlfriend through cooking, even teaching her a thing or two.

Soon, Nero found himself attached to you. He looked up to you, an older, positive feminine figure in his life, one he thought he’d never have. He began to see you as a mother, and due to how nurturing you were, it seemed natural for those feelings to fall in place like pieces to a puzzle.

With that sweet, caring side was a fierce protective personality.

“Don’t talk to me or my son ever again,” You growl at some asshole. Nero has never felt so cherished before.

When you met Vergil, it was hilarious and scary. Nero already told you about the whole arm ripping off business, and it formed some bitterness within you. When you met, you put on a happy mask and introduced yourself to this stoic, unflinching man. You knew what you needed to do.

As you shook hands, Vergil made a face best described as surprise. Through your smile, an intimidating aura leaked off of you. You gripped his hand with such force it surprised him that you, a human woman, was capable of such strength. Strength that affected a full grown half-demon.

You suddenly grasped his collar and forced him down to your level, your lower eyelid twitching.

“Listen here, mister,” your voice oozed with venom and protectiveness over Nero. “If I ever hear that you’ve hurt my son again, I will make you rue your very birth. Do that shit again and you will regret it. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nero and Dante have never laughed so hard.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Read it on AO3 | Rules | Buy this devil a coffee

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tumbling-darkling · 3 years

Text

Miraculous Ghosts

Danny and friends visit Paris and come across trouble, as well as the cities local superheroes.

Lately, Hawkmoth has been recycling villains. There are only so many people in Paris and not everyone gets emotionally vulnerable strongly enough or long enough to be akumatized. Those that do, and commonly like Mr. Pidgeon, usually had a certain fixation that was easy to exploit. The thing was, both Marienette and Chat Noir already knew their weakness, the items that would most likely get akumatized, the whole schtick. So the battles were really fast and easy.

A new face always had to be met with caution, the lack of knowledge regarding the person was dangerous and if the pair wasn’t careful, they could end up losing the battle. And their Miraculous.

With the start of summer came tourist season, and tourists could be victims of akumatization. Which seemed to be the case within the first week. 3 villains, all new faces, but the pair had gotten lucky with the similar powers that the heroes had faced before and the three were all defeated in a timely manner.

There was a short week of nothing happening.

And then all hell broke loose.

—————————————————————

Marienette knew the start of the tourist season had begun just based on the filled streets of strange faces, sunglasses, cameras, and the use of foreign languages. This also was noticed based on how busy her parents' shop had become, and how rarely she was managing to escape outside to enjoy some of summer's freedom. The good thing was she was able to brush up on some of her English, since the tourists usually spoke the common American language and the experience was always welcome to help boost her grades in the upcoming year. Even if it was a few months away.

She’d figured out the best way to sneak off during any attacks was to ‘use the bathroom’ or ‘accidently’ make a mess and excuse herself to clean up. It had worked during the first week and she didn’t have to do anything the past week since Hawkmoth seemed to take a break. She finished serving a young pair of Americans, a tall girl with orange hair, and a lanky boy nearly the same height with raven black hair.

She had to admit, some Americans had a certain charm, but the bustle of the kitchen quickly caught her attention as she was back to serving the next person in line.

Just as Chloe waltzed in, basically knocking the american boy over as she strutted to the front of the line, causing people to cast glares in her direction. The boy hissed when he fell, the American girl offering to help him up in English as he shook his head and stood up, dusting himself off as Marienette went to deal with the walking form of pure rich privilege. “Urg, Dupain-Cheng’s dingy little cafe? Of course she works here, it just smells like burnt bread.” She huffed.

Marienette bristled, but put on her customer service smile, noticing the poor Americans victim to Chloe leaving the shop. She was hoping to offer them a replacement after dealing with Chloe but it was a little late now. “Ma’am, unless you are here to pick up an order, you will have to wait in line like everyone else.” She strained.

“Ma’am? I am Chloe Dubois! I don’t need to wait in line like some sort of peasant! Just give me whatever you didn’t make.”

Marienette had to swallow down any returning insults and put down one of their most expensive items, handing it over with a clearly strained smile, “have a nice day.”

Chloe huffed with her baked goods in hand but left as soon as she appeared, allowing Marienette some relief. Very little damage. A little annoyance but nothing worthy of an akuma-.

An explosion was heard from outside, and Marienette groaned internally.

She just had to jinx it.

—————————————————————

Ladybug dove off to the side as the villain shot out a ray of white, plasma-like energy. Adrien, fighting as Chat Noir, and his partner were having a hell of a time with this dude. He spotted the chaos on the news, the villain calling himself ‘Black Hole’ and giving his poor Lady a hard time. When he finally arrived on the scene, he wasn’t able to do much either.

The villain was basically a godly powerhouse, floating in the air, shooting burning rays of heated plasma, or even ice! Ice and plasma! Sometimes he MIXED the two beams to create an even WORSE beam! Whenever either of the heroes got close enough to land a hit, their punches and kicks would go right through him. Then he would DISAPPEAR. REAPPEARING AND LANDING ANOTHER HEAVY BLOW. He would fly around like gravity was non-existent, and these abilities didn’t stop there. Every so often, he would yank out this thermos looking thing and shoot out these wormholes. Or… possibly black holes. Calling them black holes felt wrong though… since they glowed green and swirled before disappearing after a few moments.

The villain's outfit was a change of pace too. It was impossible to figure out his age since he was completely covered in a thick fabric material that reminded him of space suits. Yet looked a lot less bulky than actual space suits, thin yet sturdy metal covered his forearms, and formed a backpack that was attached by a wide metal collar that spread to his collarbone and slightly covered his shoulders, as well as a metal strap that wrapped around right under his chest. A plated, metal belt circled his waist with a clip for the green black hole thermos, and thigh high boots with a similar fabric to his suit covered most of his legs, thick plastic looking platform soles attached at the feet. Black bands wrapped around the ankles of the boots. A helmet covered his entire face, a metal frame covering the bottom half like a muzzle while the top was a tinted glass dome following the shape of his head, the inside of it entirely black except for the eerie glow of a single, left eye. The helmet had a tube on the back of the helmet that connected to his backpack, but neither he or Ladybug could figure out if it was essential or for decoration. His entire colouring was monotone, much bleaker than their previous villains. His suit was black, the boots, forearm cuffs, belt, backpack and collar were all a middle shade of grey, the only flash of colour being the glow of the single toxic green eye amongst the darkness of the helmet.

The dude was disturbing. He didn’t make any sound, in fact he seemed to ABSORB the sound around him. Like they were in space.

Paris was getting destroyed more and more by the second and the two didn’t know what to do. The Lady’s lucky charm turned into a thermos, which she didn’t have a clue how to use in the situation in front of them. Maybe it was a hint? A clue about soup? Or getting the villains thermos?

The problem with the last idea was that neither he or Ladybug could TOUCH this villain. And each of them were getting worse and worse for wear by the second. He could tell Ladybug was getting ready to get some sort of help, but who could make something untouchable… touchable? Chat even tried to use cataclysm on the villain's thermos while Ladybug had distracted him, but he twisted at the last moments and grabbed Chat's hand, draining cataclysm before he tossed him aside like it was nothing.

Another blast of plasma sent the two tumbling away from each other, and then a blast of ice caught Chat off guard. Cold shot up his arm as his muscles convulsed, a scream caught in his throat as the ice trapped his arm in such a tight and sturdy prison. He twisted to try and use his free arm to claw the other out of the ice, a shadow in the corner of his vision causing him to twist and jolt in surprise as the villain stood right in front of him. The glowing green eye was cold as it bore into him, and the villain grew closer and closer, drifting off the ground and absorbing every noise around him, the air around them dropping to freezing temperatures. Chats breath formed in front of him as gasps, panic clear in the quick breaths, fear intensifying as the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat and blood roaring through his veins.

The villain's hand shot out and grabbed his free one- the one with his miraculous.

Chat heard Ladybug cry out as the villain gripped onto the ring, a quick glance showing she too was trapped.

That she was next.

Chat tried to keep his fingers curled, but he was battered and weak, and the villain hadn’t even broken a sweat during their fight. Prying open his fingers was easy, the ring vulnerable. This was it. He used cataclysm too soon and now he was powerless. He couldn’t escape. He couldn’t save anyone. He was a failure. This was the end of Paris.

They lost.

—————————————————————

Fucking. Vlad.

This entire trip had Danny on edge and it was all because of Vlad.

At first, he thought maybe, for once, Vlad wasn’t being a piece of shit when offering the family a fully paid trip to France for two weeks. He was suspicious. He probably just wanted the family out of town to do some shady shit. But a two week trip to France wasn’t the WORST thing a man could do. Especially in comparison to kidnapping and cloning.

But then his parents got sick. A common flu. Right before the trip. And they wanted Jazz and him to experience Paris. Then Vlad offered to be a chaperone.

It was all a play to get Danny alone for two weeks and try and manipulate him.

He did manage to get Tucker and Sam to tag along, something about friends being his family and the two unused tickets his parents left behind. But Vlad knew how to separate the group. How to corner Danny at the worst moments and whisper annoying remarks in his ear as he tried to get away.

He survived a week. He only had one more week to go. Tucker and Sam were off checking out some places for lunch while Jazz and Danny went to pick up sweets for everyone to share after their meal.

Vlad was off doing who knew what so Danny had put him to the back of his mind.

The cafe they found was… well it smelled incredible. There were so many baked goods on display and the air was filled with the warm and sweet smell of the goodies. He let Jazz do most of the talking, she wanted to practice her French and Danny had recently discovered that being dubbed the ghost king meant that now he had a natural grasp on all verbal languages, including the dead ones. This meant his speech in French was almost flawless, and his understanding was like he was listening to someone speak English. He couldn’t read other languages though, just speak them. He was told though by a few locals he had an odd accent. It wasn’t an american one, just… odd.

So Jazz ordered the treats and the pair was headed out to meet Danny’s friends.

Then some blonde girl with way too much make-up basically knocked him to the ground, not even sending him a glance that indicated she knew what she did. It was annoying, but he dealt with bullies on a daily basis back at Amity Park. Well… used to. But he knew better than to waste any thought on some jerk like her. He sadly looked at the ruined cat paw shaped cookies, the icing ruined and the cookies crushed under his weight when he fell.

Standing up with the help of Jazz, they left the shop as Danny insisted on finding somewhere to wash off the icing stuck to his shirt. He liked this shirt too… he hoped it wouldn’t stain too badly. It was better than ectoplasm at least, that stuff needed to be burned out, there was no such thing as washing out ectoplasm.

Jazz asked to help, but Danny brushed her off, telling her he could easily clean himself off by himself.

And then Vlad chose that moment to corner him.

—————————————————————

“Hello Daniel.”

Danny splashed water wildly as he spun around to glare at the older Halfa, hissing out an ‘Ancients!’ in surprise. “What the hell, Vlad?” He spat, “sneaking up on a kid in the bathroom? I should just call the police and tell them about all that stalking you like to do.”

“Aren’t you tired of this childish game?” He hummed.

“Not really, seeing as I’m a child and I love games,” Danny sneered.

“I’m older, more experienced, and stronger. I am also patient, little badger. And it’s easy to wear you down. By the end of this trip, you are going to be begging to be my-.”

“Son? Pet? Little slave that does everything you ask? Sorry, Vladdy, but I ain’t the type to listen to crazy fruit loops. How about you go enjoy the company of your French rich friends like that Agreste dude instead of stalking me and trying to get with my mom and kill my dad. Might do you some good to make more friends than just your cat.”

“Oh Daniel, you throw your petty insults but I know ways to break you even further. You know, a lot of accidents happen in Paris. Terrible things.”

Danny felt his eyes flash as he spun on his heel, “listen to me, if you even consider-!”

“Not to mention your brand new ghostly responsibilities as… the ghost king? Imagine that. A child as the king. You don’t even know everything about ghosts.”

“Neither do you!” Danny spat.

“Oh but I know so much more. And I could easily teach you-.”

“Just shut up!”

“When you mess up, when the ghost zone begins to fall apart, you will wish you took my offer, but I may not be as forgiving when that happens.”

“I said shut up!”

“And we both know the moment the ghost zone falls apart, so will this world. All because a boy became king and didn’t take help he was so graciously offered.”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!”

Something inside him shifted, and Danny suddenly felt his mind cloud, a deep voice echoed his mind.

“A cruel man harassing a young teen that wants nothing to do with him. A shame when someone can’t take a hint.

Black Hole. I am Hawkmoth. I can give you the power to show this old man that he never should consider looking in your direction ever again.

All I ask is for Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous. Do this for me, and Vlad Masters will never be an issue for you ever again.”

Danny’s clouded mind and building rage smirked at the offer, his voice echoing as he glanced up at Vlad who was giving him a confused look. “Yes, Hawkmoth.”

Darkness engulfed him and then his memory began to fail him.

—————————————————————

A boomerang slammed into Black Hole’s head, causing it to jerk to the side and a small crack formed on the glass that was hit. The metal boomerang dropped to the ground and Black Hole slowly looked down at it as a robotic voice cried out from it, “ghost detected!” And then a recorded voice spouted out, “take that, spook!”

Black Hole’s head slightly tilted at the noise it made, a hand subconsciously rubbing the crack it left behind. Then he twisted his gaze back to Chat Noir, going back to taking the hero’s miraculous.

Then a shout came from behind Black Hole and Chat caught the eyes of a teenage girl yelling and holding a bat over her head. Black Hole twisted, his body turning that transparent look whenever Chat or Ladybug had tried to hit him before, and Chat knew that it was useless. “No! Stop! Get out of here-!” He screamed at the citizen, but stopped when the bat connected with the villain's head and sent him flying into a wall.

Chat was at a loss for words for once in his life, watching the villain slowly pry himself from the wall from being hit by a baseball bat when he and Lady couldn’t land a single hit. He looked back at the citizen and shrieked as she raised the bat above her head and swung down at him, flinching and squeezing his eyes shut. She hit something, causing it to shatter and then- his hand was free!

He opened his eyes and looked at his hand in awe and then back at the girl, “who the heck are you?”

She huffed, dropping the bat casually on her shoulder, “Sam Manson. Friend of the idiot that didn’t do his research before taking a trip here. I’m surprised this didn’t happen earlier.”

Chat blinked, “you- you know that’s your friend? And knew this would happen?”

Sam shrugged, “the booo-merang is never wrong. And yeah, my friend there is not exactly the most emotionally stable person on the planet. Sorry it took us a while to get here. You guys really do move fast.”

Chat just opened and closed his mouth a few times, then yelled as she suddenly swung the bat again and smacked the villain in the gut as he got close during their exchange, knocking him sideways but not down like the first time. Black Hole turned again, making a snarling sound before he was blasted by some sort of green ray and sent flying sideways, rolling along the pavement before smashing into a car. Another teen jogged over with Ladybug behind him, dropping his hands to his knees as he wheezed, “I have ran… way too much for this to be considered a vacation.”

“M’Lady-, what is going on?” Chat asked.

“This is Tucker, and his friend Sam, and they know how to help,” Ladybug quickly explained, glancing back at Black Hole. “We need to draw his attention and get that thermos off of him, then Sam and Tucker can use this,” she held up the thermos from her lucky charm, “and we can get his akuma.”

“Akuma is in the thermos, knock it off,” Chat summarized. He heard his miraculous beeping, a sign he was close to his limit.

“Let’s end this fast.”

—————————————————————

Ladybug held the booo-merang in one hand as the two teens and Chat drew Black Hole’s attention, the teens equipped with weapons that seemed to get past some of Black Holes abilities.

She narrowed her gaze, waiting for the perfect moment, then threw the weapon, watching it arch in the air then knock the thermos off of the villain's waist. The thermos clattered to the ground and drew his attention, he quickly twisted and dove to try and retrieve it, which was when a bright beam erupted from the polka dot thermos Ladybug had given the teens. The beam caught the villain's legs and he was tugged back, his form pulling towards it like taffy as he twisted and a horrid scream of anger burst from him. He tried to escape it, flailing and reaching for anything to hang on to, but in a matter of seconds he was pulled into the canister and Sam slammed the lid shut. The screaming stopped and Ladybug made her way over to Black Hole’s thermos, stomping on it and crushing it, releasing the Akuma hidden inside. With a flick of her wrist her lucky charm turned back into its original form, dumping Black Hole onto the street, then the butterfly was caught and purified, and another click of her miraculous, she let the little bug flutter away harmlessly. With a shout, ‘Miraculous Ladybug!’, everything around them was engulfed in black and red as the damages were undone around them.

At last, the villain's form was released of Hawkmoth's influence and it left a lanky teen laying on the street. He slowly sat up with a groan and a hand to his head and she then realized it was the same teen as from the shop. So once again, this was Chloe’s fault. She turned her attention to the two teens that helped her, noticing Chat let out a hasty farewell and thanks and disappeared around a corner. “Thank you, both of you. Without your help… well, without your help we may have lost that battle. But how in the world did you do that?”

“What the fuck just happened?” The teen groaned, “I feel like the booo-merang smacked me in the head like… fifty times.”

“That’s because I may have smacked you a few times with the fenton creep stick,” Sam shrugged as she helped her friend up who gave her wide eyes in return.

“You fucking what?”

Tucker took a step forward to answer Ladybug’s question, “let's just say back in our town, we have very specific supervillains that have abilities that make it hard for regular attacks to land. So we have specialized gear. Sam and I did a bit of research before heading here and figured if any of us got Akumatized, we may reflect some of those traits.”

“I… see…” Ladybug hummed, “and where did you say you were all from?” The three cast a few glances between each other, but before any of them could answer, her miraculous beeped angrily as she quickly realized she was out of time. “Thank you again for your help, if we could meet again to exchange some of that tech to make sure this never happens again-,” she quickly tried to set up a meet up before Sam held up a hand.

“This won’t happen again. A lot of what happened here is very unique to Amity, so once we finish our vacation, you won’t see this kind of thing ever again.”

Ladybug only had more questions but the angry beeping only forced her to nod and bid a quick farewell before getting out of sight to let Tiki take a rest. Marienette held out a few macaroons for Tiki as her thoughts swirled in her head. The questions about the odd American trio and how they knew how to deal with a villain as unique as Black Hole.

She may be able to corner them later. They did say they had to ‘finish their vacation.’

And in the meantime, it was time to do some research on this place called ‘Amity’.

—————————————————————

Danny didn’t remember a lot of what happened while he was the villain, Black Hole. It was like a dream, he kinda remembered the feeling, vague details, but nothing specific.

What he wished he remembered was whatever he did to Vlad. He must have done something because his memories cut out right after Vlad harassed him in the bathroom and after the event, the froot loop avoided him during the entire trip. Even refused to make eye contact!

What he would give just for a few seconds of that memory! Or for someone to have recorded it!

For now though he got to reap the rewards, flashing his eyes green when Vlad would glance over and causing the man to flinch. Oh man, he was going to abuse this newfound intimidation ability till the bitter end.

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sequinsmile-x · 3 years

Text

Guardian

A mini fic, that is largely fluffy. Because lord knows we all need it.

Words: 2.5k (not as mini as I first intended)

Warnings: Minor mention of injury, some curse words because of Emily’s potty mouth

Emily hated paperwork. It was, without a doubt, the most boring part of her job. She would usually spend days like this teasing Aaron, sending him texts throughout the day and watching him through the blinds of his office as he pretended not to react, letting the tension build until they got home.

“Where is our fearless leader?” Penelope asks as she stands by Emily’s desk, a file in hand.

“He’s at a parent teacher conference.” Emily answers, smiling at her friend. “Jack was thrilled that he was in town for it.”

“You didn’t go?” Penelope asks, curiosity on her face. Their relationship was something that fascinated the rest of the team, Emily knew that. They always tried to tease details out of her, acting as if her and Aaron weren’t two intensely private people. It had only got worse since they had moved in together, a house they had bought for them both to have a fresh start in.

“We thought it would be pushing it if both of us took the afternoon out.” Emily answers, almost feeling relief when her cell phone rings. “Agent Prentiss.”

“I’m calling to speak to Emily Prentiss?”

“Speaking.”

“My name is Natalie, I’m a nurse at Saint Sebastian Hospital, you’re listed as the next of kin for Aaron Hotchner?”

Emily felt like the air had been knocked out of her. “He’s my boyfriend. Is he ok?”

“He was involved in a car accident this afternoon, he’s been brought in.”

“Oh my god.” Emily exclaims, feeling the eyes of the rest of the team on her. “His son, Jack Hotchner, would have been with him. Is he ok?”

“I’m really sorry ma’am, I’m not at liberty to discuss any other patients.”

Emily bites back a retort, a demand to know about Jack, but she knows she won’t get anywhere over the phone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She hangs up the phone, tries to ignore the way her hands shake

“Everything ok there, princess?” Derek asks, as Penelope places a hand on her shoulder.

“Aaron’s been in an accident, Jack must have been with him but they wouldn’t tell me anything.” She stands, knocking Penelope’s hand off of her. “I need to go to the hospital, I need to see him.”

“I’ll drive you.” Derek says, standing himself.

“Derek, I’m fine.”

“Em, I am not letting you drive there. Ok? Hotch would never forgive me.”

Emily looks at him and nods, letting him guide her out of the bullpen.

________________

She approaches the nurses station, her body practically vibrating with different worse case scenarios over what could have happened to Aaron and Jack.

“Hi, I got a call about Aaron Hotchner.” She tries to keep her voice even and knows she has failed when Derek throws her a concerned look.

The nurse smiles reassuringly at her whilst looking at something on her computer. “He has just been sent back for some scans, but he’s doing ok. He was even arguing with my colleagues about how much he didn’t need to be here. He should be out in about 10 minutes.”

Emily breaths out a sigh of relief at that and feels Derek pat her back.

“See, Emily. Hotch is fine. Everything will be ok.”

“What about his son, Jack? He would have been in the car with him.” Emily says, her eyes searching the waiting room for the young boy.

“Are you his mother?”

Emily falters. “No. I’m not. I’m his dad’s girlfriend. I live with them.”

The nurse smiles at her again, but this time it seems forced. “I’m really sorry Ms…”

“Prentiss.” She says through slightly clenched teeth. “Agent Prentiss.”

“Agent Prentiss.” The nurse corrects herself, a slightly nervous look on her face. “I can only let a parent or guardian see him. If you aren’t his mom I’m going to have to ask you to-”

“His mom is dead.” Emily says, harsher than she intended to. She blows out a breath before she continues, attempting to calm herself down a little. “His aunt, Jessica Brooks, is out of town.” Emily says, desperately trying to keep her cool. She reaches into her bag, pulls out her wallet and slams her driving license on the table between her and the nurse, pointing out her place of residence. “I live in the same house as him. I poured him a bowl of cheerios this morning.”

“Agent Prentiss.” The nurse says, her voice remaining so patient Emily wanted to vault over the table between them and hit her. “Be that as it may, you are not his legal guardian, so I cannot let you back there to see him until his father is here.”

Emily has another idea, and reaches for the FBI credentials she has on her belt, but Derek stops her. His hand grabs her arm before she can threaten someone in a way that her boyfriend would have to reprimand her for as her boss later.

“Princess, come on.” Derek says as he gently pulls her towards the waiting area. “Let’s just sit down and chill out.”

Emily sits in one of the plastic chairs and puts her head in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. Derek puts his hand on her back, rubs comforting circles between her shoulder blades. Time moves like syrup, and the fear of not seeing either Jack or Aaron burns through her. She eventually checks the time on her watch and blows out a breath.

“This is fucking bullshit.” She seethes. “Jack will be back there by himself. God knows where Aaron is.” She says, her voice wavering at the mention of her boyfriend. “They said he’d only be 10 minutes at least half an hour ago.”

“Jack will be fine.” Derek tries to comfort. “He’s a good kid.”

“He is 8, Derek.” She bites at her thumb, worrying the cuticle between her teeth. “This is ridiculous. I live with him. I make him breakfast every morning.”

“Pouring cereal into a bowl hardly counts as making breakfast, Em.” He says, trying to lighten her mood. She sharply turns her head to look at him, a warning look on her face that has him holding his hands up in surrender. “Ok I get it, no jokes.”

She lowers her gaze back to her lap. “Do you know it’s me that Jack wants if he’s sick, or hurt?” She asks, and briefly looks at him to see him shake his head.”

“Em?”

She looks up to see Aaron walking towards them. If Emily had been at 100%, if the fear coursing through her veins hadn’t been so sharp, she would have noticed the stiffness in his walk, how much pain he was clearly in. The relief that flooded through her was so fast she almost felt dizzy.

“Aaron.” Emily was up and in his arms before she knew what was happening, hitting his body with a force that made him grunt, knocking the air out of him as she wraps her arms around him tightly. She pulls back. “Oh god, I’m sorry.”

“Em, it’s fine. My ribs are sore, that's all.” He puts a hand on her lower back and stops her from pulling away any further, her eyebrow raised in disbelief. His voice is strained, discomfort laced through it. She lifts her hand to trace her fingers over a bandaged cut on his forehead just above his eyebrow. “My head hit the steering wheel.” He grabs her hand from his face and presses a kiss to her fingers, a promise that they will talk about it later, once they are home. “Where’s Jack?”

Emily scoffs, a look shot back at the nurse who was still at the nurses station. “They wouldn’t let me see him.” She clears her throat as she looks back at her boyfriend. “I’m not his guardian.”

Another moment of silent discussion passes between them, something else they can talk about later when they are alone. When they are safe at home and their every move wasn’t being watched by Derek, curiosity on his face at how they were around each other that they both hadn’t missed.

“He was ok when we came in.” He assures her, seeing how concerned she looked. “They were going to look at his arm, it looked broken.”

Emily nods, some of the concern seeping away. Aaron links his fingers through hers and gives Derek a nod as they walk past him, a silent thank you for looking after Emily when he couldn’t. Aaron approaches the nurses station and clears his throat, getting the attention of the same nurse who Emily had spoken to earlier.

“I’d like to see my son, Jack Hotchner.”

They are quickly taken to Jack who looks just as relieved to see them as they do to see him, and they sit with him as he gets an arm cast put on. Aaron sits in a chair, failing to cover the wince that escapes him as he lowers himself into it. Emily sits next to Jack on the bed, wrapping an arm around him and pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he tries to be brave, pretending he hadn’t been crying whilst waiting for them to come get him.

Jack burrows into Emily’s side as the doctors gently wrap his arm, and she can’t help herself when she throws the same nurse who refused her access to Jack a look when she walks by the bay they are in.

________________

Emily convinces Aaron to go grab a shower as she tucks Jack in for the night, his arm in it’s bright green cast resting on a pillow. It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep, the stress of the day taking all of the endless energy he usually had. Emily sneaks out of the room, gently pulling the door closed behind her as she goes.

She sighs as she walks the short distance to the master bedroom, the shower still running in the ensuite. Emily sits on the end of the bed and puts her head in her hands, tries to force back the emotion that was threatening to overwhelm her, the knowledge of what she could have lost today settling over her now they were home. Emily hears the shower switch off and she blows out a breath, trying to centre herself.

Emily can’t stop the gasp that escapes when he walks out, just with a pair of sweatpants on, and she sees the extent of the damage for the first time. The bruise across his chest caused by the seat belt looked painful, his ribs almost black, clearly fractured.

“Aaron.” She says softly, her hand reaching out but stopping just shy of actually touching him.

“It’s ok, Em.” He grabs the hand she's got hovering near him and intertwines their fingers, squeezes her hand in a way she’s sure is meant to be reassuring.

“Ok?” She asks, scoffing at him. “You clearly have broken ribs, Aaron.” She shakes her head at him, interrupts him when he tries to placate her again. “Nothing about today was ok.”

Aaron cups her face in both hands, wiping away a tear that she wasn’t aware had fallen until his thumb stroked her cheek.

“Emily, Jack and I are both fine.” He leans forward and kisses her forehead, and she brings her hands to his wrists, stroking the delicate skin there. “We’re a little banged up, but nothing that won’t get better.”

She nods against him. “I...I know I’m not his mother.” She pulls away to smile at him, and she bites her lip in an attempt to stop it from shaking. “But not being able to see Jack today really sucked. I live with him, I love him, Aaron. I should be able to see him when he’s hurt.”

“Em-”

“If you’d been hurt worse, or killed.” Emily feels more tears fall at that, shakes her head at herself. “I wouldn’t have been able to go to him.”

“Emily.” He strokes her cheek again, a smile on his face that always calmed her. “I agree with you.”

She furrows her brow, having clearly expected more of a pushback. “What?”

“We should make you his legal guardian. We probably should have done it when we got the house.”

“Really?” I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take Haley’s place.”

“Sweetheart, you have never done that. You love my son, and he loves you. It makes me love you more. We’ll get it sorted.”

“I love you.” She says, leaning forward to kiss him, keeping it brief and laughing when she pulls away from him when he tries to kiss her again. “Don’t get any ideas, Agent Hotchner. Those ribs of yours have put you out of action for quite some time.” She laughs at him as she pulls herself out of his embrace. “I’m going to get changed for bed.”

Emily grabs some pyjamas and busies herself in the ensuite, ignoring his shirt in the hamper that had his blood on it. She goes about her evening routine, takes off her makeup and brushes her teeth, piling her hair on top of her head in a messy bun. She sighs as she looks at herself in the mirror, taking in just how tired she looked. All she wanted to do was get in bed with her boyfriend, make sure he took a painkiller he’d probably attempt to say he didn’t need, and fall asleep.

When she walks in and finds him sitting on the edge of his side of the bed, still only in his sweatpants, with a small velvet box in his hands it stops her in her tracks.

“Aaron.”

“I had a whole plan.” He says, looking up at her. He stays sat on the bed, and she knows it’s partially because he’d be in too much pain to stand up. “It seems silly now.”

“It’s not silly.” Emily says, her throat feeling like it was constricting, the emotion rising in her chest. She stands in front of him, catches the hand not holding the ring box in hers. She links their fingers.

“I’d get down on one knee but I don’t think I’d ever get back up.” Aaron jokes, and it makes her choke out a laugh that becomes a sob on its way out.

“That’s ok.” Emily sits next to him on the bed.

He opens the box and she gasps when she sees the ring. Simple, platinum band with a good sized single diamond. Exactly what she would have picked herself.

“Emily, marry me.”

She laughs. “I think it’s meant to be a question, honey.”

Aaron smiles at her, his dimples out on display. “Will you marry me?”

“Of course I will.” She replies, cupping his cheek in her hand. “Yes.”

He kisses her, and she responds, pushing herself closer to him, her hand travelling to the back of his head. They both get lost in it for a moment until he groans in pain, making her pull back from him.

“I didn’t think this all the way through.” He says, smiling at her as he pulls the ring out of the box and slips it onto her finger. “My plans involved celebrating with a lot of sex.”

Emily laughs and rests her forehead against his. “All in good time my love.”

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss mini fic #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #fluff #minor aaron hotchner whump #its just fluff guys #lots of fluff #CM fan fic #Criminal Minds fluff

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winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

advocate.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: the very first part of ajf! the beginning of our story! oh my goodness! this got a little long, but there was a lot i wanted to pack in here. thank you all for your patience as i worked through this <3 i’ve got some fun graphics in here for you - open them for best quality!

words: 8.45k warnings: language, alcohol use, canon-typical descriptions of injury and violence, mention of suicide

summary: “our ambition should be to rule ourselves, the true kingdom for each one of us; and true progress is to know more, and be more, and to do more.” - oscar wilde. au!july-september 2007

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

“Director Shepard?”

You approach her, feeling very young, with a question and a smile.

She turns, smiling at you softly. “Yes?”

Her lecture was immaculate - she covered a broad swath of topics - being the first female director of NCIS, her history in international relations and liaison work with British and Israeli intelligence - all of which paved a bit of a roadmap for success in federal law enforcement.

You introduce yourself and shake her hand. “I’ve gotta tell you it was a challenge to choose between agencies in my applications, I admire your work both as an agent and director of NCIS and I was wondering…”

You lose your nerve a bit, but steel yourself again and ask.

“... Would you be willing to meet with me and talk about your career trajectory a little more?”

There’s a light in her eyes as she studies you with a kind of supreme benevolence and gentleness. “I would.”

+++

“Alright,” she says, setting her napkin in her lap. “What do you want to know?”

You laugh a little, “Is everything a good place to start?”

She laughs, and you’re immediately drawn to her warmth. There’s a kind of fire in her, and it doesn’t just come from her hair. “Not at all. Though I’ll give you some unsolicited advice now, to save some time. Find someone you can follow, someone you can learn from.”

She goes on to tell you about her mentor, still on the Major Case Response Team under her purview at NCIS. Though she’s his boss now, she tells you that she still goes to him for advice, for friendship.

“Trusting the people you work with always comes first. It’s not always possible, but when you can manage it. It makes everything better. Always protect them where you can, and don’t ignore the politics”

You do everything except take notes as she tells more stories, how she’s switched from “probie” to Agent to diplomat to Director, before she turns back to you.

“Do you know which unit you’re interested in, yet?”

You shake your head. “Not yet. I’m hoping I’ll have a better idea when the Quantico unit chiefs start coming in to lecture. I’m hoping one of them will catch my interest.”

“Great idea. When one of them does, give me a call. I think any unit could benefit from someone like you.”

+++

Agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Gideon have your attention the moment they step into the room. They’re confident, with a sharp kind of intelligence you admire.

The world of the BAU is fascinating. Serial killers, sex criminals, the very worst of depraved humanity is their everyday. While it sounds somewhat horrifying, it compels you.

Agent Hotchner especially catches your attention. He’s confident in a kind of serious, bladed way. Clearly intelligent, he commands the attention of everyone in the room and effortlessly wields his authority among curious students and his fellow agents.

You’d think Agent Gideon would be the obvious leader, what with all his years of experience and seniority, but even with his grasp of a field he shaped, he doesn’t hold a candle to Hotchner.

With your half-hour-old knowledge, you put together a quick profile of the remaining figure.

Agent Morgan, while strong and clearly an alpha male, brings a skepticism with him. It hangs in the air around him and seems to apply to both of his colleagues. There’s something about Agent Gideon that makes him uneasy, distrustful. He tends to shift his weight away from him when they get too close to each other.

He’s not overt about his skepticism regarding Agent Hotchner, but you get the idea there’s more under the surface you couldn’t possibly know just by studying his behavior in a lecture hall.

This is fun.

You hide your smile in your notebook, jotting down a couple of notes as Agent Gideon continues his “brief overview of profile-driven serial killer arrests.”

+++.

“Director Shepard’s office.”

“Hi Cynthia,” you greet her secretary. “Is Director Shepard in?”

She connects you, and you ask about the BAU.

“Is Jason Gideon still the unit chief over there?” She asks. You can already hear her typing and you’re more than a little concerned about her tenacity in this moment.

“No, ma’am, it’s Agent Hotchner, now.”

“Perfect.”

+++

You’re called into SSA Radner’s office the following Monday to “discuss some changes to your academy courses.”

That doesn’t sound good.

SSA Radner, an imposing and intimidating woman, is the SSAIC in charge of your NAT class - the person in charge of your collective fates.

No pressure.

She opens the door when you knock, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

You chuckle nervously. “Thanks, Agent Radner.” You note her little smile as she sits at her desk, and chance a question. “Have I done something, I dunno, wrong? We don’t seem to find much good news in the SAIC’s office at my rank.”

That pulls a laugh from her. “I wouldn't worry too much. I have a proposition for you. It’s...unusual, but not unheard of.”

Your brow crumples a little and she exhales.

“It might actually be better if - yeah. Hold on.” She clicks her intercom and her assistant chirps from the other side.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Please send them in. I’d like to do a joint briefing.”

Joint briefing? What is this, the third invasion of Iraq?

The door opens behind you and you whip around, finding Agent Hotchner and IOS Section Chief Erin Strauss.

What the fuck?

Either you’ve done something terrible or insane and you’re not sure which.

Chief Strauss addresses you first, shaking your hand. You introduce yourself for good measure but have a feeling she already knows who you are.

“It’s come to our attention that you have ambitious interests and are taking exceptional steps to make the most of your education and training at the academy. Is this a fair assessment?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Agent Hotchner steps forward, sort of looming over you with something that isn’t quite a stern look. You take his hand when he offers, introducing yourself and ignoring the jolt of energy that shoots up your arm at his touch.

His handshake is firm, his hands dry and warm. He looks different up close, younger, maybe. There’s the barest touch of grey at his temples, the beginnings of lines around his mouth and eyes.

Not what I expected.

What did you expect?

How old could he be? Thirty-five, maybe?

Shut up.

He’s handsome.

Shut up!

His face relaxes a little bit before he speaks. “Director Shepard, a close professional colleague, has been a staunch advocate for you and your talents. She approached me about taking you on, giving you case hours in lieu of some coursework.”

“You’d have some catching up to do, as it’s already three weeks into your twenty, and we’d transfer you into the profiling classes,” Agent Radner adds. “But with your diligence, I doubt you’ll have trouble with the added workload.”

“No, ma’am. That should be fine. But,” you look between the three of them, “what does ‘case hours in lieu of some coursework’ mean, exactly?”

“You’d be on assignment with the BAU until you received your formal assignment following successful completion of the academy, with the possibility of assignment with the BAU as a full-fledged agent.” Chief Strauss rattles off the information as if it’s the thousandth time she’s said it.

It might be.

You can’t even fathom how much effort and time must have gone into this decision. The realization leaves you speechless.

She prompts you again. “Does that sound like an opportunity in which you’d be interested?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” You feel a little stupid, but you’re rewarded with a proud smile from Agent Radner.

You could also swear you saw a twitch of Agent Hotchner’s lips, but he doesn’t seem to be a man who smiles much.

+++

“So this’ll be your desk,” Agent Jennifer-but-my-friends-call-me-JJ Jareau says, pointing to one of the many desks in the bullpen.

You set your bag down with a little smile, feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

Agent Morgan pats your shoulder as he passes your desk. “You’ll do just fine, kid. Ready for a case briefing in ten?”

“Sure.”

His blinding smile eats up his whole face and you like him already. He’s different than you thought he’d be, but you still don’t think your preliminary profile was too far off.

Agent Gideon, still holed up in his office, has yet to acknowledge you.

Your eyes keep wandering to the open blinds, behind which Agent Hotchner and a woman you understand to be his wife have a quiet, apparently heated argument on either side of his desk. Except for the tight set of her mouth and the angry glint in her eye, she seems lovely.

Derek follows your gaze. “Wasn’t always like that.”

You look at him, a little furrow in your brow.

Should he be telling me this?

“She’s not always here either, but their son, Jack, has been sick, so it’s been… tense.” Derek shakes his head. “You wouldn’t catch me married in this job, not once.”

That pulls a laugh from you.

Emily, sitting at the desk beside you, turns in her chair. “Remind me to drink to that later.”

Derek snorts and picks up a couple of files, headed up to the round table room.

+++

Your first case briefing is, well...brief. The case seems fairly straightforward and you run through relevant vocabulary while JJ outlines the case details.

Preferential offender, keeps his victims for no more than three days, victims found in public places.

He wants them found, and fast.

Need-based, maybe? What are his priors?

You’re all dismissed with a brisk, “Wheels up in thirty.”

You pack your things a little slower than probably called for. Hotch disappears into his office again, closing the door behind him. When you pass the window, his wife is tucked under his chin.

Hotch’s eyes flicker to yours and you quickly train your gaze on the floor, hustling down the stairs.

+++

You land next to each other when you board the plane. You do your best to avoid taking anyone's assigned seat.

With a team of this size, you can only assume they have such things.

And they do.

Gideon, Spencer, Morgan, and Prentiss take a seat at the table while JJ perches on the arm of the couch.

Hotch settles at the informal “head” of the table, leaning on the chairs across the aisle. You take a seat in one of the chairs in the row next to him, trying to stay out of the way.

“C’mere, kid,” Derek says, beckoning you forward. “You’re on this team.”

You shuffle forward in your seat, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees and case file open in your hands. “I’m ready.”

JJ smiles at you, and you almost feel comfortable.

+++

You end up alone with Hotch in the precinct conference room after you land, unboxing files and sorting them for Spencer. Until you know enough to make yourself useful, you’ve made it your mission to handle the tedious and the clerical.

Hotch pauses every once in a while as if he wants to say something. You continue on your way. When he’s ready, he’ll stop you.

“I’m sorry about earlier. My wife, Haley, she -”

You look up, waving him off with a little smile. “It’s okay, Hotch. It’s none of my business.”

He looks at you for a minute, studying your face with a bit of a squint. “You mean that.”

It’s not a question.

You’re confused.

“Of course.” A nervous laugh leaves you. “I mean, you’re welcome to tell me if you want, but it’s nothing I need to speculate or gossip about or, God forbid, profile.”

The shock and relief war on his face until it settles back into something that looks like his usual severity, but a little softer. He doesn't say anything else, but you have the sneaking suspicion you passed a test neither one of you prepared for.

Spencer and Emily return from their trip to the medical examiner’s office.

“Who organized these?” Spencer asks, pointing at the neat piles you made.

“Me.” You look up from another box you’re working on. “Would it be helpful if they’re sorted another way? I went chronologically and then by number and type of offenses, with preferential offenders that match the M.O. on top, when possible.”

Emily, Hotch, and Spencer freeze, staring at you like you grew another head in front of them.

You’re suddenly and violently self-conscious. “What?”

Spencer snaps out of it first, shaking his head and picking up a stack. “Nothing that’s just...um…”

“Exactly right,” Emily supplies. She glances at Hotch before looking back at you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Hotch is the last to break, but the curious little glances he keeps throwing your way always linger a little too long.

To your credit, you ignore them.

+++

“So, how are you liking it so far?” Derek slides into the driver’s seat and rolls out of the parking lot.

You’re headed to another witness’s house under direct orders to observe and as a few (carefully directed) questions. Derek insisted on bringing you himself while the others keep busy with something else.

“I’m liking it,” you reply.

He laughs. “Coulda fooled me.”

You screw up your face and look over at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says through a laugh, “when you’re not making yourself ridiculously useful, you look terrified.”

“I am terrified.”

“Nothin’ to be scared of as long as you keep asking questions,” he says.

It’s almost like he doesn’t know how ridiculous he sounds.

“You’re joking, right?” You turn to face him, shifting in your seat. “Agent Morgan -”

He cuts you off. You’re pretty sure that’s just how he is - he interrupts the other members of the team frequently and fearlessly. “- Derek. Or Morgan.”

“Fine. Morgan, you have to know that your team is legendary. I don’t even know why -”

“- Don’t say it.” He flags his hand before putting it back on the wheel. “You’re here for a reason, and none of us are going to let you fall so hard you can’t pick yourself up, okay?” He glances over, meeting your eyes. “We’ve got your back.”

You quirk a smile. “Thanks.”

“And,” he adds, “Hotch seems to like you alright. That’s half the battle.”

“What’s the other half?”

He snorts. “Gideon. And local law enforcement.”

+++

You settle in a little easier after that. JJ’s your next target as you help her make some calls to the D.A.’s office.

You hang up and take a breath, slumping back in your chair. It’s been a long day already and it’s not even lunchtime.

“Hanging in there?” JJ asks, smiling at you over her files.

You nod. “Yeah. Just a… different kind of energy than the academy, I think.”

“I felt that way when I got here, too. Gideon was unit chief back then and Spence had just started, too.” She huffs a laugh. “It was a little easier when there were more newbies, but then…” Her face clouds over and she shakes her head.

“Then...what?”

She looks up at you and her mouth twists. “Boston.”

+++

“Hey, Derek?”

“Yeah?” He keeps his eyes on the road, but he can hear the trepidation in your voice.

The dark interior of the car feels safe in the early hours of the morning, headed back to the hotel. “You said I could ask you anything, right?”

His eyebrows pinch. “Shoot.”

“What happened in Boston?”

Derek takes a breath and lets it out in a whoosh. “I wasn’t there. I was supposed to be there.”

You wait on him, watching him watch the road.

“Unsub holed himself up in a massive warehouse. Gideon called in all the support he could - A Team, B Team, SWAT, the whole nine. I was visiting my mom in Chicago for her birthday like I do every year.”

He stops at a red light, and you take a moment to look past him into the adjacent SUV, where Emily and Hotch’s profiles rest in a statuesque silhouette, backlit by the streetlamp.

“It was a trap from the start. Everyone pushed in on Gideon’s order and the whole thing just…” He tosses his hand up and it lands with a smack on the leather steering wheel. “It just went up. Boom. Six BAU agents in our unit, dead, just like that. Had to rebuild from scratch.”

You shiver, though the car is warm. “I’m so sorry, Derek.”

He shrugs. “Gideon took six months off, Hotch took over. Gideon came back, Hotch stayed up front.” He smiles a little. “Haley wasn’t happy, but that’s the job.”

Why does it always come back to Haley? To Hotch?

Because he’s the unit chief.

I know but…

Don’t read into it.

You decide to push, just because it’s Derek, because he seems to know, because you feel safe with him, because it might be a mistake. “Is that what you meant?”

“Hm?” His head turns just a little toward you, his brow furrowed.

“You told me on my first day ‘It wasn’t always like this.’ Is that what you meant?”

“No sane man would take on the unit chief position with a wife and baby on the way.” He shrugs and with a secret little smile says, “But nobody ever accused Hotch of being sane.”

+++

Aaron sits in front of his computer, the end of his pen tapping on the glossy wood of his desk.

Does he have feedback? He’s not sure.

Even with your limited knowledge, you’ve managed to optimize most of the administrative bullshit and political nonsense that clogs most local investigations. You bounce between acting as his shadow and JJ’s, making friends and soothing hurts when toes inevitably get stepped on.

You’ve immediately adapted to his style of criticism and correction, using Derek and Spencer as guide-rails when you’re not sure where you’re going.

There’s nothing to complain about.

But then again…

Feedback isn’t just about the negative.

If he’s honest with himself, he knows he won’t shower you in the glowing praise you deserve. Gideon never did for him or anyone that came after.

It’s not in their nature, or his.

He starts to type.

Glancing out his office window, his eyes find you hunched over your desk, poring over one of Spencer’s notebooks, a pinch in your brow as deep as the Grand Canyon.

You work hard, impossibly hard. You throw everything you have at your work in the field while managing your courses and keeping up with your classmates.

That in mind, he drafts an email to Jenny.

With a sigh, he sends it.

He’s still thinking of what you said on the last case, the genuine truth of it, and how many times he has done his best to preempt the gossip that plagues this office, no matter who it’s about.

This unit, as much of a family as it may be, constantly wraps itself in the business of everyone else. To know you couldn’t give less of a shit about his marriage when the rest of the team (save Gideon) probably has money on when Haley calls it quits is, admittedly, refreshing.

+++

After being in the field, classes take on a new kind of banality. You’re keeping up well enough, but watching Gideon and Derek quarrel over the details of a profile beats diving into the techniques - you guessed it - Gideon developed from cases past.

Hotch and Garcia were gracious enough to CC you on emails while you were grounded at the academy, but it wasn’t the same.

It was hard not to feel left behind, like the last kid chosen for dodgeball in PE class, watching the rest of the unit leave the office. You hung back in the bullpen as long as you could find something to do this morning, making it to class at the very last minute.

Even after lectures, your classmates want nothing more than your attention. You’re suddenly consulting on three different practicals and never have a lunch to yourself.

Most afternoons, you sneak into the bullpen just for some peace and quiet.

You hear your last name and look up, finding Erin Strauss approaching you. You stand. “Ma’am.”

“What are you working on?”

You look down at your desk, finding practical and theoretical exam notes shuffled around next to mock consults and other nonsense Hotch dropped on his way to the jet earlier in the week. “Course work, mostly. It’s nice to… get away every once in a while.”

Erin nods with a little smile. “I’d imagine you’ve been pretty popular lately.”

You shrug, a little facetious. “You could say that.”

She pays your shoulder in a surprisingly maternal gesture, before wishing you luck and leaving you to your work.

At this point, you can’t even imagine just being an FBI agent.

+++

You’ve just closed your burning, tired eyes when your phone rings.

You answer, your last name a grumble into the mic.

“It’s Hotch.”

You sit up straight in bed, immediately awake. “Sorry, sir, I -“

“I should apologize. I don’t mean to interrupt your studying or wake you but I think I could use your opinion on this profile.”

You frown in the dark, flipping your desk lamp on. “My help, sir?”

“Yeah.” He heaves a sigh and you can almost see the fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been looking at it too long.”

“Maybe Derek, can -“

“No. You. Here, listen -“

He rattles off the details of the case and you snatch your notebook and pen off the desk, jotting things down as Hotch continues through the case.

“Have you identified and contacted local individuals who fit the victimology, taken steps to protect them? He’s a preferential offender with a predictable cooling-off period, right?”

For some reason, this isn’t half as exhausting as the practical exam practice you’d been working on for the last five hours. You may or may not have written those exact questions about fifteen times, but it’s far less exhausting when directed at Hotch.

“Yeah. Two high-risk victims are in protective custody and JJ’s been in touch since this morning.”

You go through a few more basic questions, getting your feet under you, before asking the one you’re really after.

“Sir, why did you call me?”

“I needed another set of eyes.”

You huff a laugh. “No, I gathered that, but why did you call me? I’m in the middle of learning about something you’ve been doing for…” You search for a number, but your brain is fried.

“Too long,” he supplies.

“Sure. But my point stands.”

“That it does.” Something creaks in the background and you imagine he’s leaned back in his chair.

“Did I help?” You’re happy he can’t see your dubious, if not entirely doubtful, expression.

He’s happy you can’t see the little fond smile on his face. “Yes, actually. You did.”

+++

“Wheels up in thirty.”

You all stand from the table and start your routines. Emily and Spencer make a beeline for the coffee machine while JJ jets back to her office for contact sheets and files and all manner of coordinating materials.

Derek’s routine is simple enough - he already has his coffee and his go bag, so he’s answering a few emails before wheels up.

You never really know what to do during this liminal space, so you stick to classwork.

Much to your surprise, you’ve shot ahead in your classes on the shoulders of Derek and Spencer. They’ve been monumentally helpful with the history and application of profiling techniques (though much of Derek’s advice has been ‘just watch Gideon,’ you’re not sure how to watch a process that takes place entirely inside the man’s head).

You ride with Hotch to the airstrip, looking out the window most of the way. It’s only a five minute drive, but the tree-lined roads around Quantico are always lovely this time of the morning.

As always, you do your best to stay out of the way on the plane, taking up residence on Hotch’s right with your notebook and case file.

You offer some thoughts here and there, not pushing too much or saying enough to make an ass of yourself.

When Hotch calls break, the rest of the team scatters to their respective corners.

Gideon turns to you, gesturing with one finger. “Hey, ah…”

Spencer chirps your last name from across the cabin and you shoot him a grateful smile.

“Good job in the briefing, today.”

And with that, he disappears to the far side of the cabin, leaving you and Hotch alone by the table.

“Wow,” you say with a little smile. “I didn’t know he was aware of my existence.”

Hotch doesn’t say anything, but his lips twitch.

Success.

+++

“Welcome back, kiddo!” Derek offers you fist and you bump your knuckles against his on your way back to your desk. “How’d those exams go?”

You huff, playing at defeat. “Oh, you know.”

“Don’t worry about it. There’s always next time.”

Hotch, returning from a meeting with Strauss, hardly looks up from the file in his hand when he says, “Well done on your exams. SSA Radner threatened to hang your marksmanship targets on her wall.”

You hide a smile. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“Not fair!” Spencer says, tossing another Tums in his mouth. “I never passed those.”

“Then how on earth do you have that, Reid?” You point at his six-shooter, still clipped to his hip.

“Wait wait wait,” JJ says, dropping her files and crossing her arms. “You haven’t heard that story?”

Your eyes flicker from Derek, to JJ, to Spencer, and back. “...No.”

JJ settles in, regaling you with a wild tale of an L.D.S.K. -

“You remember what that stands for, right?” Derek points at you and you have a feeling this is about to become some kind of pop quiz.

“Yeah. Long Distance Serial Killer.”

“Good. Famous unsubs include…?”

You sit back in your chair with a little smirk on your face. “D.C. Snipers Muhammad and Malvo, active October 2002, seventeen victims total. Apprehended by agents from the FBI Baltimore field office -”

Derek holds up a finger. “And?”

“- and the BAU and the Maryland State Police.”

“Good.”

JJ waits for Derek to nod at her and she continues what you imagine to be a rather embellished version of a story in which Hotch and Reid save the day.

“...And then Hotch just starts kicking the shit out of Spencer -”

Hotch’s office door shuts and he sails down the stairs with one of those little secret smiles. “This one ends with Reid stealing my sidearm and shooting the unsub in the head.” He taps right between his eyebrows in the barest of pauses on his way out of the bullpen. “Dead center.”

Derek and JJ groan, both whining about how he ruined the punchline before devolving into a fit of giggles. You can almost see the smirk on his face as he pushes through the glass door and turns the corner.

You join in the mirth, ruffling Reid’s hair. He smiles widely at you.

Maybe you could just get used to this place.

+++

The second round of classes on top of added case hours (you’re traveling with the unit more often than not) nearly brings you to the brink.

On the plane back to Quantico, you realize you can’t remember the last time you actually had a full night of sleep.

The rest of the unit is out cold, curled into themselves or stretched out under blankets, save for Hotch and Gideon.

Gideon’s writing in that wretched notebook again, entirely focused on his work under the weak reading light.

Aaron sits beside you on the other side of the cabin, looking over a few files before returning home. You watch him check his watch, sigh, shrug, and pull out his phone. To your surprise, he doesn’t move to give himself space as he calls his wife.

“Hey, honey, it’s me… Yeah, we’re on the plane. Should be back within the next hour and a half... “

He sighs and tightly closes his eyes. “Haley, please… Yes, I know Jack’s already asleep… Are you implying I didn’t do my damnedest to - Then what’s your point?...”

His voice never once rises above a low murmur. It’s impressive.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can… No, I won’t pass ‘Go’ or collect two-hundred dollars or step foot into my office… Yes. Plane. Tarmac. Car. Home… Yeah… Love you too.”

He snaps his phone shut and leans back, tipping his head against the headrest.

You stay quiet, continuing your review of S.S.A. Bailey’s course on, ironically, conflict de-escalation.

Hotch takes a talking breath and you look over at him, keeping a kind of soft understanding on your face - really, shooting for anything that isn’t curiosity.

“I appreciate your…” He looks for a word. “Discretion.”

You laugh a little down your nose. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s none of my business?”

“How many times do I have to imply that a phrase like that isn’t in the vocabulary of this team, usually?” He shifts a little, and you notice his thumb, running along his forefinger like he’s searching for bone.

“Is it really that bad?”

Hotch raises his eyebrows, and you relent.

“Fine.” You drop your voice. “Do you want to know what I’ve seen?”

He shrugs. “An outside perspective might be nice.”

You keep your eyes on your book as you speak, keeping your volume low and your tone as neutral as you can.

“I’ve seen how Emily worries about fitting in - I can’t help but relate. This team is a family and it’s… hard to break through that sort-of-wall to the outside world.”

The prickly feeling of his eyes on you isn’t altogether unpleasant, but you still haven’t grown used to it.

“Derek and Spencer are worried about Gideon and,” you glance at him briefly, “so are you. Everyone seems to want to know why, but I don't think that’s always useful.”

Hotch hums once, maybe in agreement - you’re not too sure.

You are sure, though, that this was a test.

“How’d I do, Counselor?”

It’s never too early to invoke the J.D. hanging in a frame behind his desk. It was the first thing you noticed and suddenly, a lot more made sense.

You’re rewarded with a small smile. “Not bad. Though you did forget to drop in the little bit about my marriage.”

“I didn’t forget,” you assure him.

“No?”

“No. I figure if you have something to say, you seem like the kind of person who’d just say it. At least,” you shrug, “that’s my impression.”

He’s quiet for a minute before he squints and looks over your shoulder at your reading. His brown eyes track down the page before returning to yours. He’s close to you, but you’re not uncomfortable.

Hotch is...safe. Somehow.

“There’s a reason you’re the exception. Not sure what it is yet,” he says. “But there’s a reason.”

“What?”

He leans back, a cryptic little smile on his face, and says nothing else for the rest of the flight.

+++

“Hotch, are you sure it’s not a trick question?”

“The questions aren’t designed to trick you,” comes a voice from the doorway. To your surprise, it’s Gideon. “They’re designed to stretch and reveal your instincts. No right answer.”

The corners of his mouth turn down while his eyebrows rise in that kind of halfway-encouraging look he sometimes gets. “Just go with your gut.”

He disappears and you turn back to Hotch, scribbling away in a file.

“He’s right.”

Your brain feels less and less bound to your body as the days pass. “Am I nuts, or is that the most words he’s strung together since I got here, combined?”

What you now know to be a smile twitches at Hotch’s mouth. “You’re not nuts.”

You sigh and turn your attention back to your mock exam, twiddling your pencil between your fingers. “I’m sorry to keep bugging you with homework - it feels like cheating.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “Resourcefulness is not cheating. If it was, I’d have to go back and get my J.D. out of a Cracker Jack box.”

You muffle a laugh.

He checks his watch. “I have a check-in with the budget office in five minutes. You’re welcome to stay right where you are, but it’ll be boring and I plan to do a lot of pacing.”

You hold your hands up in surrender and settle in.

Friday afternoons in the office feel a lot like Saturdays in the office - which is to say, nothing happens at all. The rest of the team is catching up on paperwork while Gideon walks laps with his little notebook.

Not three minutes into his conversation, Hotch stands and begins to pace, as promised.

"No, we can't cut the technology budget... Because if the BAU gets called to a remote region, we need to have immediate access to satellite phones and our technical analyst… Yes… Send the budget to the Director, and I'm certain it'll come back approved without changes… The arrest and prosecution rate of this unit is -”

His desk phone rings and he gestures for you to pick it up.

“Agent Hotchner’s office,” you say with more than a little trepidation. You’re definitely not qualified to answer the unit chief’s phone.

“Goddamn it, Aaron why can’t you -” She pauses. “Wait. Sorry. Who is this?”

You introduce yourself. “I’m currently on-assignment with the unit. It’s… unconventional.”

“Hm. Why are you answering Aaron’s phone?” Her tone isn’t accusatory - it’s more curious than that. You’d imagine this doesn’t happen all that often. He’s either at his desk, or he’s not at his desk.

She calls him Aaron.

You’re not sure why that surprises you. They’re married, and he has a first name.

Taking a look across the room, you watch Hotch’s profile as he continues to defend the budget he submitted.

Aaron.

You make an attempt to see the man behind the suit, the man who goes home to his wife and son when he can.

“I’m using his office to study for my academy exams. I’ll see if I can reach Agent Hotchner for you. Just a second.”

She snorts something that could be a laugh if it wasn’t so sharp. “Thanks.”

Hotch looks over and squints at you, mouthing, Who is it?

You put her on hold and answer in a stage whisper. “It’s your wife.”

Hotch freezes for just a second - it almost looks like he’s rebooting.

He blinks three times in rapid succession before he pulls the phone away from his mouth. “Tell her I’m in a meeting. I’ll call her back.” You move to reach for the phone but he holds up a finger and you freeze. “Wait two minutes.”

You follow instructions, taking the time to answer a few more mock exam questions. You try not to think too hard about his avoidance. This doesn’t seem like a particularly pressing phone call - Hotch is in budget meetings all the time.

None of your business.

After about a minute and a half, you pick up the phone again.

Before you can say anything, she’s already back on her mini-rampage. About twenty seconds in, she pauses.

“I’m so sorry. I’m still not talking to my husband, am I?”

De-escalate. Disarm. Establish rapport.

You can do this.

You channel Derek, using a softer tone designed to distract. Maybe you’ll sneak some humor in there, if you can manage it.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hotchner, he’s not available.”

With a defeated sigh, she asks, flatly, “Where is he?”

Humor. Play off her disappointment.

“I assume he’s in a meeting or something - he likes to think he’s very important - but I can’t find him.”

To your surprise, she laughs a little.

You check with Hotch across the room. He rolls his eyes at you but continues his bickering.

Success.

“Can you just… I don’t know… Tell him I called, or something?”

You try not to think too hard about the defeat in her tone. “I promise I’ll badger him to call you back as soon as he’s back at his desk, ma’am.”

“Wow.” She sounds impressed, and you’re not sure why. You’re not left in suspense for long. She continues -

“You’re a way better liar than JJ. Also - please don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old. Haley’s just fine.”

“Of course.”

“You know what…” She asks for your cell number and you give it to her, throwing a glance at Hotch for good measure. He’s still pacing.

He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, but can’t say anything to you before he’s forced to respond to the poor budget clerk who drew the short straw. “No we can’t start sharing hotel rooms…”

Haley interrupts your momentary space-out. “Thanks, again. If he doesn’t have a chance to call me back, can you let him know I’m going to my sister’s for the weekend? With Jack?”

“Sure.”

That’s another question I’m not going to ask.

You hang up the phone and get back to your exam, trying not to feel comforted by the lull of familiarity in the room.

+++

For some reason, you keep finding yourself alone in police precincts in the middle of nowhere with Hotch sitting across the table from you.

“Hey,” he says.

You look up.

“Haley, she…” He heaves a sigh and trails off for a minute, frowning at a spot above your head. “I don’t know why I’m asking, what I’m asking.”

You keep your eyes on him. “Shoot.”

He takes another breath. “I don’t know how to make her happy anymore.”

This is above my pay grade.

“Everything I do seems to irritate her - trying, not trying, just surviving. I don’t know.” He shakes his head at your somewhat bewildered expression. “Sorry, I -”

“No, no, Hotch. It’s fine.” You search for his eyes. “What can I do?”

He shakes his head. “Any advice?”

Any advice? Definitely above my pay grade.

You also feel for him - he wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t desperate.

Besides that, it almost makes sense he’s asking you rather than anyone else on the team. They’ve all known him too long, have been too close to see his struggles clearly. They need to see him as an authority, separate from petty squabbles.

Separate from the things that make him human.

He needs to be a superhero for this team, and then go home and be a superhero for his family. Both parts of his life exist with a wall between them - Agent Hotchner can’t be a husband and a father in the field, and Mr. Haley Hotchner can’t be an agent at home.

It must be lonely.

Everyone else knows about and ignores that necessary separation. He trusts them as his colleagues, people he can rely on professionally, but perhaps not personally.

Well, all except Emily.

You get the feeling that he doesn’t completely trust Emily yet, but you’re not sure why. That’s another thing to figure out about the walking enigma sitting across from you.

“Well… I’ve never been married, I don’t have kids, but I think…” You search for words.

It’s none of my business, is what you want to say.

Instead, you offer, “Why don’t you just ask her?”

His brow crumples. “What?”

“Ask her. You don’t know how to, I dunno, do it right on your own, it sounds like. But you’re a team, right? Just ask her.”

You duck down to your work, getting the feeling he’d rather not be observed as he processes. There’s a part of you that wonders whether his preference for privacy masks his fear.

Another part of you already knows the answer.

+++

Derek and Emily walk back into the precinct, spotting the pair of you right where they left you.

Hotch still watches you with a soft, curious frown on his face, like there’s a puzzle there he can’t quite solve. You diligently work away, sticking flags and post-its on cold cases for the board.

“What’s with that?”

Emily looks up from her phone. “What’s with what?”

Derek nudges his chin toward the conference room. “That.”

Emily’s brow pinches a little. “They seem to be getting along well.” Her mouth twists. “I didn’t think he’d warm up so easily. He didn’t with me.”

“He gets like that. He’s getting better, though, ever since you called him out.”

She snorts. “You’re kidding. I didn’t think he actually listened - I barely meant it.”

“No, you didn’t.” Derek raises his eyebrows and searches for her eyes. “And he heard you.”

Emily shifts her attention back to you, her posture softening. “Oh.”

“C’mon,” Derek says, tapping her upper back with a good deal of affection. “Let’s regroup and see what we’ve got.”

+++

Aaron sits up in bed, the harsh light from the hotel table lamp illuminating the ugly wallpaper and the case files on the equally ugly bedspread.

His fingers hover restlessly over the keys as he drafts his email, warring with himself.

Does he want you on the team? Permanently? He’s already shown too much of his hand, revealed too much of himself, grew too comfortable too quickly.

He’s not sure what it is about you that forced his guard down.

You’re not the first person he’s asked about Haley, though he must admit that Gideon was next to no help. Spencer’s offered him unsolicited statistics about marital strife on three separate occasions in the past three months.

Aaron presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut.

I live in a circus.

He opens his eyes and reads over the email again.

Fuck it.

His cursor hovers over Send for just a moment before he clicks. The little whooshing sound seals his fate.

+++

You land in Arizona and Gideon’s already on edge. There’s already another crime scene by the time you get off the plane

“This one’s going to be bad, isn’t it?”

Derek sighs. “You’ve got good instincts. Stay close.”

You elect yourself Derek’s shadow at the crime scene, taking notes for him while he circles and observes the body.

Leaning close to him, you ask, “Isn’t the body positioning a sign of remorse?”

He looks over at you with a little smile. “Yeah. Good work.” He looks across the street to Hotch, speaking with the detective. “Do yourself a favor and note that to Hotch. Make sure Gideon hears you.”

+++

This time, you’re alone with Emily in the conference room, helping her pin and organize the board.

“Hey,” she says, something like hesitation in her voice.

You turn. “Yeah?”

“Did Strauss ever…” She trails off and looks over her shoulder as Hotch, Gideon, and Derek come back in from the Arizona heat. They’re on their way to the conference room.

“Did she ever what?”

Emily shakes her head and forces a smile, waving you off. “Nevermind.”

You’re not sure you get the confused look of your face before your colleagues walk through the door.

+++

“Where are they?” Hotch watches the monitor, his eyes flickering, searching for Derek and Emily.

You’re frozen, watching over his shoulder as the woman stabs the unsub, and then herself. Without knowing why, your mind wanders to that question Emily almost asked you the day before.

This isn’t good.

+++

The plane ride home is quiet, tense.

You sit next to Hotch again. There’s not much you can do, but you shoot a text to Haley.

5:42pm We’re flying back. Should be wheels down in Quantico in about four hours.

She texts back after a minute.

5:43pm Thanks.

There’s something off - you don’t like the look of that period, but you try not to read into it too much. You’re all feeling a little unsettled after that case.

Your eyes wander across the cabin.

JJ’s bottom lip is firmly planted between her teeth as she stares out the window.

Spencer’s sitting across from Gideon with a huge book in his lap, but he’s looking at Gideon more than he’s reading.

Gideon, for once, doesn’t have his journal in his hand. He, like JJ, stares out the window, his mouth pinched.

Emily’s eyes are restless, her breathing somewhat irregular. She’s picking at her nails.

“Emily.”

She looks up at you, and you tap the back of your hand with a finger. She looks down, finding her thumb and index finger close to bleeding.

“Thanks.” She looks away from you again.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think the view out the window was the most captivating sight in history.

You know better. It’s just clouds.

Your phone buzzes in your hand. Jenny.

5:58pm How’s it going?

You huff a little laugh down your nose.

5:58pm Rough day.

Hotch breaks his gaze from the window. “What’s up?”

“Just Jenny. She’s checking in.”

He shakes his head and you can hear the sarcasm in his tone. “Good day for it.”

6:01pm If you’re up to it, I’ll be in my office late if you want to swing by and talk about it. 6:02pm I also have booze.

You look up to find Hotch reading over your shoulder. He backs off. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to -”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You should go, if she’s offering.”

You snort. “Should I be job-searching already?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says with a little smile. “Jenny’s seen a lot. She’s a good resource.”

+++

The Navy yard is quiet as you drive across the campus. The NCIS building isn’t hard to find, but it’s still unfamiliar territory.

When you park and get cleared for access and up the elevator, most of the lights are off on the Major Case Response floor. There are still agents present, working under the warm light of their desk lamps.

A team of four takes up the middle of the bullpen, but they barely look up as you pass them and climb the stairs.

Cynthia isn’t at her desk - gone for the night - and Jenny’s office door is open. She also has her overhead lights turned off, giving her office a cozy, lived-in feel.

“Hey, you,” she says, looking up with a little smile. “Just got the scuttlebutt on that Arizona case. Definitely not ideal, I hear.”

You shake your head, collapsing into a chair on the other side of her desk. “Not ideal is a good way to put it.”

She stands and crosses the office, pouring two small glasses of some amber liquid you know is gonna burn like hell.

You take what she offers and hold in both of your hands, not really interested in drinking it, and follow her to the couch.

“What happened?”

You heave a breath. “Got the call - three murders already. Clearly a preferential offender. All the women were students, brunette, similar features. We already had another crime scene by the time we landed. We used the profile, got the guy.”

Jenny’s brow pinches. “Then?”

“Copycat. Even came with a note exonerating the suspect we had in custody. We had to let him go without a lead on the second suspect.”

She sighs and takes a sip of her bourbon. “Been there.”

“We were surveilling him, waiting for him to do something stupid - we knew he would. The copycat confronted him… She was suicidal. Stabbed him, then herself. We were too late.”

“Oh, my God.”

You level her with an exhausted look. “Yeah.”

“How’s your team?”

“Tired, mostly.” You offer a humorless laugh. “Maybe in a more existential way than a physical way, not that any of us have slept…”

The two of you chat into the early hours of the morning. She’s had more than one day like this, in more than one country.

“It’s days like this that make you question whether you’ve chosen the right line of work.” She looks over at a picture of herself in front of the Eiffel Tower, resting on her bookshelf. “But the good days…”

“They make it worth it, don’t they?”

The corner of her mouth tips up in a smile. “Yeah. They do.”

+++

You find a text from Haley when you get back into the car, not realizing you left it in the center console cup holder.

10:38pm Thanks for getting him home safe. Get some sleep.

+++

When you come in the next morning almost embarrassingly late, Gideon’s office is still dark.

You’re not even really sure you should be here in the first place, what with the major fuckup hanging over everyone’s heads. The last thing you want to do is go home to your room, back to those four tiny walls and textbooks, even after everything. The bullpen, this team, has become your safety net.

They should all be here, but there’s only one absence striking you as particularly odd. “Where’s Gideon?”

Spencer shrugs, spinning half-circles in his desk chair. He looks despondent, staring at the carpet. You don’t see Emily or Derek, but you assume they’re somewhere.

Weird.

You set your things down and head up the stairs, knocking twice on Hotch’s door.

“Yeah?” He looks up and sees you, relaxing a little.

You take a little breath. “Should I be here today?”

“Do you want to be here today?” There’s something behind his voice you can’t quite place. It almost sounds like insecurity, like he’s worried he’s scared you off.

Far from it.

“I do, sir. I want to be here.” You think of Jenny, and hope he can hear more than you can say. “It’s worth it.”

You think maybe you’re figuring him out a little more. He smiles more often than you’d think, but you have to know what it looks like. This look - the softening of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, the slight crease at the corners of his eye, the threat of a dimple - is just as big a smile for him as Morgan’s human-sunshine smile.

“Then stick around. I’ll have you work on some mock consults with Reid and Prentiss - you’ll be doing a lot of those in the next few months until you’re ready to take them on by yourself.”

“I’ll go pick them up from JJ. They’re in her office, right?”

He nods and you turn to leave, but you’re stopped by the sound of your name before you can get through the door. “Yeah?”

“You’ve performed remarkably well, no matter what happens after this.”

The side of your mouth twists. “Thank you, sir.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @the-falling-in-the-danger @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos @bispences

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

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liquid-luck-00 · 3 years

Text

Connections 10

Chapter 10

this is based on @thepeacetea daminette soulmate au

Masterlist *** First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving in Themyscira, they were greeted by Queen Hippolyta and guided them to large hall. Introductions were made and Tikki zipped towards Hippolyta, nuzzling her cheek.

"You are the Ladybug of this generation?" The Amazonian Queen asked the youngest in the room.

"Yes, Ma’am." Marinette answered quickly and slightly panicked in the Queen's presence.

"Your soul is a true creation soul," she began her explanation. "As your soulmate and intended cat is a true destruction soul." As if on cue Damian, in corporeal form, 'crashed' through the ceiling, falling, and landing with a thud.

"Nice entrance Demon spawn." Jason snickered as Damian stood up.

"Tt. When I get my body back Grayson and Drake help me with this.” He demanded, but was actually asked of his brothers. He held up two batons.

“Dick would be better than...” Tim’s voice cut off as Damian merged the two and it expanded into a bo staff. “I stand corrected.”

“The Black Cat is the most offensive Miraculous," Hippolyta continued to explain. "As you've already found the first two, attempt to find the third."

"There are five total," Tikki chimed in. "But you'll need Plagg for the other two and to use your Power." Damian nodded and sat down fiddling with the staff, then batons, then the staff again, while listening to the Amazonian Queen.

"What does this have to do with the Lazarus Pit and bringing Damian back?” was asked by Bruce.

"Everything. Understanding the power that she is and he will, wield explains why there will not be an adverse effect on him." Hippolyta calmly explained. “The Ladybug as you may know uses a yo-yo as the primary weapon, but you also have two collapsed escrima sticks. Your powers include the 'Lucky Charm' and 'Miracle Cure’ used together you can reverse all damage caused as a result of the miraculous, or if any miraculous took part during anytime of the altercation. It is also possible to revive the dead with your power."

"So is it possible for Mari to bring back Damian?" Was asked by a hopeful Dick.

"Unfortunately not. What occurred was a result of the soul bond and the magic embedded into Marinette." A sad knowing look crossed the Queen's features. "This is where the Pits of Lazarus comes into play. As Marinette is the embodiment of creation and luck, as Damian is the embodiment of destruction and misfortune they are the two souls of this generation who can enter its waters without corruption."

"Why?" was chorused by the four eldest Waynes.

"The Pits were created by a wish merging the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous." Tikki now spoke again. "But with such powerful magic it comes with a cost. Pit madness comes when a person has a soul alignment with a miraculous, like Jason. For others it may vary, but for souls like the two of you, as part of Plagg and I, you are immune to the madness only reaping the benefits."

"Why didn't you say this before, Tikki." Tim brought up. "Because I can't see souls like my chosen can and Mari is too young to see them now." the miniature goddess responded.

"Pits as in more than one?" Bruce whispered, as if in deep thought.

"There are half a dozen pits around the world hidden away. Each is guarded by one of the inner kwamii, but that is more of a tidbit than necessary information." the Queen smiled. “Now has that calmed some concerns?"

"Is there a Pit not controlled by the League?" Jason blurted out. Because logically the league couldn't control all of them.

"A few, such as the one here on Paradise Island." Queen Hippolyta answered in turn.

"I can get my body back without the League?" Damian whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

This was the best news they could get. Damian could be revived while not having to struggle with the Pit madness. He wouldn't need to be near the League which means he wouldn't question himself. That he is able to build upon what he has since moving to Gotham without being the Prince of Assassins.

"Yes. Now come little bug, little cat." Marinette and Damian each flanked the Queen as the rest followed behind.

A short trek into the Mountains and they arrived at a pit. The same acidic green with chaos and creation swirled. Damian's body was deposited next to the swirling pool.

"Understand that when you emerge, both of you, will train here in order to strengthen and teach you the magic you will wield." the two children nodded, clear resolve on their features. "Good."

After bringing Damian back from the dead they almost immediately were placed into training. It was true that there was no madness, his mind was intact without being clouded by anger. Their soul bond was a huge benefit. Where Damian caught the physical aspect quickly and it transferred to Mari. While Mari was a natural at magic and helped guide Damian through.

Yes the Amazon’s did not particularly trust men but they could recognize Damian as a Black Cat, which along with his brother’s nickname Demon Spawn, he gained the name Hellcat. That and they could clearly see that Damian was Marinette’s soulmate, but didn’t treat her as a damsel in distress, instead as a partner and equal. Which helped him earn some respect to the warriors around them. Which was how the two spent most of the week before going back.

What they couldn't be prepared for was the tornado named Jagged. As soon as they arrived in the manor he was there in a fury of a whirlwind.

"Hey little Rocker, how was the trip?"

"It was fun." Marinette smiled at her dad.

"So got any pictures to show your papa, love." he asked excitedly.

"Pictures?" she repeated quizzically.

That was when the Wayne’s and Mari began to laugh

"What’s so funny?" The rocker asked confused.

"Apparently we were so caught up in the vacation we didn’t take pictures." Tim grinned, the little liar he is, spoke up. He had pictures but they were mostly of his brothers getting their asses handed to them by the Amazons. And he couldn’t explain how they happened to be on the secret hidden island filled with Amazonian warriors. "Their also was zero service on the island." He finished with a shrug.

"Ohh I did bring back some shells and crystals and some seeds for my garden." Mari chimed in. "I can tell you all about it."

"Yes you can on the plane to wherever you and the bird you choose to come with us." Jagged smiled at his daughter.

"Jared what are you..." Bruce near finished his sentence.

Jagged having interrupted his thoughts he sentence. “Come now Batsey you steal little rocker for a week so I steal one of your birds." He stated as a matter of fact.

Bruce just stood with his jaw slack. Sure Mari told them he figured them out, but he forgot, he had a child to revive goddamn it. “Fine but I think it’ll be a good idea to tell him Mari." He turned to the young girl.

The girl chewed her lip before putting her hand in her light vest shirt. A red pixie bug flew out and sat on Mari’s head.

"Hello I’m Tikki the Ladybug kwamii, Marinette is my chosen holder." Tikki's voice rang through the room.

"I’m sorry what now?" The rocker was eerily still and quiet.

"Long story short your daughter is a magical girl and Demon Spawn is her soulmate and is also a magical girl, boy, you get the idea." Jason chuckled.

"Okay let me get this straight. Mari's soulmate is the Grumpy Gargoyle, they are both magical kids who are chosen by fairies. All of you are Gotham's vigilantes, which I'm assuming you've been training Little Rocker."

"Yes.??” Dick answered unsure.

"Okay."

"Okay." Dick again responded. Before realizing, "Wait! Okay!”

"Ya," Jagged shrugged. "You've all met Mari. This is completely plausible with her. So who are we stealing from Bruce?"

"Dames!" she jumped to hug him from behind, arms wrapped around his neck.

Damian for his part didn't throw Marinette off. In fact he repositioned to piggy back her, a ghost of a smile spread on his neutral features.

"So where are we going?"

Yucatan Peninsula

Why?

The Twins said a gift for future bugs and cats were there.

Haven't their been cats and bugs since them?

Yes but travel was limited.

In other words scavenger hunt.

Yes. How's your Spanish? Because the most logical place to start would be the Mayan ruins.

"Mejor que eI tuyo." she smirked at him.

"God damn it their doing it again." Jason dragged his hands down his face.

"Doing what?"

"Their bond is shockingly rare, its a Mind link sharing knowledge, meaning basically anything one knows so does the other. As if that isn't enough now they can communicate telepathically."

"So why the Spanish rocker?"

"Cancun, Mayan scavenger hunt." she grinned.

"Sounds good. I'll shoot Penny a text and we'll leave tomorrow sound good?"

"Yup." She responded, Damian nodded and finally set her down.

Your helping me pack.

As if I'd let you do it yourself.

Knowing you, you'd pack your Robin uniform.

'Pfft'

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @miraculouspenta

Taglist 🐞🦇: @thanks-captain-obvious @mandy989 @our-preciousss @readingismyoxygen @birdy912 @shifty-lesbian-retro-goblin @todaylillypads @laurcad123 @demonangel27 @be-happy-every-day-please @fandom-trapped-03 @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @t1dwarrior-of-earth @saays-bitch @k-poplunardreams @animegirlweeb @weird-pale-blonde-person @myazael @toodaloo-kangaroo @moonlightstar64 @miraculous-simmer7 @wannajointhecrabcult @blackmagicforever @iamabrownfox @justcourttee @consumeconstantly @abrx2002 @livelifeauthorstyle @certifiedbidisaster @dreamykitty25 @ironspiderstark @fantasyislive @dast218 @susiej1118 @sassakitty @lilyreadbooks12 @dawnwave16 @mochegato @galla02006 @nathleigh @trippingovermyfeet @promiswords @rosep16 @officiallydarkgeek @inarachi02 @justafanwarrior @emimar7

#dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #maribat #damian x marinette #batfam #marinette x damian #daminette #daminette soulmates #connections au #marinette stone

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imkylotrash · 3 years

Text

Meeting The Folks

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

Requests: Student!reader x Silva, where her friends, her roommates find out and help her get him, like help her dress, sneak around and everything? Anonymous And Student!reader x Silva, about how they tell her parents that they are together? It would be even better if her father or mother was like "wait, Silva? Saul Silva? This Saul Silva that...". Anonymous

Tagging list: @grey-girl @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quuenofblacks @quarterback-5 @bitchwhytho

It’s not easy hiding a relationship from the girls. Especially not when you’re dating the head of the army but you manage to do so for almost 8 months before they discover the truth. It happens one morning when Terra is about to go to the green house. You’d never imagine someone being up at 6am on a Saturday so you don’t do your normal check before leaving Saul’s quarters. Unfortunately, the way to the green house leads straight past there so you practically walk right into Terra.

“Was that-” You hush her checking to see if anyone else has decided to take a morning stroll. She looks like she’s about to burst from excitement but stays quiet until you’re satisfied that she’s the only one here.

“Did you just leave Mr. Silva’s room?” she whisper-yells and you’re hoping that Saul won’t come out. The last thing you need is him panicking over the fact that someone knows.

“It’s a secret. You can’t tell anyone. It would be really bad if the wrong people found out,” you warn her hoping she understands that this isn’t one of those things she can just blabber to everyone.

“How long?” she asks. Going against your gut feeling, you tell her a brief summary of how you and Saul found yourselves falling in love.

“Remember when I got promoted to be his assistant? It meant a lot of late nights and difficult discussions. We didn’t plan for this. It just happened along the way. But if Farah found out, I might get kicked out of Alfea. And Saul would definitely be banned from here.” You can’t believe that you managed to keep this a secret for so long and just days before graduation someone finds out.

“I won’t tell. Promise.” She pretends to lock her lips and throws the key away. This definitely won’t a secret tomorrow. You spend the day worrying about Terra and you don’t relax until she’s back in the suite with the other Winx girls. When she sees you, she gives you a not-so-secretive wink making you facepalm yourself.

“Did you guys want to get some dinner?” you ask looking around at the girls. You’d been their mentor when they first arrived to the school but the friendship stayed even after they’d settled in to Alfea.

“Aren’t you having dinner with Sa-”

“Terra!” you yell and she immediately covers her mouth.

“I’m so sorry, it slipped out.” But the damage is done.

“Who is she talking about?” Stella smirks starting to list names of the boys in your year. The only who stays quiet is Musa. When you lock eyes with her, you realise why.

“Don’t,” you mouth to her hoping she’ll understand and she gives you the slightest nod. She must’ve felt your anxiety at Terra almost saying his name and put two and two together. You have no doubt that she knows Terra was about to say Saul.

“There’s also Sander,” Stella says still listing the names of boys not realising she’s looking for the name of a man. Specifically, a man older than any of the students.

“It’s Saul!” you exclaim bending under pressure. You’ve wanted to tell them for so long and now that two of the girls already know, you may as well you say it. You want to be able to talk about him to someone that isn’t him.

“Have you been sneaking around with Mr. Silva?” Bloom asks making you sigh.

“Please just call him Saul,” you say but they all refuse.

“We’re not the ones sharing a bed with him. I’ll stick to Mr. Silva,” Aisha laughs and the rest of the girls nod in agreement.

“I can’t believe that you’ve robbed me of helping you with your outfits for dates, creating little meet cutes between the two of you. We could’ve helped come up with ideas for dates,” Stella pouts adding, “I’m not mad. Just disappointed.” Over the next couple of days, Stella makes it her mission to make up for lost time. She plans all of your outfits, arranged cute little moments for you and Saul all while making sure no one interrupts you. It baffles you just how good she is at this. Saul takes the news of the girls finding out surprisingly well.

“Now that we’re so close to graduation, I don’t see how it’ll make much a difference.” You’re happy he’s okay with them knowing because that makes it so much easier for you to suggest telling your parents.

“You want to what?” he asks almost choking in his food.

“I want to tell my parents. You said it yourself, it doesn’t make that much of a difference now.” You’ve always been close with your parents and it’s been killing you to have to hide this from them. He can’t argue against his own logic so the day after graduation you find yourself on the road preparing to introduce your parents to Saul.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? Maybe we should wait.” You’ve never seen Saul nervous before and you quickly decide it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“They will love you. Almost as much as I do,” you smile hoping you’re telling the truth, “but maybe you should wait outside and let me test the waters first.” He agrees clutching your hand in his. Seeing your parents fill you with happiness even with the knowledge of what you have to tell them.

“We are so proud of you!” your mother exclaims congratulating you on finally graduating. They’re both hold very important positions in your realm meaning they couldn’t get time off to travel all the way to Alfea but they demand to get all the details now that you’re here.

“Well, I do actually have something to tell you.” To buy yourself some time, you grab one of the cookies that your mother has put out on the table and take a few bites. They have enough common sense to let you work up the courage on your own rather than push you.

“I’m seeing someone,” you start and are quickly interrupted by your mother’s cheers.

“We have to meet them! Do you have a picture of them? Or maybe they came with you?” She’s so caught up in the fact that you’re dating someone, she doesn’t wait to hear who it is.

“Mom, I’m happy that you’re happy but you may want to wait until I tell you who it is.” You take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“I’m dating Saul Silva.”

“Saul Silva?” Your mother sits down looking a little pale.

“Wait, Saul Silva? As in Head of the Army Saul Silva? The man who’s killed 13 Burned Ones?” It’s the first time your father chimes in and you can see the confusion on his face. Of course, they both know who Saul is but they definitely didn’t expect you to be dating him.

“The Saul Silva who’s not only Headmaster for the specialists but also the fencing instructor on Alfea?”

“That’s the one,” you say trying to figure out if now is the time to bring him in. He’s probably trying to eavesdrop by the door.

“I can bring him in if you’d like,” you offer to which your mother springs up from her chair and grabbing the fancy platters.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were dating such fine company. The table is all wrong.” That’s your mother in a nutshell. She runs around using her magic to redecorate and move around furniture. Your father remains seated apparently in shock so you figure now is as good a time as any.

“Saul,” you call after opening the door. Immediately, he’s by your side his eyes asking if everyone is okay.

“I think you may be their favourite,” you laugh taking his hand to lead him inside.

“What an honour to have you,” your mother says shaking his hand. Your dad gets up to do the same but he doesn’t let go of Saul’s hand. There’s a little bit of a challenge in your father’s eyes and Saul accepts it. The testosterone is heavy in the air as they try to crack each other’s hands.

“That’s enough,” your mother says signalling for all of you to sit down by the table. They spend the next three hours questioning Saul and his intentions for you. At no point do they mention his age - the one thing you were worried they’d be upset about. It seems that all they really want is for you to be happy.

“Don’t be a stranger now,” your mother says standing in the doorway as you’re about to head home. You wave goodbye one last time before getting in the car.

“That went well,” Saul says acting as if he wasn’t worried to begin with. You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless.

“Just take me home,” you say with closed eyes. Your hand comes to rest on his thigh, a habit you’ve created after driving with him many times.

“Yes, ma’am.”

#saul silva x reader #saul silva gif #saul silva imagine #saul silva blurb #saul silva #silva #fate the winx saga #fate the winx club #fate winx club #winx saga #winx club #fate winx #fate

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

teach me what i need to know (to be strong enough to let go)

@911lonestarangstweek day 2 - g is for...grief, guilt, grace

title from night must end by sleeping at last

ao3 | 1.3k | grief, references to past character death

She’s drunk. She’s barely touched a drop of drink since Charles because there was the girls to think about, always the girls, and it’s not like they’ve gone anywhere, but Tommy just. She can’t. She can’t do this. She doesn’t know how she ever did this.

Not that she ever…

Because, before, there was always Charles. At the end of the day, he would always come home; even if he ended up staying late at the restaurant, he would text her and she would go to sleep in the knowledge that she would wake up to a warm bed.

Now, all Tommy has is a cold mattress and an abandoned text thread that is slipping further and further down in her messages.

And she’s been coping. She has. But tonight it was all just—the station and Billy and Owen and the girls and Charles—it was all too damn much.

So now she’s here, drunk off her ass with Gracie attempting to console her while Judd looks after Izzy and Evie for the night. She’s going to feel horrendously guilty once the hangover has faded and her brain is firing on all cylinders again, but that’s for future Tommy to deal with.

“D’you remember the last night we did this?” she’s saying now. ‘We’ is a relative term, of course; Grace is hardly drinking now—(and, god, Tommy had hated that part of her own pregnancy, not that she’s a big drinker, but she hadn’t even been able to have a glass of wine and she’d missed it dammit)—but she digresses.

“I was jealous,” she continues. “I was honest to god jealous of the fact that my husband was taking care of our girls, and he was doing it well. Can you believe that?”

“Tommy—”

“And, you know, Charles was always there for the girls, they were always his first priority, but there was the restaurant, so I was the one who’d tuck them in and read them stories and—and braid their hair. That was me.

“I thanked God everyday that Charles was able to be there for them. But I hated it because it felt—it felt like they didn’t need me anymore. Charles was perfect and it was like he was doing so much better than I ever did, and a part of me really, really hated that. No, a part of me still does sometimes because I’ve forgotten how to do this on my own and I need him now more than ever but he’s just… He’s gone, Gracie.”

She hadn’t even realised she was crying, but she can’t suppress a sob at that, bitterness and regret and grief threatening to overwhelm her yet again. Tommy twists away at the sensation of Grace’s hand on her back, shaking her head as she cries harder.

“No.”

“T, it’s okay, just let it out, it’s gonna be okay.”

“No, no, it’s not.” She takes a shuddering breath and wipes her eyes, meeting Grace’s gaze as best she can through her near triple vision. “They want their daddy,” she whispers. “They want their daddy, and I don’t know how to be enough for them anymore. I don’t know if I ever was.”

“Tommy!” Grace’s voice is sharper this time and it shocks Tommy out of her spiral, to hear the near anger in her friend’s voice. “If you expect me to just sit here and listen to this, then you have another thing coming, ‘cause I’m gonna tell you something now and I hope you hear it.”

Grace takes a breath, pausing as though waiting for Tommy to interrupt again. But Tommy is out of words anyway and she’s tired of fighting for now.

“I don’t know what you’re going through,” Grace continues after waiting a moment longer, “and I pray that I never find out. But you have to know that this is all natural. Those girls just lost their daddy, which is hard for anyone, let alone two nine-year-olds. So, yeah, they’re gonna be acting out and giving you a bit of a hard time, but don’t you ever doubt that they love you. You are their world, and you have always been there for them; you have always been more than enough.

“But here’s the thing,” she continues, voice softening. She reaches out and takes Tommy’s hands, holding them tightly. “Izzy and Evie lost their dad, but you, Tommy Vega, lost your husband. The man who had been by your side for thirty years. You were a team, you and Charles, and a damn good one; neither of you were ever alone, not when Charles had the restaurant, and not when you went back to work. But he’s gone now, and you feel like all that weight you two shared is now all on you, right?”

Tommy swallows and sniffs, nodding silently. Somewhere along the line she started crying again, a fact she’s only alerted to when Grace reaches up and wipes a tear away, smiling softly.

“It’s not,” Grace says. “It never will be. Whatever happens, I promise you’ll always have me and Judd, and I’m pretty sure you can count on anyone at the firehouse to help whenever you need. I mean, Carlos looked after them for, what, one afternoon? And they love him already.”

She snorts at that; Judd’s indignation at being replaced as the girls’ favourite person has provided both her and Grace (and TK, a little) with endless amusement.

“See? It’s okay to share the load, Tommy. You cannot be expected to be on it 24/7, especially not after what you’ve been through, okay? We’re only human, and someone once taught me that asking for help makes us wise, not weak. It was some pretty good advice; you might want to consider taking it.”

Grace levels her with a pointed look that Tommy can understand even with her mind only quarter-functioning. She pouts at her, getting a small giggle out of Grace.

“Not fair to use my own words against me.”

“Well, maybe you deserved it,” Grace teases. Then, she gets to her feet and grasps Tommy’s elbows, pulling her up to standing as well. “Now, here’s what’s gonna happen. You, ma’am, are going to drink some water and get your ass into bed while I text Judd and tell him that he’s gotta keep the girls overnight. I’ll sleep in your spare room—”

“No, Gracie, no, no.” Tommy tugs herself from Grace’s grasp but, unsteady as she is, the simple movement unbalances her and she slumps back onto the couch.

Grace folds her arms, watching her with a raised eyebrow. “This isn’t up for discussion, T.”

“But—”

“Uh-uh,” she tuts, shaking her head. “What did we just talk about, huh? Tonight, I’m here to help you in whatever you need, even if that involves putting you to bed and holding your hair back over the toilet bowl. Now, come on.”

And, this time, Tommy goes willingly, allowing Grace to lead her to bed and force a glass of water down her. She settles into the covers, sleep rapidly approaching now that she’s lying down, but she manages to hold it back long enough to call, “Hey, Gracie?”

Grace turns, smiles. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. You’re a… You’re a good friend.”

Grace’s smile softens and she raps her knuckles lightly on the doorframe. “Love you too, T.”

Then she’s gone, and Tommy is alone in her bed again. Charles’s absence is still as glaring as ever, but knowing that Grace is here eases the weight on her chest.

For the first time in months, Tommy falls asleep with a smile on her face.

#911lsangstweek #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tommy vega #grace ryder #charles vega #tommy x charles #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing

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jimlingss · 3 years

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Hi! I hope you are doing well ☺️ I have a request!

With Jimin, mainly fluff, a tiny angst and a smudge of smut if you are comfortable, I was thinking in frenemies2l au 😅 you know like they are friends but there is tension, but the good kind and feelings and witty banter and maybe some misunderstanding

“Can I at least tell my side of the story?”

“I can’t keep playing pretend.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

“You should probably go home.” “But I’m already home.”

Love your writing btw!! ❣️

Anonymous said: jimin x fluff/crack humour x “Is the cat in a onesie?” “Uh, no? (optional!) x someone contracts Black Cat Flu: a disease that causes chronic bad luck and has to be under quarantine. method of cure? up to you!

↳ Black Cat Flu

2.9k || 98% Fluff, 2% Angst || Park Jimin || Magic!AU, Frenemies!AU

Every night, you answer house calls.

It’s a tough job from time to time, especially when patients are difficult or the problem itself is complex. One thing’s for sure — there’s never a shortage of issues. Plenty of witches and wizards like to be irresponsible with magic. But you enjoy the job. It’s worth it when you can leave with a sound heart that your patient is on their way to recovering. It’s worth staying up past dusk and dawn when you know you’ve eased a family and saved them from unnecessary grief.

But what you don’t expect is answering a house call for Park Jimin.

You’re standing in front of his townhouse with a long sigh, gripping your first aid kit in one hand and your wand in the other. In spite of the sharp black gate and the pointed edges of his roof that gives off an eerie feeling, he’s decorated the front windows with goofy, flashing pumpkin stickers and charmed fireflies to twinkle and light up the stair railing. That was Jimin for you.

You knock on the door.

Immediately, you hear thumps that follow, a muffled curse and then the door opens.

On the other side, Jimin is disheveled. His brown hair is sticking in all directions, his navy shorts are covered in soot and short enough to be boxers, and there’s a tear in his black and white long sleeve. You try to not to stare at the skin of his tummy. It’s not too hard to resist when his brown eyes are perfectly rounded and he’s staring into your soul with a distressed expression.

The door knob falls into his hand.

“Y/N! Thank god, it’s you!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything!”

Your brow lifts. “Like usual?”

Jimin hangs his head. “It’s even worse.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. What did you do this time?”

You step inside the house and notice the thick smoke billowing out from one of the rooms. Jimin barely manages to shove the door shut behind you. “I was experimenting and something happened and now everything around me keeps breaking.”

His black cat, Seokjin, scurries across the floor of the living room. He turns his head to hiss at you and then disappears down the hall. You look at Jimin. “Is the cat in a onesie?”

“Uh, no?”

You don’t prod and pry more than you have to. You’ve been friends with Jimin long enough to know better than to ask what goes on in that brain of his. You’ll never understand him. Nor do you want to.

Instead, you follow after him.

Jimin’s always been clumsy, so it’s no surprise when he trips on the hall rug. But it’s never been this bad — arms flailing, body like jelly, feet slipping. “Woah!” You step back and he manages to grasp onto the door frame for balance before he can eat shit. But it breaks in his hand.

Part of the door frame crumbles off and into his hand. He curses and looks at you. “See what I mean?”

You peek into the room. The cauldron is still steaming. It smells like catnip.

“What were you trying to make?”

“A sweet potion.”

From your fuzzy knowledge of potions class years ago, you recall it being the weaker counterpart to the infamous love potion. Some might dub it as a liking potion.

You hum curiously. You thought Jimin had no problems trying to make friends.

Jimin grabs a bottle off his shelf and the moment it’s in his palm, the glass bursts in his hand. He looks at you. You’re expressionless. “Go lay down.”

“If you lay with me,” Jimin says while he tries to shake the glass off. You whirl your wand and every fragment and shard floats in the air before showering down to the ground.

You give him a lazy glare and lift your first aid kit up. “I’m going to toss this at you.”

The boy grins. “That’s not really my kink, but if it’s you, I might be into it.”

Yet in spite of Jimin’s mouthiness, he still listens to you and makes his way to his room.

On the way, he turns slightly. “Have you been busy tonight?”

“Not reall— Jimin!”

Your shout is too late. He collides with his own decorative flower vase and it shatters around his feet into a million bits. Jimin deflates, shoulders slugging, looking down at what was once his favourite vase that he got from his late grandma. “Shit.”

“Don’t move,” you warn him. But yet again, it’s too late.

As the words are coming out of your mouth and before your wand can whirl again, he’s stepping back. Right onto a mountain of sharp glass fragments. Jimin winces. You groan. He bleeds all over the place.

You barely manage to get him into bed and his feet bandaged.

“Say ah.”

“Ah.”

You look into his mouth with the light from the tip of your wand and a popsicle stick pressed against his tongue. Then you hum and move to shine the light in each of his eyes to look at his pupils.

“I think I need mouth-to-mouth,” Jimin says.

“I’m not that kind of doctor,” you mutter.

He grins and you step back, finished with the examination. “Am I dying, doctor?”

“No. It’s much worse,” you deadpan and Jimin looks genuinely taken aback. A second later, you snort with a smile. “I’m kidding.”

Jimin sighs in exasperation. “You shouldn’t play with my heart like that. There’s only so much I can take when you’re already this hot.”

He wiggles his brows and scans your figure up and down, but you’re not so sure what there is to look at when you’re tired, sweaty, and covered from head to toe, dressed in black and just a white doctor’s coat. “You contracted Black Cat Disease. Looks like a bad case too. A bad case of bad luck.”

You open the first aid kit and spray yourself with disinfect ten times over, making sure to get every inch of your body. Then you’re putting on a mask and gloves. Magic can only do so much — personal protective equipment will do the rest.

“Aw, this means I really can’t kiss you tonight, can I?”

You ignore him. “You have to be under quarantine for the time being.”

“What’s the cure?”

“True love’s kiss.” Silence. The corner of your lip tugs. “Kidding. Rest and sleep. All flus past that way.”

You come over and push Jimin’s shoulder so he’s no longer sitting up and his back hits the mattress, head against the pillows. You tug the blanket up over his body and he pouts.

“This sucks.”

“Sure does. Now rest. I’ll make a tonic for you.” You shift on your feet and get to your kit without a moment’s rest. You want to treat Jimin as quickly as possible.

But before you get out the door, his soft voice stops you—

“Thanks, Y/N. I mean it.”

You peek over your shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know I’d do anything for you.” There’s a strangely intimate pause as Jimin gazes at you with a tender smile. It makes you sweat and you hastily add, “Plus, this is my job.”

...

You’ve nursed a lot of people before. But Jimin is not on your list of people you want to offer your expertise to. He’s your friend, yes, but lately, you’ve been more distant. He can just be a bit too much sometimes. Especially now.

“What the hell are you doing.”

He’s up. Standing by his bedroom cobblestone fireplace. Wrapped in his blankets. And the corner of said blanket is on fire. Jimin manages to stomp it out before it can light up the entire goddamn thing and burn his body as well. There’s definitely no cure for that.

He sulks. “I was just trying to start the fireplace. I’m cold!”

“Go back to bed before I knock you out.”

With your monotone and dead stare, Jimin knows not to mess around. He doesn’t banter or add unnecessary comments. “Yes, ma’am.”

You sigh and as he gets settled down again, you place the tonic down on his bedside.

As much as you want to answer another house call and escape this place, you can’t leave him be. Jimin almost set himself and the house on fire, and knowing him, he’d somehow hurt himself again and you’d have to come back anyway. There’s no one else to take care of him. At least not here.

“When you get better, you should probably go home.” You look down to see his chubby fingers gripping the edge of the blanket that he’s brought to the bridge of his nose. The only features of Jimin revealed are his eyes and his soft locks of hair against the pillow. He looks both dumb and cute. You can’t decide which. “To your parents.”

Jimin’s eyes crinkle and you know he’s smiling. “But I’m already home.”

For the briefest of moments, a mere millisecond, your brows furrow.

You quickly turn away, but Jimin caught your expression all too easily. His smile falls.

There’s an undeniable tension to the air ever since you stepped foot inside this house. Every bantering remark from you has had more of a vicious bite to it than usual. And you know you’ve been shutting down his playful teasing each time when you used to entertain it more. But it’s all been subtle. No one should notice the change.

Too bad Jimin’s too perceptive for his own good.

He can tell you’re not comfortable, that your shoulders are tense, that you’re trying to get out of here….

And sensing a confrontation, you make an escape. “I have to grab something from—”

The blanket is thrown off. Jimin lurches forward. His hand wraps around your wrist before you’re too far away.

“I can’t keep playing pretend,” he murmurs in a velvet voice, mischievous side tucked away in favour of something more serious. “Pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay.”

You control your expression, turn to face him and you play dumb. “What do you mean?”

“You’re mad.”

You scoff and something inside you snaps. He just has to force a confrontation when you clearly don’t want one, doesn’t he? But why are you surprised. What Jimin wants, Jimin gets.

“Why would I be mad? That you dated Jungkook when you knew I had it bad for him?” Your sarcasm is venomous and it’s spat from your lips. “Of course not! I’m over it.”

You never expected your friend would become your love rival. You know Jimin’s ass is nice — it’s clear to see. But you never knew it would be weaponized against you.

He winces and lets go of you. “Can I at least tell my side of the story?”

“What could your side possibly be, Jimin? What’s your excuse this time?”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“You knew I liked Jungkook! I told you about it. I confided in you. But you went ahead and dated him anyway!”

Jimin sputters. “It’s not my fault he liked me!”

The hand gripping your wand quivers but in your anger, you still know better than to use an offensive spell against him. “You were giving him signals!”

Jimin slumps. It’s an admission of guilt.

Yet he still has the audacity to blurt, “I just didn’t want him to go out with you!”

“Why?! Because you’d be jealous?!” you shout and he pales. You know you’ve hit bullseye, so you keep going, “You don’t want to be the only lonely one? You’d rather us both not date?”

Jimin sighs out of frustration. “It’s not like that, Y/N.”

There’s a burning in your eyes. In the back of your mind, you wonder if you got infected with the Black Cat Disease, but you realize it’s tears. Which is even worse.

“It was a shitting thing to do,” you seethe in a sharp whisper. “And you didn’t even like him. You dumped him after three days.”

“I had to.”

But by then, you don’t want to hear him anymore. You can’t take it anymore.

You twist on your heel and leave the room, eyes stinging at the betrayal of your friend. You don’t know why he has to confront you now when you’re supposed to be working. He’s always catching you off guard, always caring more for himself. Jimin has no regard for you whatsoever.

You have half a mind to realize Jimin’s chasing after you, limping on his bandaged foot.

“Will you just wait? Where are you going?! Y/N!” The floorboard in the hall cracks. Jimin’s other foot falls through and becomes lodged into the ground. He curses aloud, physically stuck in place. But you don’t turn around. He’s not your problem anymore. He should’ve never been—

“I can’t date him when I’m in love with you!”

You freeze. And turn around. “What?”

“I know. I fucked up. I just….I didn’t want Jungkook to go out with you. So I started to flirt with him and the next thing I know, he’s asking me out. I didn’t know you’d be so hurt, that you liked him so much.” Jimin’s downcast eyes search the floor in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

“What did you just say?”

He looks up at you. “I’m sorry.”

“No, before that.”

“I...didn’t want Jungkook to go out with you..?”

“No, you idiot! You’re in love with me?”

“Yeah.” Jimin shifts and realizes his foot is still stuck in the floor. He winces. “Fuck, Y/N. My feet really hurt. I need to sit down.”

You immediately move, putting his arm around your shoulder and hoisting him up. The both of you are silent as you guide him back into bed. His house is practically destroyed from his bad luck — door knobs gone, door frames chipped off, glass shards everywhere, smoke in the living room and now a giant hole in the hallway. But you know there’s nothing a wand can’t fix, so you push it all aside.

There’s more important matters to deal with.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” you whisper, unable to believe it.

Jimin, lying on his bed, turns his head towards you and the corners of his mouth draw meekly. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but guess I did that anyway.” After a beat, he reveals, “I was….I was making that potion for you. I wanted you to like me again.”

“Why? Did you think I hated you or something?”

“Seemed like it.” He smiles more genuinely. “Especially after all that, how could I not?”

“I was just mad. Still kind of am.” You scoff lightly, unable to fathom how everything spiraled out of control from one event. You’ll truly never understand how Jimin’s brain works and how he managed to make such a mess. He’s stupid. Endearingly stupid. “I’d kiss you if you weren’t sick.”

All at once, Jimin’s eyes light up. “You...you don’t hate me for being in love with you?”

“No, you idiot.”

“Then…..do you feel the same way?”

“It’s just a lot to take in,” you admit, feeling your face warm. This was a different kind of confrontation that you didn’t expect to happen tonight and you’re not sure you hate it. “But...when you get better, take me on a proper date and I’ll tell you then.”

Jimin grins, getting settled into his sheets. “I’m feeling better already.”

....

epilogue.

((Jimin, in fact, does not feel better. He wakes up worse and you end up having to deliver him into the clinic where he’s looked after for the next two weeks. It’s one of the worst Black Cat Disease cases that the witch doctors have ever seen. His entire house ends up being taped off for being a biohazard and the potion in the cauldron is taken as a biochemical weapon. It’ll apparently be two months until he can move back in, so he’s rendered homeless.

When he’s discharged from the clinic, you take him in.

And that date doesn’t happen for a while considering his feet take much longer to recover and he’s practically limping everywhere. Apparently the glass really got lodged in there and his floorboards are super sharp once they’ve been punctured. But he still tries to take you for a midnight broom ride. You stop him when his bandages are soaked with blood. That one attempt doubled his recovery time.

It turns out his cat, Seokjin, was stuck in a onesie because it was Jimin’s way of dealing with the fleas on his cat. As if covering the issue would make it go away. And by the time you realized this, your house had an entire flea infestation.

When Jimin’s healthy again, you’re this close to kicking him out. But with every mistake he makes, he fixes each of them. Sort of. And he really does manage to sweep you off your feet on that date. As stupid as Jimin can be, he has his own charms and he bewitches you under the stars and moonlight.

But by then, it’s not like it really matters.

You’ve been living with the guy. Sleeping together, in both meanings. And you argue a healthy amount. Just like a married couple.))

#bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin scenario #jimin fluff #bts scenario #jimin reader insert #jimin x reader #jimin fanfiction #Anonymous

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