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theseeingfawn · 7 months ago

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Chapter 3: Inner Circlejerk

Summary:

Elain and Azriel do their best to survive dinner with the Inner Circle.

Azriel

I’m more than a little agitated today. I went on my morning run, shirt on, of course. The leering over the past few days has calmed down and my presence in town seems to become the new normal. It’s when I came back from my run that’s the issue. The Starlight Inn is packed for brunch bingo. Bernadette, the owner, neglected to tell me the place would be overrun with ornery townsfolk. They all stop to gape at me as I walk through the lobby like it’s a 1970s Clint Eastwood film. I decide to dodge the glares and head to my room.

Unfortunately for me Bernadette stops me before I head up the stairs. She scowls as she asks, “You were at Petals the other night, weren’t you?” I just stare at her, before I try to tell her no she tuts, “don’t lie to me, I know you were.” I sigh, “How do you know that?” She gives me a sinister chuckle, “I know everything that happens in this town.” What the actual fuck. “Maybe you should mind your business, Bernadette.” She hisses, “don’t you take that tone with me. Elain is my business.” I fight the urge to argue, getting in fisticuffs with a grandma is not on my agenda for the day. “I guess you want to know what we were doing?” She looks at me with a critical eye, “would you tell me if I ask?” I clench my jaw and bite out, “no.” She claps me on the shoulder and says, “good man. I think I’m beginning to like you despite your proclivity towards nudity.” She takes her time looking over my body. I suddenly feel exposed. I stare at her in disbelief as she leans too close and whispers, “next time use the back window. No one can see you that way.” I take a step back from the werther's original smell, “there won’t be a next time.” She laughs again, “you know it’s nine in the morning, right? It’s too early to be bullshitting me.” I blink. She adds, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I'm going to go kick Pauline’s ass in bingo.” I have no idea who Pauline is but I’ve never pitied someone more.

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The street smells like piss. There is a shanty town with tents made out of discarded items down the alley. I’m definitely not in Hewn Hills anymore. I’m meeting Devlon, my boss, at the safe house in Windhaven to go over the details of my latest assignment. There have been rumors and reports from our contacts in the criminal underground that a new biker gang called ‘The Attors’ is trying to establish itself in the area.

I've known Devlon for years, before I joined the bureau. He was the commander of my special forces group. When the war ended he offered me a position at the FBI to work as an undercover officer. I would have been flattered if the man didn't hate me. He chose me because of my skill set and reputation, not because he gives a damn about me. I am nothing more than a tool, an instrument to be wielded. Devlon is waiting outside the warehouse smoking a cigarette. “Good to see you boy, come in and let's get this over with.” I clench my fist. I hate it when he calls me boy. I’m less than a decade younger than him. But he wields his authority over me every chance he gets. Devlon is a fortunate son, he hails from a military family well known and respected. I, the bastard son to a mobster, had to claw my way up the ranks through merit and merit alone. Sometimes, I think that's why he hates me so much. I’ve earned everything I have. “I assume you got your bike?” I nod as we walk into a large open warehouse floor. “Good, I've brought a cache of weapons with me that have been registered in every major database in the country. Each one will be traceable.” The guns are laid out on the floor. There are hundreds of them. “You also have ammo that’s laced with faebane.” I eye him suspiciously. He sighs, “we want the gunshot residue to have a distinct signature.” Faebane isn't just a good chemical for tracing gun powder residue. But a potent poison that can weaken muscles, cause hallucinations and is potentially fatal in high enough doses. A risky substance to be lacing ammo with but I keep my mouth shut… for now.

I’m familiar with it from my time as a captive of Hybern. Hybern, a well known criminal syndicate, has a history of using low grade chemical weapons on its enemies. “Are the Attors tied to Hybern?” Devlon turns away unwilling to address me head on, “yes, we believe Hybern is trying to infiltrate North America. It's still early, no known weapons transfers have taken place. That's why we need you to pose as the Shadowsinger and sell them traceable guns.” It makes sense I suppose that they would try to make inroads here. Hybern hails from a corrupt country with limited resources. I imagine they have grown even more desperate after the war and the embargo that was imposed on trade.

Devlon picks up a bullet and looks me in the eye for the first time since I got here, “any idea why they would pick this location?” I ponder the question a bit before answering. My silence aggravates Devlon, the vein in his forehead always bulges when I irritate him. I decide to put him out of his misery, “Velaris has the wealth and trade ports to support their smuggling operations. But, Kier and the Nightbringers are too powerful for them to set up shop right away.” The Nightbringers are a big time mob operation operating out of Velaris. I make a mental note to check in with Rhy about their current status. I continue on, “I suspect they chose this place because it’s low on the radar, a small police presence and a local population in need of funds.”

I seeth quietly. Windhaven is a military town. Most of its residents are active or retired soldiers, many of whom are unhoused or suffering from some sort of service related injury. It’s prime territory to recruit vulnerable men into a life of crime. It’s why my father was able to stay in power so long. Offering weak men power, money and control over their lives. I sigh, “you aren't worried they’ll recognize me?” I’d been briefly captured by Hybern during the war. I was held for a few days before I eventually escaped. I met the kingpin in charge of the operation, Hybern himself and his right hand man Koschei, albeit briefly. Devlon paces back and forth, “thanks to your training they didn't recover any personal information from you. They don’t know who you are. If they do recognize you, it shouldn't blow your cover.” My cover as the Shadowsinger involves military service, though I keep the details vague on purpose. It could work but I have a feeling my presence would be suspicious if I were to be seen by Koscehi. Hybern himself wouldn't likely remember me. Too small a fish at the time, but Koschei has an eye for such details, from what I remember.

“Devlon, Koschei knows I'm Illyrian and saw my scars. He will know me if he sees me.” A part of me felt like this is a setup. Like I am being used as some sort of bait though I can't figure out why. Devlon scoffs, “I have it on good authority that Koschei is on the continent at his lake house. Even if he did recognize you, I'm sure you can spin it to your advantage as you always do. You’re as ruthless as they come.” Devlon hands me the keys to the safe house and quickly changes the subject. “Are you staying in Hewn Hills in your down time?” I nod. “Don’t let any of the bastards follow you back there. It's virtually crime free with one Sheriff.” I grunt in response. “One last thing Azriel, the Attors bar is called Amarantha's and the code phrase to get in is ‘Under the Mountain.’ Here is your new burner phone and I left a stack of briefing materials on the table. Call If you need anything. I will check in next week assuming you have nothing new to report.” And with that Devlon is gone.

The bar is located in the warehouse district. Close to the safehouse which has a perfect view of the back of Amarantha’s. I dig around and find a stash of reconnaissance supplies including binoculars, a telescope, go pro cameras, bugging devices, an encrypted laptop, and a comfy chair for lounging. There is a mini fridge with snacks and bottled water. I have everything I need for the next few days to observe, learn and plan. I peruse the stack of paper he left. I’ll read it then do my own research. I never trust what the government tells me. A hold over from my stint in the mob. I set up the equipment exactly how I like and watch.

It’s not long before my mind shifts focus to Elain. She’s all I seem to think about these days. The other night at her bakery was perfect. I smile to myself remembering the way she blushed so easily. How her delicate hands worked the flowers. The unexpected gangster rap that played in the background. Just when I think I’ve discovered her, a new facet of her personality appears. I want to see her again but Bernadette’s comments make me a little weary. I’d have to be careful moving forward, the last thing I want is to create problems for Elain. My phone buzzes and it’s a reminder from Feyre that she’s hosting dinner. I bet Elain will be there. I won’t have to worry about peeping grannies if I attend. Just Rhys. I close my eyes, I do need to talk to him about Kier. That’s all, that’s the only reason I’m going I think to myself as my fingers type out a reply to Feyre.

Elain

It's D-day… doomsday. The most dreaded time of the month. Dinner at the townhouse. RIP my ego. I shake my head. I’d rather it be death to Lucien day. No Elain, be reasonable. Gods, am I sick of being reasonable. I nervously brush my hair, I’m dreading going to Feyre and Rhysand’s place. Well, one of their many places. They own a penthouse in downtown Velaris, a cabin in the Illyrian mountains and a townhome in Hewn Hills. They spend most of their time in Velaris but they return to Hewn Hills regularly. Velaris is only a forty-five minute drive away so traveling back and forth is easy enough. The monthly dinner includes what Feyre annoyingly refers to as the Inner Circle, her group of friends, which unfortunately for me includes Lucien. He also has an insufferable name for his group of friends, the Band of Exiles. I suppose that was one of the reasons they are such good friends, they both tend to be annoying. I have successfully avoided Lucien as much as possible, except for nipplegate (that’s what Nuala calls it), but that would be impossible tonight. I've tried to move past his hurtful words but can't help but dwell on them.

It hurts because it isn't the first time someone called me boring. Nesta often teases me about being demure. Feyre patronizingly encourages me to take up her hobbies as if mine are inadequate. Both of my sisters coddle and stifle me. I'm just Little Lainey or Angel Elain. They censor their words around me assuming I am too faint of heart to hear the word fuck. They exclude me from important conversations. I’ve learned the hard way there is no arguing with the two of them. They just steamroll, shout it out and on a handful of occasions thrown down Kardasian style. Their meddling only got worse after my failed engagement.

The breakup only emboldened Feyre to match make. To Lucien's credit he doesn’t actively encourage the behavior and seems to resent the interference. I respect him for that and for not pursuing me despite the pressure to do so. It is one of the reasons I relented and asked him out. He is just as much a victim of the town rumor mill as me. He has no choice and neither do I. But, our date was a nightmare and I'm convinced now more than ever that we aren't meant to be. I also can't get past his comments. Lucien holds power and influence. If he decides to bad mouth me to the town, I would never break out of the cage I’m in. Feyre asked about the date and I said it was fine. She wanted more details but I’ve successfully dodged her since then. Tonight, I won’t be so lucky. I only hope Lucien didn't tell my sister I’m the problem. I also don't want to pretend we’re dating. I don't know what to do. I know if I go to Nesta she would put an end to the whole thing. But, I’m a grown woman and I want to handle it myself. What I need is some courage and confidence.

I peruse my closet picking out one of my favorite dresses, a baby pink sundress with a sweetheart neckline. It’s held up by delicate flower embroidered straps. The knee length skirt flared from a tight fitting bodice and a sweet little bow cinches around my bust. I pair it with nude opened toed sandals. I paint my nails a pastel lavender shade and wear my hair down in natural loose waves. If I can't feel my best, I’ll at least look my best. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Azriel may be there, nothing at all.

As usual, I baked a cake to bring with me. It’s a victoria sponge with a chantilly champagne cream frosting paired with ripe berries. I fasten the cake carrier to the fender of my bicycle and head to the town house. It’s just a short 10 minute ride. I pull up to Feyre's street and see Azriel's black Harley parked out front and smile. I walk up the steps and before I can knock, the door swings open. Cassian bellows out, “cake’s here.” Then his gaze sweeps over me and he whistles loudly. “Damn Lainey, looking good.” Nesta knocks him to the side with an elbow to the ribs. “Get away you pervert.” Cassian smiles like a wicked smile, “you know, if you're interested I could show you just how perverted I can be.” Nesta, without looking at him coolly says, “I'd rather die.” I fight a grin, these two are either going to kill each other or get married one day. Cassian grabs the cake carrier and starts running toward the kitchen. I hear Rhysand chide him in the distance, “gentle feet, big boy.”

Nesta grabs my arm and pulls me inside. “I heard you had a date with Lucien. Say the word and I will castrate him without a second thought.” I can't help it, I snort out a laugh. Nesta is a lot sometimes but she loves me fiercely. She’s 100% sincere which might alarm someone else but I find it endearing. I pat her shoulder, “it was awkward and as terrible as you can imagine. I dont think it's going to work out. Hopefully Feyre drops it.” Nesta rolls her eyes, “of course it was terrible, it's Lucien for gods sake. As for Feyre, she's like a dog with a bone. I'll do my best to bring her to heel.” I groan, “please don't fight.” Nesta merely huffs and storms away, I assume to find Feyre.

I walk into the foyer and as if summoned, Lucien walks up. He looks hesitant like if he makes any sudden movements I might run away like a frightened doe. “Hi Elain,” he says nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hello,” I say, faking a smile. He clears his throat, “so, I wanted to talk to you about the date. I apologize for having to leave. I told Feyre the date was cut short because of an emergency. She asked when I was going to make it up to you but I wasn't sure what to say. So, I told her I was busy.”

I nod. “You are very busy and I have my shop. I think it's best if we focus our energy elsewhere.” His face relaxes in relief. “What will you tell Feyre?” He asks, apprehensive. “Don't worry about Feyre, I can always unleash Nesta, if needed.” He smiles which quickly fades into a wince. “Just don't sick her on me.” Before I can think better of it, I reply in a sing-song voice, “no promises.”

I leave Lucien in the foyer and head into the living room. My eyes search for Azriel to no avail. I do, however, see Mor. Feyre rushes to greet me. She gives me a big hug and whispers, “sorry about your date with Lucien, the next one will be better.” I groan internally. Feyre takes my hand and leads me directly to Mor. “Elain, you remember me talking about Rhys’ cousin Mor?” I nod and wring my hands out. I forgot Mor might be here.

Feyre turns, looking toward a crashing sound and Cassian's curse. She sighs, “give me a minute.” Mor gives me a megawatt smile and grabs my hand, “Oh Elain! I've heard so much about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet you… and oh my gods that is such a sexy dress. You are stunning!” I blush at her attention. Feyre already left the room, missing Mor's praise. Of course she missed it . I manage to squeak out a thank you. Mor grabs my hand and tugs me into the corner, “Just so you know, I'm not seeing Azriel.” I look at her surprised. She smiles and laughs lightly, “you must think I'm crazy but I couldn't help but notice the way he looked at you the other night and I want to let you know I'm not an obstacle.” I just stare at her, what does she mean he looked at me. But, Mor just barrels ahead talking so fast she barely breathes, “the two of you together would make such a hot combo.” She does the chef's kiss gesture. “He's grumpy and your sunshine. He's all dark and mysterious and you look all innocent and pure but I know a freak in the sheets when I see one.” She leans in and whispers, “it's always the quiet ones.” I turn crimson, like the deepest shade of red a person can be. I don't need a mirror to know it because my cheeks are literally on fire. She just winks at me and walks away. Leaving me completely dumbstruck.

I don't have much time to mull her words over because Cassian is being dragged over to me, he’s bleeding. Feyre sighs, “damn it Cassian, you bleed every time you come here.” I laugh because it’s true. “It's not my fault you keep sharp glass sculptures laying around.” Rhysand walks up, “Do you mean vases? And by laying around do you mean sitting on a table?” Cassian mutters under his breath, “smug bastard.” Rhys pretends he didn't hear it and winks at then kisses my cheek and tells me I look beautiful. Such a charmer. I glance back at Cassian and shake my head. “Come on Rambo, let's get you cleaned up.” He beams at me, “I love it when you play nurse.” Somewhere off in the distance Nesta groans. I take Cassian up to the second floor bathroom where the first aid kit is kept. He has a gash down his left forearm.

He bumps, falls and straight up crashes into things so often it has become routine for Feyre to stash medical supplies in all her homes. I was trained as a nurse before I opened my shop. Father was disabled and needed extra help. But it was never my dream, just a means to help my family and save on in-home care. After he died, I used my inheritance to open my shop. But, I am now the de facto care giver, in more ways than one, to the Inner Circle. I clean Cassian up as he tells me about a bar fight he broke up last weekend in Windhaven. He’s never one to say no to a fight. Thankfully he doesn't need stitches, it’s just a surface level cut. A bandage will do just fine. He thanks me, giving me a chaste kiss on the forehead before he bounds down the stairs.

I sit on the edge of the tub as I clean up the bloody mess. For a surface wound it sure did bleed a lot. “Why is there blood on you?” Azriel says as he drops to his knees, taking my hands in his. He looks them over searching for an injury. “It's Cassian's, he knocked over the foyer table.” Azriel lets out a long suffering sigh. “Nurse Elain to the rescue, I see.” He grabs a clean washcloth from under the sink and begins to wipe my hands off. His touch is gentle and his skin rough. “At least he didn't ask me to kiss it better this time,” I joke. His hands stills, a flash of anger across his face. I quickly add, “he does that sometimes in front of Nesta to get a rise out of her.” Azriel shakes his head, “when she's around it's like he has no common sense.” I agree but I think it is sweet, endearing even. He lets go of my hands and sits the cloth on the sink.

“I heard Lucien will be joining us,” he says, not a single shred of emotion on his flawless face. “He’s already here. I saw him when I arrived.” He looks at me, studying my face. “Feyre seems to think you two are going out again, is that true?” I sigh and rub my forehead, “she's convinced we’re soul mates, half the town agrees with her but we're not.” I’m so tired of this situation but I don't know how to end it. “Lucien isn't interested. I'm not interested. But that doesn't seem to matter.” He nods reassuringly and asks gently, “why not tell Feyre?” I purse my lips together, “I have a dozen different ways. The more I object the more she's convinced I’m harboring feelings but I’m just too afraid to admit it. I've given up on trying to get my sisters to hear me. They hear what they want to hear.” Azriel scrunches his forehead, “why not date someone else.” I snort a bitter laugh, “Who would that be? Like I said the town is on Feyre's side or convinced Lucien and I are already dating.”

I want to stop talking but once I start opening up to Azriel it’s like the floodgates have opened and it is impossible to stop. “Turns out the only man I'm allowed to date isn't even interested.” Azriel sits up straighter, “He told you that?” I fight back tears as I say, “You were there, he ditched me. That was after I overheard him on the phone with his friend when he thought I was in the bathroom. He wanted him to call and make up an excuse. He said…” I sniffle weakly, “ he said I was boring and too meek for him. A snoozefest” Azriel shoots to his feet, “that son of a bitch.” He paces around the small bathroom like a bull in a china shop, “I'll kill him. Just say the word.” I grab his hand and he stops moving, his eyes focused on the point of connection. “First of all, Nesta called dibs on killing him years ago. Second, you’re already on thin ice with the streaking incident. And Third,” I let out a long painful exhale. “You can't kill him for being honest.” I look away, my lower lip quivering. His pointer finger hooks under my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. He is so tall I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes. His eyes have such a tender expression, “He’s wrong Elain.” I shake my head then whisper softly, “No, he isn't.” Before he can reply, we hear Mor calling for us from the foot of the stairs. I brush past him without another word and head for the dining room.

Azriel

Deciding where to sit for dinner is a shit show. Elain hasn't taken her seat because Lucien hasn't taken his seat. She is waiting for him to sit so she can avoid him. Lucien is having an animated chat with Cassian about an upcoming hockey game. I suspect Elain is waiting for Lucien because she keeps looking at him and rolling her eyes or huffing. It would be amusing if I wasn't waiting for her to sit. So, I decided to speed things along. “Cass, I just so you know Nesta plans to sit across from Amren.” He gives me a confused look and says “So.” I shrug, “I just thought you should know. I heard her tell Feyre that if she was stuck staring at your ugly mug again she would pluck her eyes out.” Did this happen? Yes. Today? No. But it is something I've heard Nesta say more than once. Cassian, never one to pass up an opportunity to annoy Nesta springs into action. Ditching Lucien mid conversation, like I knew he would. Lucien looks at me, his eyes studying as if I were a puzzle he’s trying to solve. I don’t like it, I think about punching him. Thinking about punching him might be my new favorite pastime. The man has the most beautiful woman in the world on a silver platter and somehow manages to fuck it up. And I don't mean physical beauty, though, my gods she is devastatingly gorgeous. That dress she's wearing, that hair, and that perfectly plump ass. I think I might groan.

It’s her inner beauty that I find so breathtaking. Elain is the kind of person who remembers your favorite cookie and makes it for you on your birthday. She is empathetic and kind, even when most people aren’t. Most remarkable of all she chooses hope, even when the rest of us would have caved to despair. That's why it kills me to stand in front of Lucien and not deck him. But, I hold back, for her. I would do anything to spare her suffering. That doesn't mean I will hide my disgust with him. His eyes catch on my sneer and he blanches. He wisely decides to take his seat. Cassian sits across from Nesta. Lucien sits next to Cassian and closest to Feyre at the head of the table. Rhysand sits to the other side of Feyre and next to Amren. Mor sits on the other side of Cassian and I take the seat next to Nesta, leaving the last seat for Elain. She walks over and I stand, pulling out the chair for her. She blushes, a shy smile on her face. Mor gives me a knowing look and I avoid looking at Rhys.

The table is covered in Chinese take out containers. I love Rhys and Feyre but neither one of them can cook. Which for a man of Rhys’s age is truly embarrassing. Feyre is the baby among us so she has an excuse. Rhys on the other hand is just spoiled. I watch as the table descends into chaos. Mor's grubby hands hoards several containers to dish out onto her plate. Cassian is eating directly from a container with no regard for anyone else. Feyre and Rhys are feeding each other with chopsticks in the most obnoxious display of PDA I’ve ever seen. I never thought I'd have to watch my brother suck a chopstick seductively, but here I am… horrified. Amren pokes at the edamame like it’s cancerous. She is one of those people who never drinks water or eats vegetables. Nesta just stares at Cassian with disgust. Lucien is shoveling food into his mouth as fast as possible, I assume so he can escape the dotting couple next him. I turn to Elain and whisper, “heathens the lot of them.” She giggles. Mor gapes at me, as a half eaten wonton falls from her mouth. While she’s distracted, I grab the containers from her and shovel food onto Elain's plate, then mine.

Conversation flows as it normally does, though Elain is unusually quiet. I want to cheer her up so I gently toe my boot into her shin and tilt my head toward Cassian. He has a piece of lo mein noodle stuck in his beard. Nesta is smiling at his stupidity which he is mistaken for flirting. Elain smiles. In a rare act of civility, Nesta subtly points to her chin trying to give Cass a heads up. The man is completely oblivious. Instead of cleaning his face he puckers his lip and blows a kiss. This catches Amren's attention, “Nesta doesn't want to kiss you, you idiot, there is a noodle in your beard.” Without an ounce of shame Cassian's tongue darts out as he tries to fish it from his beard. I look at my plate fighting back a laugh, then I hear a clunk and watch as Elain does the quiet shaking laugh I love so much. Our eyes meet and I blow her a kiss, just the way Cassian did to Nesta. She snicker snorts so loud everyone's head turns toward us. My smile drops completely, comically stoic in comparison to her which only makes her laugh harder. I bask in the warmth of her smile. I feel pride swell in my chest knowing I did that, I made her laugh. For a moment I feel like a prince, worthy of the princess of Hewn Hills. Then I notice the scowl on Rhys face and I'm brought back to reality.

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I’m stuffed. I indulged in one too many slices of Elain's cake. It was the most delicious thing I've ever had and I'm not much of a sweet tooth. I joined the guys in the study while the gals were catching up in the sunroom. Lucien left early to hang out with his other friends. So, it’s just the brothers together, at last. “How's the job going Az? Rhys asks as he nurses a whiskey. “It's barely going. I staked out the place for nearly a week and didn't see anything of note. I'm starting to think it's a waste of time.” Rhys sighs and looks at me, “maybe it's a good thing, you deserve a break.” Cassian hums in agreement. “I've been to Amaranta's before and nothing serious has happened. Sure there are some rough looking duds but no one seems shady.” I look at Rhys and give him a knowing smile, “Cass, did you or did you not brag to Nesta you won a bar fight there last weekend?” He smiles, pure arrogance. “I win every fight.” Rhys shakes his head. “Tell me what happened,” I ask. He explains how some ZZ Top looking ass man, his words not mine, pistol whipped a fresh out of service army brat. Some sort of disagreement over who was sitting where. It seems petty and below my pay grade. “Rhys, do you have any intel on Kier?” Rhys isn’t in the mob or a sleazy politician like his father. He works in finance. Mor’s estranged father Kier however is a mobster and uses Rhys to manage his extensive portfolio of offshore accounts. Rhys isn’t technically a part of the ‘business’ but I know better, he’s cooking the books among other things. I normally don’t address the subject head on which is why he is looking at me like he wants to kill me. He doesn’t pry about my work and I don’t pry into his but I’m feeling more than a little salty. First, he chats up Feyre on my job and then he tries to cut me down with eyes at the dinner table for talking to Elain. Fuck that.

“Why do you want to know?” I shrug, “let’s just call it curiosity.” Rhys gives me a withering look. I don’t pull the fed card often, but I will if he makes me. He knows it too. “As far as I know, it’s business as usual.” I crack my knuckles, “and if business starts to be unusual?” He glares at me for a long moment, “are you asking as an agent or as the Shadowsinger.” I give him a knowing smirk, “Both, of course.” He sighs heavily, “you know I could make your life miserable if you push too hard.” I chuckle, “Rhys, we both know I keep more of your secrets than you do mine.” He looks murderous. On a handful of occasions we’ve come to blows over the years where our work has crossed paths. He likes to think he’s come out on top each time. But, he doesn’t know half of the things I do. We glare at each other before Cassian clears his throat, “you two are assholes. Just help each other out or I’ll drag you both outside and kick your asses.”

Rhys closes his eyes and I swear steam is shooting out of my nose. I tap my fingers impatiently. Rhys picks a piece of invisible lint off his shirt. “Godsdamn it,” Cassian shouts. Rhys binks first and grits out, “Fine.” I fight back a smug smile. “Kier’s accounts are the same as usual. But, he is asking to pull some funds aside for the import business. He hasn’t told me why though.” I nod, satisfied, “when you find out why, you’ll tell me.” Rhys slams a fist into the chair he is sitting at, “you’re giving me an order?” I sigh, his ego is getting out of hand. “It’s a polite suggestion.” That pisses him off even more. “A suggestion?” I smile at him. I never really smile and he looks unsettled. Good, you should be. “I’d never dream of ordering you around, brother. I’m just looking out for you, so you don't end up trapped in the family business.” There’s a tense pause. Cassian mutters something under his breath. Rhys looks away more than a little ashamed. I don’t bring up the family business, his father, often but when I do he knows I’m not fucking around. He doesn’t know the full extent of his father’s crimes or th role I was made to play but he knows enough. He gives me a slight nod and downs his glass of whiskey.

Cassian claps and says, “enough of that bullshit.” And just like that it’s in the past. We bounce from topic to topic for the next hour including Cassian’s plan to open a fitness and self defense studio. We served in the special forces together and he has been saving since his G.I. Bill to purchase a studio of his own. He has been waiting for permits to get started and it finally seems like it was going to happen. “You're staying in Hewn Hills? Rhys askes. I nod. “You should stay at the townhouse. We spend most of our time in Velaris and would appreciate you keeping an eye on the place while we are away.” I get a flashback of Bernadette’s creepy smile. “Thanks, I'd be happy to look after the place.” After another round of drinks, Rhys shows me a guest room I can use. It’s Mor's old room and it’s… hideous. The bedding and curtains are bright fuchsia satin. There’s a leopard print chair in the corner and a mirrored dresser with crystal knobs. A collection of what looks like Precious Moments figurines littering every surface. She denies it but we all knew that she secretly loves those gaudy figurines. I immediately regret my choice as Rhys pats my shoulder and gives me a smug smirk. That sly bastard . I need to get out of this room before I punch him in the face.I bid them farewell. Opting to return to the study to top off my drink and revel in my quiet solitude.

#elriel #azriel x elain #elain x azriel #elriel fic #elriel fanfic

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referenceshoteliers-blog · 5 months ago

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maharghaideovate · 11 months ago

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Working Professionals' Guide to Distance learning MBA in India

Let's be honest, the daily grind can feel real. You've aced your way into a good job, but that nagging ambition keeps whispering – the itch to climb higher, to become a leader in your field. An MBA gleams like a golden ticket, promising prestige and career advancement. But how, as a busy young professional do you even consider fitting it all in? A distance learning MBA program is best suited for you.

This guide isn't a dry list of steps; it's your battle plan. We'll navigate the world of Distance MBAs, equip you with the knowledge to make informed decisions, and most importantly, show you how to balance work and studies like a pro.

Why Distance Learning is Your Best Friend

Remember those all-nighters in college cramming for exams? Don’t worry you don’t have to go through that anymore. Distance Learning is all about flexibility – the ultimate perk for busy young professionals like us. Imagine devouring lectures during your morning commute it’s a bonus for avoiding rush hour traffic , tackling assignments on a lazy Sunday afternoon after brunch with friends, or even participating in online discussions late into the night because hey, some nights you just can't put down that fascinating marketing case study! Gone are the rigid schedules and the "oh no, I missed a class!" panic attacks. You control the pace, catering your studies to your existing commitments.

Here's another secret most people don't know: Distance MBA colleges are typically easier on the wallet compared to their full-time counterparts. Since universities don't have to deal with the same overhead costs, the financial burden for students is significantly reduced. This is a major win, especially when you're managing real-world budgets and those weekend getaways you deserve.

Choosing Your Perfect Program: Don't Settle!

There is an ocean of Distance MBA programs available in India, choosing the right one is crucial. Here are some factors to consider:

Accreditation is King: This ensures the program meets the highest academic standards. Look for universities with UGC-DEB (University Grants Commission - Distance Education Bureau) approval. This is your quality check! Find Your Niche: Distance MBAs often offer specializations in areas like Finance, Marketing, or Human Resource Management. Choose a specialization that aligns with your career goals and helps you stand out from the crowd. Research is Your Weapon: Don't take a university's brochure at face value. Dive deeper – research the university's reputation, faculty expertise, and student reviews. Look for programs with experienced professors who can provide valuable industry insights. Remember, you're investing in your future, so choose wisely! Industry Recognition Matters: Make sure the program you choose is respected by potential employers in your field. Check if companies you aspire to work for value graduates from this particular program. After all, the ultimate goal is career advancement! Think about the companies you dream of working for and see if their websites mention specific MBA programs they favor.

Conquering the Application Process:

The application process at some of the best accredited online MBA programs is typically straightforward. Most programs require a Bachelor's degree with a minimum percentage (usually around 50%) and may have work experience requirements. Some universities might require entrance exams like MAH-CET (Maharashtra Common Entrance Test) or NMAT (Narsee Monjee Management Aptitude Test). Don't sweat these exams! Prepare accordingly – the internet is filled with resources for test prep and skill development. Utilize online practice tests, brush up on your business fundamentals, and remember, a positive attitude goes a long way.

Scholarships: Your Financial Ally

Let's face it – education can be expensive. However, numerous scholarships are available specifically for working professionals pursuing Distance learning MBA courses. These are offered by universities, government agencies, and even private institutions. Explore all available options to minimize the financial burden. Think of scholarships as your secret weapon to conquer those tuition fees!

Bonus Tip: The Power of Networking

Don't underestimate the power of networking! Once you've enrolled in your program, connect with your classmates online or even try to form a local study group. Not only will you gain valuable insights and support from peers, but you might also build lasting professional connections. Remember, your classmates could be your future colleagues or even business partners!

Remember, You've Got This!

Earning a Distance MBA takes dedication, but the rewards are worth it. You'll not only gain valuable knowledge and skills but also the confidence and leadership qualities to take your career to the next level. Network with your classmates and professors, utilize the resources available, and most importantly, believe in yourself. With hard work and a dash of perseverance, you'll be well on your way to conquering that Distance MBA and achieving your dreams.

#distance learning mba #distance mba colleges #best accredited online mba programs

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spicezonevisa5 · 1 year ago

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#Travel agency in Dubai for visa #dubai #burj khlifa #uae #Dubai city

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metamoonshots · 1 year ago

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[ad_1] With the vacation procuring season simply beginning and costs of many client items persevering with to rise, saving cash can appear unimaginable. However these monetary pressures additionally make doing so much more necessary. “Saving is your margin,” says Eric Maldonado, a licensed monetary planner and proprietor of Aquila Wealth Advisors. “When issues occur — your automobile breaks down or there’s a layoff, or smaller stuff like items for the vacations — you may have one thing to fall again on.” Maldonado notes that saving may also can help you have cash for enjoyable issues. The non-public financial savings price for People has been dropping in the previous few months, and as of July was 3.5%, in accordance with the U.S. Bureau of Financial Evaluation. Maldonado recommends aiming for a financial savings price nearer to twenty% of your take-home revenue. “You'll be able to dwell off of 80% and put 20% towards deferred gratification,” he suggests. That steering matches the favored 50/30/20 budget, which suggests placing 50% of your take-home revenue towards wants, 30% towards desires, and 20% towards financial savings and any debt funds. “If you happen to’re simply beginning out, then it may be too daunting, however you may work towards it,” Maldonado provides. Plus: Moonlighting as a car valet, tending bar and moving back home: Borrowers get ready for the return of student-loan payments If you happen to’re on the lookout for methods to energy up your financial savings, contemplate these methods:Pause earlier than shopping for “One of many largest errors individuals make is shopping for belongings you don’t want,” says Vivian Tu, writer of the forthcoming guide “Wealthy AF: The Successful Cash Mindset That Will Change Your Life” and a TikTok influencer who posts as @YourRichBFF. To counter that tendency, she recommends “taking a beat” earlier than making any buy. “Actually ask your self, ‘Why do I would like that factor? What makes it particular?’” she suggests. Tu says asking herself that query helped her cut back on materials purchases so she had more cash for experiences, like holidays and brunches with associates. Don’t miss: Prozac for shopaholics? Compulsive shopping is a real disorder—how to recognize if you have a serious problem.Unfold out the influence of huge bills For large bills which can be on the horizon, Cary Carbonaro, a CFP and senior vice chairman at monetary advisory agency ACM Wealth, recommends setting apart a small amount of cash every month so the ultimate value doesn’t overwhelm your price range. “If you’re going to spend $1,200 at Christmas, then put apart $100 a month for the entire 12 months,” Carbonaro suggests. “All people overspends in December until you budgeted for it.”Strive curbside pickup When Ryan Greiser, a CFP and founding father of the monetary agency Opulus, and his spouse observed their bank card invoice going up with inflation, they brainstormed methods to chop again. Certainly one of their most profitable concepts was counting on on-line grocery ordering with curbside pickup. “We observed that if we did curbside pickup, our invoice was $50 to $100 lower than if we went into the shop as a result of we solely purchased the issues on our checklist. It lowered impulse buys and allowed us to simply examine costs and coupons that popped up on the display screen,” Greiser says. Given their weekly procuring wants for a household with three younger youngsters, that shift allowed them to avoid wasting $200 to $400 a month.Rotate subscriptions Greiser and his household additionally began saving $10 to $30 a month by rotating their streaming subscriptions based mostly on what exhibits they had been at the moment watching. “We preserve one or two energetic subscriptions and cancel the remainder or pause it when a present wraps up so we are able to rotate to the subsequent one,” he says, including that he units a reminder on his calendar so he doesn’t overlook to cancel. Equally, he pauses his health subscriptions when the climate is sweet sufficient to train outdoors.

“They're month to month, really easy to pause and restart,” he says. Study extra: How to maximize your streaming dollar in October 2023, and why Netflix is all you really needAsk for reductions Talking up for your self is one other saving technique. “You've energy as a client,” Tu says. Which means you may ask your financial institution to waive late charges or overcharge charges, or ask for a reduction on sneakers which have a scuff on them. “Be well mannered, be type, however you might be entitled and perceive that your online business has worth,” she provides. The reply is perhaps “no,” however there’s no purpose to not ask, and it'd simply prevent some cash. Additionally see: Do you know your credit card’s interest rate? Here’s how much a few percentage points can cost you over time.Store round for insurance coverage Discover reductions on the payments you don’t take a look at fairly often, too. As an alternative of letting your private home and auto insurance coverage auto-renew every month, contemplate taking time to shop around by way of a web based comparability device. When Greiser did that, he ended up saving a complete of $1,000 on his bundled auto and residential insurance coverage plan.Join cash-back apps Common cash-back apps like Rakuten, Ibotta and RetailMeNot can help you earn money again for on-line procuring after you arrange an account. “I extremely advocate utilizing cash-back apps,” Tu says. “I do know it looks like sort of a ache to enroll, however it can save you tons of of dollars a 12 months as a result of it helps you to get money again on purchases you had been already making.” Learn: I made nearly $1,400 using cash-back app Rakuten — and you can do the same Typically making the additional effort pays off, proper into your financial savings account. Extra From NerdWallet Kimberly Palmer writes for NerdWallet. Electronic mail: [email protected]. Twitter: @kimberlypalmer. [ad_2]

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beingjellybeans · 1 year ago

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Brunch Bureau: A Delightful Brunch Haven for Titas... and more!

Titas of Manila, let me introduce you to the newest hidden gem in the heart of Makati—Brunch Bureau! Nestled discreetly on the second floor of the Proscenium 1 Office Building in Rockwell Center, this cozy cafe is destined to be your go-to spot for a leisurely and delectable brunch experience with your beloved amigas. A Peek into Paradise: Ambiance and Vibe Brunch Bureau welcomes you with an…

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sfppn · 2 years ago

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#TimeShared - Day 3

Ashland, VA Latitude 37.45 degrees Longitude 77.28 degrees

Reporting from a new state. We started back in Charlotte, when we decided not to go back to the comic convention--we saw all we were going to see, and we had all the fun. So, we moved onto Sunday brunch at Vicious Biscuit. Wow, that was a LOT of food. We shared beignets, I had a "Fat Boy" (fried chicken biscuit with pimento cheese), and Mindy had the "Vicious Benny" (Eggs Benedict in biscuit form). It was great, but we had to continue with food comas.

Our next stops involved giant furniture--Thomasville, a quiet town that used to crank out furniture, has a giant chair that Presidents have sat in:

High Point, a surprisingly large town with tons of design shops, has a giant chest of drawers (which has a bureau inside it--there's a whole saga at roadsideamerica.com):

And Jamestown has a giant highboy inside a gate for a complex of furniture stores:

Meanwhile, Greensboro has a downtown square devoted to O. Henry:

Crossing into Virginia, there's an old shoe factory that is now a hotel. Bring in the giant heels!

We decided to shoot for the Richmond area tonight, so we're ready for tomorrow--a state house, and the reason this is called #timeshared. We finished the day with serviceable Mexican food--nothing to write home about.

#TimeShared #north carolina #virginia

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randomingoftherandomness · 1 month ago

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Fam. FAM. YOU TAG ME HERE ON THIS FIRST DAY OF THE NEW YEAR OF OUR LORD TWENTY TWENTY FIVE. You bless me with this??? Oh. OH. Fam….

You get a little fic while I’m working through my new year brunch food coma ( ˘ ³˘)♥ you’re really feeding my budding kink for dacryphilia

@missisjoker

—

Li Lin is no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh. He has, after all, witnessed the rise and fall of empires and the hunger of men and immortals. The sweetness of a beauty is always bright on his tongue. Sweeter still when they come with a bit of spice in their veins. They all fade into a sea of faceless memories when it’s over, but somehow in all the ages, he has never met anyone quite like Zhuo Yichen.

The heir of the Bingyi Clan, inheritor of the Cloud Light sword. Commander of the Demon Hunting Bureau, sworn to kill the great demon Zhu Yan, yet his most ardent defender and his half-disciple. Even from the beginning, Li Lun had been intrigued.

And then there was the matter with the tears.

Tears of a descendant of Bingyi that was blessed to soothe any burning fire. Tears that brought Li Lun the first taste of relief after an eon of pain.

Of course he had to steal him away from Zhu Yan.

Of course, he had to keep him.

A threat had to be used. Easy enough to plant a thorn in their little healer, easier still to state his demands that Zhu Yan’s little ragtag bunch hand over their Xiao Zhuo-daren in exchange for a cure. Li Lun is under no illusion that they won’t be mounting a rescue within the month at most, but a month is enough to squeeze out every ounce of tears he can get out the mortal.

Choking and slamming him against the hard surfaces of his cave was a start to sparking a few tears here and there, but for all that the tears had been soothing on his bare skin, Li Lun quickly lost his appetite for any violence when it came to Zhuo Yichen. Especially since the man puts up no token of a fight against him beyond a weak grip to his forearms when the choking is too much.

Li Lun heals him after each and every time. He doesn’t know why he does it.

And then.

And then, it clicks. The tang of arousal thick on his tongue. The way blue eyes spark lust dark when Li Lun holds him just so, presses him down just right. The soft whispers of a gasp through parted lips, a blush high on pale cheeks when the first tears slide down his skin.

And the unmistakable press of ardour when Li Lun bullies a thigh between Zhuo Yichen’s unresisting hips.

He chases. He pushes. In reciprocation, as if Zhuo Yichen’s breakable, fragile human body rewards him for the effort, the tears he laps up on his tongue, with his kisses, bring him a measure of peace he has not felt in the longest time.

Every single time he thinks he has found the man’s bottom line, he finds himself breathless with awe and delight when he realises that Zhuo Yichen has none. Not when it comes to Li Lun.

The demon wonders if the man ever had any at all.

By the time Zhu Yan and his misfits break through the barriers that keep him captive, what they find is Li Lun grumpily hushing them and telling them to wait outside while he wakes the sleeping beauty in his arms.

The looks he receives from Zhu Yan’s motley crew of mongrels is easy to ignore, less so the knowing look from his old friend. Not that his good opinion truly matters to him these days, he thinks, gently kissing rosebud lips until they hum and tremble into wakefulness.

Li Lun takes his time dressing his still bleary-eyed darling. Pressing soothing touches over any aches and pains he had marked onto Zhuo Yichen’s human body the night before. He smiles when a large yawn prickles twin tears in the corner of sleepy eyes. Kissing them away, he sighs softly at the way he feels the man nuzzle back into his jawline.

When Zhuo Yichen uses the Cloud Light sword to break his chains and holds out a hand for him to take, Li Lun does not resist the pull to slide their palms together.

For this, he knows why he does it.

Prompt? Prompt. Zhuo Yichen x Li Lun.

Just like Baize token makes Baize Goddess's tears healing and cleansing, Bing Yi's water/ice magic ancestry makes Zhuo Yichen's tears soothing and able to subdue fire in all its forms even before ZYC gets a headshot of Bing Yi's last drop of blood.

Obviously, nobody knows about it because it's not like members of Bing Yi clan just walk around flinging their tears at everyone, right?

However, one particular highly flammable demon accidentally notices.

***

The first time ZYC and Li Lun fight and Li Lun chokes him, ZYC's tear flows down his cheek and touches Li Lun's hand. Li Lun immediately feels a gush of relief, and the pain in his veins dulls. He ... doesn't know what it is, but decides to investigate.

The second time he deliberately chokes ZYC and gets a tear on his skin, the effect is undeniable- it IS ZYC's tear that subdues the smoldering fire in his body and grants him temporary relief. (It's not even his real body, just some meat bag he possesses, which makes Li Lun wonder just how much ZYC's tears would alleviate his pain when they physically meet).

So, he cooks up a plan.

He puts a little piece of a vine inside Bai Ju, next to the boy's heart, and threatens the company that if ZYC doesn't leave with him and doesn't do whatever he wants, he will let that piece of vine travel a little further and split Bai Ju's heart in half. They can have their precious ZYC back - and Bai Ju safe- if they can figure out how to get the ever-burning fire out of him. Until then, ZYC is his.

ZYC agrees, and willingly leaves to find Li Lun in his cave in Wilderness. He is magically locked inside with a very impatient and suffering demon while the company desperately tries to come up with how to save him and Bai Ju.

Li Lun is right- when ZYC's tear touches his real skin, the ever-burning fire subsides tremendously. And so, ZYC keeps getting choked once every 24 hours or so, and in between, they just verbally spar and bicker. When he is not in excruciating pain, Li Lun starts to begrudgingly realize why ZYZ is so fascinated with humans and why he seems so attached to his particular one.

Then, when several days pass, ZYC becomes very weak and passes out. Li Lun is at his side in an instant, confused (he didn't torture him aside from some occasional choking, so what could be wrong?) And then Ao Yin reminds him that humans, unlike demons, actually need to eat, and Li Lun goes "oh, crap!", and sends her to get the food.

Of course, ZYC is faking the fainting spell; he's not some porcelain princess; a few days without food won't do him in like that. He just heard LL and Ao Yin talking about the vine curse and came up with a plan of escape. What he doesn't expect AT ALL is the demon cradling him in his arms, whispering things like "Why are humans so weak and easily breakable" and flooding his body with his demonic energy to wake him up. The more tears Li Lun got out of ZYC, the more the smoke surrounding Li Lun's real body dissipated- and considering that Li Lun chooses to frolic around his cave half-naked, ZYC has been struggling with gay awakening this whole time. And now, instead of escaping, he is nestled on Li Lun's lap, with the demon's hands touching his face, neck, all over his body, with that raspy voice whispering right into his ear, and it bothers ZYC so much he breaks the act.

He is pushed onto the ground in the same instant, the demon growling above him, "You little shit." ZYC tries to struggle, but Li Lun just pins him down harder - the demon is much stronger, always has been - and puts his weight into the hold. Being choked or held in a vice-like grip is one thing, but having a whole lithe demon press along your body while those gorgeous pitch-black eyes stare down at you is another, and it's just too much. ZYC feels his body react to the proximity, and the more he struggles to get away, the stronger the reaction becomes. Heat and embarrassment creep up his cheeks while the demon studies him, then nuzzles ZYC's neck, making ZYC shiver, and smirks, "You're enjoying this." A single tear of mortification falls down ZYC's eyelash and gets promptly whipped off by Li Lun. The demon then rubs ZYC's lower lip and tells him, "you're not getting away from me, Xiao Zhuo" and ZYC feels like he's about to get devoured.

The demon leaves at the same moment, and ZYC crawls back to his corner of shame while dark eyes follow his every move.

(Li Lun has an epiphany of his own- since ZYC invaded his cave, he's been growing more and more attached to the human despite all the attempts to the contrary. When he saw ZYC faint, he felt a pang of fear that he had hurt the boy too much. But when he realized the boy was faking, he got furious - and yet, his hand stilled away from doing any real harm. He realized, to his horror, that he didn't want to hurt the human anymore, but he still needed the tears.... And then, oh. OH. The sweet honey, lilacs and musk of arousal. The more ZYC struggled under him, the stronger the smell became. Li Lun couldn't help but breath it in, savoring it, making the boy he was holding blush and try to hide away from his gaze. A tear rolled down ZYC's soft cheek and Li Lun smiled, the boy was just so sensitive, such an easy crier, the demon hasn't even done anything yet...

And that was the moment when the new plan was hatched. Perhaps, there were other means to make ZYC cry - pleasurable to both parties. Li Lun was definitely going to try the theory out.

***

On the downside, when the company finally presented Li Lun with a cure and got ZYC out of the cave, he could barely walk (even though it was not because of any torture)

On the bright side, the company got a second great demon without suicidal tendencies that, once cured, had a perfectly functioning brain cell and helped them take down the big bad without anyone dying.

***

@randomingoftherandomness

#happy new year to all my moots!!!#here’s to a new year filled with much possibilities ❤️#fangs of fortune #li lun #zhuo yichen #fangs of fortune fic #gab writes stuff

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whiskey-bumblebee · 2 years ago

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Thank you for the other blurb, bestie 😌 I'm back because I'm insufferable and love your writing lmao 😂 another dream gift would be an array of paint and spray paint to do my paintings along with somewhere to do them. OR a huge truck with all the extra bells and whistles. (I don't care what kind of truck it is, I just really want one 😭) thanks in advance 😄

welcome back bestie! pleasure to have you 😌 please enjoy! I went for the painting option for as little as I know about instruments, I know even less about cars lol

oops! I added a whole subplot. and renovation politics commentary

divider courtesy of @tommyytalks (and isn’t it pretty!)

You're somewhat surprised to see Hotch's laptop open to a real estate website, looking at places in Fredericksburg. His house was so close to the Bureau, and easy driving distance from D.C. if he needed to go to the capital for any reason. Plus, his house was great! It was spacious, private, and as secure as a fortress (although it was lacking a moat...). You couldn't imagine him living anywhere else. More selfishly, you had hoped that he would talk to you about moving, since you had been living with him for a few months, letting the lease on your old apartment lapse.

Not wanting to seem like you'd been snooping, you don't bring it up with him, until you're at a brunch with him and some of your friends and their partners. Someone brings up the topic of investing, and you learn that one of your friends has bought a cabin in upstate New York, with the intention of renovating it and reselling it. From the pictures, you can tell it's a beautiful heritage building, and your friend points out all of the places where the ceiling is sagging, or the carpets show signs of water damage. She promises that she'll stay true to the character of the home, adding modern amenities to make the place more liveable, but otherwise focusing on returning it to its former glory.

You glance over at Hotch, and he nods, setting down his coffee.

"I've been looking at a place in Fredericksburg, it's an old loft that needs some TLC," He adds, and your friends nod. "I'd never want to leave our current place, but it could be nice to have something set up for retirement like Dave has."

Several months later, your friend has become far too attached to the property in New York to give it up. After weeks of picking out doorknobs which would be accurate for the 19th century home, ensuring the windows provided good insulation against the cold, and seeing the house blossom into something which looked much more like a home, they'd been considering the possibility of moving in.

"You could always set it up as a house museum," You comment. "They're popular in Rome, you could contact the state and ask if they'd be able to provide any funding for recovering the family's artefacts and things."

Meanwhile, you and Aaron had been doing up the loft. He asked you about which colours you thought would suit the space, whether you should leave the brick exposed or plaster the walls instead. You uncovered some beautiful wooden beams when working on the insulation in the ceiling, and decided to incorporate them into the loft's design scheme.

You're feeling sad about the prospect of renting the place out instead of living in it yourself, and when you think about how wealthy Aaron is already, the idea of charging another family to live in this home just doesn't sit well with you.

Your work picks up suddenly, with some external audit taking place, forcing you to work longer hours. You have less time for the loft, and Aaron reminds you that he's happy to pick up the slack. After all, he'd renovated his own home and found that whole process rather relaxing.

Then, weeks later, Aaron decides to treat you to a shopping trip in Fredericksburg, where there are many more options than near Quantico. Bags populate the car, mostly lingerie, some new tech you'd been needing, a couple of gourmet snacks.

He takes a turn you don't recognize as part of the route home, but you don't question it. Maybe he'd been listening to the traffic report on the radio and decided to take a different route. Before long, he's parking in front of an unimpressive building, and you give him the side eye.

"C'mon," He says, undoing his seat belt and taking the keys out of the ignition.

When you walk into the space, you realize that he's just taken you to the back side of the loft, which you didn't recognize since you'd always come in through the front.

"Oh, you finished it?" You try to muster your enthusiasm.

He nods, reaching for your hand as he leads you through it. There are some minimal furnishings; canvases, paint, lamps and lighting fixtures. A chair here or there. You look at the skylight and feel a twist in your chest. What a beautiful building.

"What do you think?" Aaron asks, his eyes gleaming.

"It's beautiful, are you renting it out to an artist?" You pick up a brush, turning it over in your fingers, glancing over the shelves stocked with turpentine, mineral oil, paints, argan oil for deep-conditioning the brushes.

He ignores your question, shrugging. Maybe he can feel your resistance, you think. Maybe he doesn't want to say any details in case I get upset.

He leads you back outside, and you notice that there's a small lot out the back you hadn't seen before. A metal shelf holds a number of bottles of spray paint in varying shades. Aaron tosses you a can, and you barely catch it, confused.

"Want to start making it your own?"

You cock your head at him. "My own?"

He presses the keys into your hands. "I'm sorry for lying to you. It's not a retirement property. I'm not going to rent it out."

"It's..."

"Your new studio," He grinned. "With an outdoor space for spray painting so you don't have to wear a respirator if you don't want to."

"Hotch," You whisper. "It's perfect."

"Not to sound cocky," He pauses. "But, I know. You designed it."

It finally clicks in your head, him acquiescing to each of your suggestions for which colours the walls should be, what kinds of lighting each part of the open-plan space needed...

You grin. "You're sneaky."

He wraps his arm around your shoulders. "When I need to be."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #my writing

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lillianabluejeans · 2 years ago

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Turns out i already had the perfect ficlet for today's prompt! It's a little old, but I still like it. This is set in 8th bird lilli au, the morning after crystal kingdom.

@taznovembercelebration Jewellery or blanket

Snow crunches pleasantly underfoot as Lucretia walks up to Lilliana's house. It's a nice place in a tucked away corner of Neverwinter with lots of yard space. It's almost like a cottage. She reaches the door and stands there for a moment. She needs to just drop the box and vanish, but she gives herself a moment to think about what it would be like to knock and be invited in. Sit around all together and have brunch and cake and shower her with gifts and love.

She shakes the image away, and before she can move to put the box down, the door swings open.

The woman in the door, Lilli's wife Aleena, looks at her with mild confusion. "Can I help you?"

Lucretia wills away her deer-in-headlights shock and says, "I'm sorry, I- I came to deliver this," she lifts the box, "it's a birthday gift for Lilliana."

Aleena looks over the package, and Lucretia sees her eyes skip over the bureau logo on it. She lifts her eyes and takes Lucretia in with more scrutiny than she did initially. Her neutral expression sinks and settles into cold displeasure. Her spine straightens and she crosses her arms. "I take it you're the director, then."

"Um," there's no point in lying, Lilliana must have described her, "yes. Typically I would just wait until she came back on base, but I feel bad for interrupting her break last night with our, ah, predicament."

"So you decided to interrupt again."

Lucretia fumbles for a response, "I- uh- sorry. I'm only here to give her this."

Aleena's frown deepens. "She's still sleeping."

Lucretia may not be the most socially adept person in the world, but she gets the distinct feeling that this woman doesn't like her.

"That's fine!" She holds the box out to her, "you can take it. I don't want to be a bother."

Aleena takes it, feels the weight for a moment. "What is it?"

"A blanket," she's just wishing for this interaction to end. She may be the leader of a secret organization, but Aleena's glare cuts straight through her. "I noticed she doesn't like the cold. I thought it'd be fitting." Her half sun elf genes plus that one time they lost her to a frozen climate turned her into a gremlin for warmth. The blanket is a nice hand-crafted one Barry got her on a particularly cold cycle.

Aleena tucks the box under her arm. "Okay. Is that all?"

Lucretia can see when she's not wanted. "Yes. Sorry again for interrupting."

Aleena says, "sure," and closes the door in her face. The click of the lock feels very pointed.

Lucretia wills her racing heart to relax as she makes her way back down the front path. She's glad that Lilli found the tall protective wife of her dreams, but fantasy jesus is she scary. The way Aleena glared at her, she would almost worry that she knew something she shouldn't about the redaction, but her eyes skipped over the bureau logo, exactly the way they should've.

#taz fic #blupjeans baby #taz au #taz lucretia #aleena isnt even part of the bureau but she knows that this whole business is more trouble than it's worth #but it's important to lilli that she see this through so aleena's supportive

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whitmanners · 1 year ago

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@agentthoreau's sense of... well, sense is an enduring enemy.

THE workplace is charted territory, whitman knows in his jolting, jilted heart of hearts. since the decade of disco balls and nixon memoirs he has (double)crossed chronological paths with confidence, bounded over political boundaries with conviction that would be considered criminal if not for the convergence of employment booms and militant booms and luck so dumb it has joined the components of luminiferous ether. whatever minor adjustments have been made to the office in the past four years should be nothing to him, just as he is nothing to the rest of them. the people who come and go, the people who never left. the people who are flipping through calendars of the fiendish fifties pretending that preventing that provocation of a school alarm will save millions (everyone is a number, whitman has never been good at math, put two and two together and you get a white flag), the people who are combusting alongside their little cylindrical papers because london is blowing their life’s work up and blowing off their negotiation efforts. his people. their faces are flickering street lamps, incandescence condescending now that he has experienced being a person with nothing to do rather than a part of people with nothing to do. herd immunity or herd mentality? whitman feels hunted by thoreau either way. it’s a break from the hauntings. it’s still not a pleasant feeling.

his own cubicle is embittered by his return, he decides, jutting out where whitman aims to collect his wits and the balls that have rolled to thoreau’s feet. vertigo or shame? one and the same, he decides, one stone for a flock. he stands to give thoreau the salute she deserves minus any trace of dignity and then crouches to find where flea market find numero redacted has gone.

“nature abhors a vacuum. so does my bank account.” he shrugs at her initial comment on his initial grave digging. then, in case more room must be made for his remains, his shoulders tense with a lie: “i was a party clown for a week. noble profession for the strongest of god’s soldiers. the bureau’s productivity quotas? dust in the trail of frank shorter, frankly.”

have you done something to your hair? is cursory, careless. men have hacked at amateur weather reports until they were put upon the olympic pedestal of hackneyed small talk next to pregnancy schedules impregnated with more product placement than a twenty-first century feature film and business cards that have no business being exchanged at brunch and nowadays it is developing cosmetics they flirt at being concerned with, the teasing and the cutting and the rest that raphael had paid no mind to. raphael does not have any mind to pay that fee, no madam president, and neither does whitman. he scratches at the nape of his neck as thoreau answers, concise and precise as ever. what had his mother’s favourite pastor said? indeed, friendship begins with indecent exposure, so says matthew mark john paul george and ringo 1:1. he flicks yellow styrofoam crumbs from his fingernails, keeping in rhythm with her words. thoreau could recite a phone book and for friendship’s sake whitman would choreograph interpretive salsa without the usage of feet to prove that he was listening. out of the loop. afraid. he doubts it.

“at least we are in this together,” he chimes in, too influenced by squeezy rainbows to rally up a normal adult response. “and at least they are trying to prove something within the realm of bureau-appropriate conduct. is next week the usual wait for orders, these days?”

have you anything to do with london’s disappearance? is accusatory, acerbic. he stamps over his questions both verbalised and clandestine with the red ink of rejection.

“therein lies the advantage of being neither. although, now, do you know what i’ve always liked about you?” no, whitman, because you never talked. one would reckon catching bullets as a weekend hobby might have molded him into someone better at public speaking. every day with whitman is a day of reckoning to prove that wrong. “you have always been hardwired with a well-meaning heart. and considering i came back voluntarily, i do not think i would have a very strong case. if you have any recommendations when it comes to lawyers, i have a very blank pad of paper for you to write on.”

have you changed at all? is the reason why the world of interrogation was not cast upon his shoulders until he tossed himself to the titanomachy of corporate achievement. his neurotic forte lies with lying in such a way that he is a lamp on the side of the street flickering for the sake of guiding people to, with positing factual punctuation to the end of others’ paragraphs. she has changed in ways that the faint static of carpets change the complacent artificial cheesy ozone layers around them. he just can’t know for sure which way she’s going, or if she cares to take him with her.

“well, as you know, i’ve not been in contact with london since my fiery passion for professional clowning began.” although, now, one could argue it never ended. “we need to look at the mental state his missions might have left him in as much as we’ve been poring over his missions, i believe. and if he’s managed to – ” disappear is not the right word. “ – vacation temporally, temporarily, maybe he has eyes and ears on us. maybe those eyes and ears just want to see and hear that we understand, on some level, the desire to escape. and i need to remember what he was like, outside of the things gone on record.” he does not know what the fuck he is doing. “i’m sure you understand agent london better than me, of course. a fly on the wall could do the same. not to say you’re a fly on the wall, obviously. you’re, er…”

mad libs. a relic of the fiendish fifties. go and fill in the blanks for him before he fires more than a blank at himself, please.

Sleep was an enduring enemy. She’d attempted to catch fitfuls of it throughout the day — in the mess hall, her cubicle, a quick trip to her apartment — but her brain gave up, eventually. Instead, she focused her efforts on battling against the lead swimming in her head via petty distractions and shared smokes and whatever drug they’d put in the lukewarm coffee served in those foamy paper cups.

So, she roamed. Loitered, really. Agent Thoreau was a field agent by title but she commanded little of the respect, or perhaps the pity, that the position had entailed today, what with everyone moving around the building in their distinguished, patriotic duties. Not particularly bothered by the burden of being a good example, Thoreau instead paid witness to the flurry of mid-level managers and suited officials and harried low-level assistants in an emboldened though unintrusive way. Rather like God. Rather like a stray cat.

And, anyway, she was marching towards mortality as it is, so squarely on the onset of middle age even if she were too prideful to admit it. A yawn fought to escape against the back of her throat. A quick nap at her desk would not be denied, surely. Given her behavior these past two weeks, It would not even be surprising.

Walking through the building’s many halls, she finally arrived at the agents’ bullpen where their assigned desks lay, the dividers affording them with only a fair bit of privacy. Here, at the eye of the storm, where London’s desk sat and remained in the periphery, the world was relatively quiet. No one else was here, save for the crowd scurrying through the buildings’ several corridors. Rather like rats. She spotted and eyed Agent Whitman with some detached curiosity — evidently, he’d gone back to work, or some version of it — before she slinked towards her own cubicle and slid into her seat. Her cocobolo desk was indubitably expensive but unergonomic, another damning symbol of her misplaced greed: once, a lifetime ago, after a particularly good streak of missions, she’d persuaded that the admin add the new piece of furniture to the appropriations budget. She’d been unable to reverse the action since, and refused to, lest she find herself lost in the sea of bureaucracy. She crossed her arms on the desk and rested her head against them, her upper limbs acting as a makeshift pillow.

Something like rest came to her for about a minute. And then Whitman began talking.

Being painfully alert was the curse of the profession. And, the thing is — she isn’t irritated by the distraction. Unhappy, maybe, but that was rather an expected undercurrent by now. That had nothing to do with London. In fact, she was almost grateful for it. In any case, the commotion that Whitman was up to seemed as good an excuse as any to abandon sleep. She shot up from her desk, wincing as she did, and proceeded to walk towards his cubicle.

Something lands on her feet. She doesn’t make a move to pick it up.

Instead, she veered her focus toward the man in question. In all these years, she and Whitman never really talked, and his retirement should have meant that they were blessedly free from doing just that. Still — how did that old adage go? — she ought to have expected the unexpected. The line was nowhere near as poetic as Abraham Lincoln’s maxims, but it did the job, and anyway, she’d never been a poet.

“Why would you need to be productive during retirement? I would’ve thought that retirement was to keep you away from doing precisely that,” Thoreau leaned against the nearby cubicle — was it Hemingway’s? Faulkner’s? — and stared openly at the curious sight before her.

“I’m just as out of the loop as everyone else, I’m afraid. I doubt we’ll get any orders until next week,” Thoreau began. Her expression was of mild concentration, assuming a professional, measured cadence inasmuch as her weariness could muster. “I can admit that openly, at least. Everyone is out here marching like they’ve got something to prove.”

Her skin felt clammy beneath her clothes. Something very much like guilt passed over her. She had to do something, shouldn’t she? But all she really could do — all she really wanted — was to talk to someone. Ah, the power of psychology.

“Which is more likely? That the Bureau throw a bunch of well-meaning ingenues with bleeding hearts or some hardwired veterans?” The truth is, she’s neither, but therein lies again the matter of pride. “Worse comes to worst, you could sue the Bureau. Breach of retirement contract, or whatnot.”

She walked forward. The distance between this cubicle and hers felt proximate to their current relationship. Maybe someday they could bridge the gap; tonight, or maybe especially tonight, perhaps she could try to inch towards it. “It appears your approach to the situation is rather unique. Maybe you could walk me through this little productivity session of yours?”

Which is to say, What the fuck were you doing?

#threads.#chapter one.#agentthoreau #shes the love of my life btw

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