#Brunch Bureau | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theseeingfawn · 4 months ago

Text

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.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

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

21 notes · View notes

whiskey-bumblebee · 2 years ago

Note

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

68 notes · View notes

theoppositeofadults · 2 years ago

Text

PARTIE 1. les Malheurs de Sophie

mon travail est divisé en 3 catégories de personnes: les directeurs, les managers, les jeunes. dans le groupe des jeunes, on s’entend plutôt bien (avec groupchats, sorties,...) et c’est les gens avec qui je traine la plupart de mon temps quand je suis au travail. néanmoins, nous sommes la moitié à mon étage, l’autre moitié plus haut (et c’est plus simple d’aller trainer avec les collègues du bureau d’en face que de devoir traverser l’étage, prendre un ascenseur, passer devant notre patron,...)

cette histoire commence donc il y a quelques mois, quand une de mes collègues a démissionné alors qu’elle était dans mon équipe et à mon étage, m’abandonnant donc. nous étions 4 jeunes à mon étage et alors que je passais la plupart de mon temps à papoter avec elle, j’ai du apprendre à me diriger vers d’autres personnes

j’ai donc commencé à devenir potes avec les deux gars de mon étage qui sont très drôles. nous sommes en septembre.

un a à peu près mon âge (enfin, il est plus vieux mais il fait partie des plus jeunes) (après même la stagiaire est plus vieille que moi donc bon) et en novembre, on a fini par rester jusqu’à 2h du matin à une soirée du travail juste tous les deux. le lendemain avait d’ailleurs eu droit à un post sur ce glorieux Tumblr:

et après ce brunch, on commence à un peu plus papoter et vous savez quoi - j’aime les gens qui s’intéressent à moi et donc lors d’un long videocall avec ma meilleure amie, j’avais lancé l’idée “do you think I want to date him?” (pas “do you think I should?” mais “do you think i want?”) la réponse avait été très claire : non. il n’avait aucun bon critère à part le fait qu’il était drôle et elle m’a rappelé que j’avais plusieurs fois dit que je ne voulais pas sortir avec un gars qui me faisait rire

bref, je n’étais pas attirée par lui avant cette conversation donc ça n’a rien changé.

le gars a aussi commencé ce truc où il m’appelle “My queen.” genre le matin il m’envoyait un message, “good morning my queen” ce qui était sympathique mais il me donnait aussi souvent son opinion sur des choses où l’opinion des hommes ne m’intéressent pas - genre mes tenues. “you shouldn’t wear black, you look better in color” ??? ok mon style vestimentaire est Littéralement d’être toujours prête pour un enterrement.

bref, novembre continue avec aucune indication de quoi que ce soit.

a+ pour la partie 2.

#les Malheurs de Sophie

19 notes · View notes

referenceshoteliers-blog · 2 months ago

Link

#barrooftopchicManhattan #expériencedeluxePeninsulaNewYork #gastronomie #hébergementdeprestigeNewYork #hôteldeluxeCinquièmeAvenueNewYork #NewYork #nouveaurooftopPeninsulaNewYork #nouveautésrestaurationPeninsulaNewYork #nouvelleexpériencePeninsulaNewYork #PenToprooftopbarNewYork #PeninsulaNewYorkréinventionluxe #PeninsulaNewYorkrevitalisationcomplète #PeninsulaNewYorkservicespersonnalisés #PeninsulaNewYorksuitesetchambres #rénovationhôtelPeninsulaNewYork #séjour5étoilesPeninsulaNewYork #suitesluxueusesPeninsulaNewYork

0 notes

maharghaideovate · 8 months ago

Text

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

0 notes

spicezonevisa5 · 9 months ago

Text

Travel agency in Dubai for visa

Dubai-based travel bureau offering visa services Located in the center of theTravel agency in Dubai for visa busy city, our organization is committed to making the process of obtaining a visa as easy as possible for you to travel to this fascinating place.Whether you're organizing a work trip or a relaxing holiday.

Our experienced staff will walk you through each step, from preparing documents to submitting them, making sure they are accurate and meet all standards.Travel agency in Dubai for visa We work hard to reduce your worry and increase your convenience so you may enjoy the thrill of your next journey.

Travel agency in Dubai for visa As your committed travel partner we go above and beyond to surpass your expectations. Whether you need specialized visa services or speedy processing, With the assurance that Dubai Visa Services is here to assist you at every turn, you can confidently take in the unmatched beauty and hospitality of Dubai. Allow us to transform your ideal vacation into treasured memories. Get in touch with us right now to start your trip to Dubai.

https://www.spicezonevisa.com/travel-agency-in-dubai-for-visa/

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

0 notes

beingjellybeans · 1 year ago

Text

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…

View On WordPress

0 notes

metamoonshots · 1 year ago

Text

[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]

0 notes

sfppn · 1 year ago

Text

#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

0 notes

amused-bouche · 4 months ago

Text

"I know I do not have to." Geo's smile softened at the touch. "I would still like to."

The android had recently discovered while it may be in his coding to help others in any service that they may require, for the one living being he seemed to make a real connection to, he did actually enjoy it.

That was not to say that he wasn't fond of Hellboy or Abraham in their own special ways. He could never tell if Hellboy liked his company or not, but he presumed this was the case for most of the others at the bureau. He was often gruff with others. Abe reminded him much of him self in some ways. Always pleasant to converse with on the occasions he had spoke to him.

He suspected a majority of the others there had a hard time coming to terms with his sentience as Manning had, though theirs' seems to be more out of ignorance than Manning's pure denial out of perceived fear. He could not exactly blame the others. At times he had a hard time coming to terms with it himself. He was glad to have John there to help him as he processed every new emotion.

He had assessed himself as to why it had been so much more difficult at times. Human children grew to learn emotions gradually before they were fully conscious. He just suddenly had them, but already had become aware of his consciousness much more quickly than a child ever could. It was not so easy.

All these thoughts pass within mere milliseconds, his pause was probably only noticeable to himself, though there was a certain far off look in that very short amount of time. The smallest of shifts before he's back to just how he had been before, connected and in the moment.

"Now tell me.... What foods would you like me to try my hand at next? A dessert perhaps? Breakfast? Brunch?"

Before he even realized it had happened, John's grin widened briefly in response to Geo's smile; the android appeared so thoroughly pleased with his assessment of this cooking venture that he couldn't help it. At the question which followed, he replied, "I wouldn't say it if I didn't think it was true. Promise."

Taking another bite, he nodded when the answer to his prior inquiry came. It made sense to hold cooking as a practical skill to acquire, whether Geo would ultimately eat the meals or not. The other agents were sure to appreciate the gesture, and nothing was liable to boost morale quite like food. Of course, John knew that the matter of deactivation was surely another factor in its utility, though he harbored no intention of allowing that to happen.

Geo's continuing explanation, however, took him aback. He couldn't recall the last time someone had cooked or anything of the sort specifically for him. For a second, concern filtered through John's mind that Geo was doing so out of a perceived obligation; that swiftly faded with how it all ended.

"I do say that, don't I?" The corners of his mouth inched upwards once more. "And the ' warming one's heart ' thing goes both ways, y'know." Although he attempted to sober his expression a little, he found that his grin was now incapable of being subdued. "Thank you, for offering to cook for me. You don't have to, but I'll be more than happy to eat it whenever you decide to." Levity rose in John's eyes as he said, "And to continue being your taste-tester for now, of course."

Then, he paused and tilted his head. "You don't owe me anything, by the way. I like getting to know you, and being there while you get to know you. And you said we're friends, right?" He nudged Geo lightly with his shoulder. "That's more than enough. You don't have to do or be anything else."

#myersbprd #myers #geo #x-009 #I love them your honor

7 notes · View notes

lillianabluejeans · 2 years ago

Text

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

18 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 3 years ago

Text

Amoreena | Chapter Six

Chapter Six

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: slight smut** angst, spencer's overthinking and anxiety, passing out, plot twist, very understanding reader, happy ending, smut implied but not graphic

word count: 6.2K

from the beginning <3

Derek and Savannah planned to come over on Sunday morning to introduce Hank and Amoreena, his namesake and his honorary daughter meeting felt very important to him.

Y/N and he spent the morning cleaning up the house, making sure all the books were away and the coffee was on so when they pulled in at 11 for brunch they’d be ready.

Amoreena was beyond excited at the idea of a 16th cousin, not knowing about Henry or Michael yet either, bringing her total to 18 cousins.

Spencer learned something new about them and the farm every single day he was there. Which he expected, it had been 8 days and he was all but moved in. They joked just that morning about them moving too fast, shrugging it off and living their lives anyway.

Derek and Savannah were one of the sweetest couples Spencer knew. They had a love he admired, it also blossomed fast and stayed strong through everything Derek went through.

Derek was always going to be his rock, someone he loved deeply and cherished more than he could ever explain to anyone. More than a brother, a long-lost lover, a confidant, his best friend in the whole world. If he could live through everything he’s been through and still be happy, so could Spencer.

Amoreena is out the door and meeting them before Y/N and Spencer are even aware they pulled in. “Hey little lady, I’m your uncle Derek,” he can hear Derek’s sweet voice that he only uses with kids.

They walked out onto the porch to see Amoreena shaking both their hands before asking if Savannah needed help carrying her purse. Ever the little helper, she intended on making the best introduction to her new family members.

“Spence, this place is amazing!” Savannah gushed as she pulled him into a hug, and then Y/N, “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“You too! You’re all so pretty, holy cow,” she swoons, “what does the FBI put in the water over there?”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s running off over here too,” Spencer compliments Y/N right back.

Derek gives Y/N the biggest hug he’s ever seen, “you are my new bestie, anyone who loves Reid as much as me is a keeper.”

“I like this one, Savannah you have good taste,” Y/N teases, holding Derek in her embrace.

“We got the best guys the bureau had to offer and stole them away,” she laughed, wrapping an arm around Spencer as they turned to see Hank.

“Well, someone had to put them to good use,” Y/N had an arm wrapped around Derek too, slipping into Spencer’s life effortlessly.

Hank was almost 5, it blew Spencer’s mind to think that Derek had been a father for 5 years now. He was the sweetest little guy, holding Amoreena’s hand as the two of them walked up the stairs.

They had sandwiches and muffins in the garden, everything was homemade and grown on the farm. It was a life Spencer was excited to get used to, they even made their own cheese and wine in the summer for the farmers market.

Every time he learned a new detail about this place it got more perfect.

Hank loved the goats, he crawled right in with Amoreena and sat down in the mud. Petting the babies and letting all the mamma goats nibble at his hat as they got close. He giggled and screamed, petting all of them nicely as Amoreena told him all their names.

Derek was very quick to pick out a cowboy hat and pretend he was southern, trying out his fake accent and making Savannah laugh as they explored the farm, skipping through the fields and kissing in the grass. They were just as in love as Spencer and Y/N, they all got along like couples who have been friends since college.

Like this had been their life all along, nothing about it felt new. It just felt right.

Everything about her fit into his life like she was handcrafted for it, picked and polished before set in a box and hidden away from the world. She was a collector's item and he was a collector, keeping her close and never letting her go. He knew her worth, but the feeling she produced in his heart was better than anything in the world.

Before they know it, it’s almost 3 and Hank is about to fall asleep in the grass as Amoreena reads him a story. Derek and Savanah are laying back on a blanket half-listening as they watch the clouds. Spencer and Y/N doing the same.

It’s wonderful, he makes eye contact with Derek while running his fingers through Y/N’s hair. He just smiles at Spencer, prouder he can even express.

“I think it’s about time we head out,” Derek cuts into the peacefulness of their day.

“We’ll be back, and often,” Savannah laughs, “I’m going to hide here from the hospital, you don’t have service right?”

“Not if you turn it off and leave it in the car,” Y/N laughed too, pulling Savannah into a hug and walking with her towards the house. Best friends in the making, it was going to be trouble for him and Derek, exciting, but frightful at the same time.

Savannah excuses herself to the bathroom before they leave, Spencer offers to help Derek carry his tired little toddler to the car so they can talk. He was excited to hear Derek's thoughts about the day, proud of the life he could introduce them to.

“Can I ask you a serious question?” Derek finally cut into their quiet walk to the car with a very serious tone.

“Sure,” Spencer nodded vigorously, a little nervous.

“Do you remember when we lost that bet in 2008?” Derek started, “JJ and Emily were saying it wasn’t fair, that we were hogging all the sexiness and smarts and we should just donate sperm to help the population?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you actually do it?” Derek watches Spencer’s mind wandering as he recalls everything.

He has donated sperm twice in his life, keeping it between him and Derek the first time, telling no one about it the second time. The first was when JJ got pregnant with Henry, teasing him that he should make more geniuses in the world. Emily was even considering having a baby on her own back then before everything with Doyle went down.

The second time was after Maeve died in 2013 when he realized that he might not ever get to actually be a dad.

Donating again purely in the hopes that in 18 years someone would find him in search of a connection with their birth father. It seemed like the only way he’d be able to be a father one day, and that was right around the time Amoreena would have been conceived if she’s 7 now.

Spencer looks at him with wide eyes, “you think she’s mine?”

“Without a doubt,” he whispers, stopping to put Hank in his car seat and give Spencer some time to panic.

“She’s not mine,” Spencer keeps shaking his head, so hard that Derek is worried it might fall off as he panics, “she can’t be, that would be insane. No way, no I’m not even going to pretend she is. Nope.”

Derek places his hand on Spencer’s shoulder to calm him, “do you know who her father is?”

“No,” he whispers as he closes his eyes, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “She tells people that Amoreena is her fiancé Stephens, no one really questions that she had her 2 years after he died, but Y/N doesn’t even know who her father is.”

“That’s a serious conversation you need to have with her, regardless, she deserves to know you’ve possibly got other geniuses walking around out there.”

Spencer felt his anxiety dump adrenaline into his blood, making him sweat and panic as he turned around in circles a few times. He looked physically drained, not know what the fuck to do moving forward.

“I can’t go talk to her right now while Amoreena is there,” Spencer panicked as Derek finally closed the door, Hank was all situated and ready to go.

“I can bring you home?” Derek offered, “go get your things and tell her that you have to go.”

“Okay,” he whispered, trying to calm down enough to face her.

Walking back up to her house felt like it took forever, even passing savannah as he all but ran, stepping inside the house to see Amoreena reading on the couch while Y/N was in the kitchen, whistling happily, waiting for him to come back.

Amoreena looked up at him with a smile, “are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” he lied with a fake smile. “I actually have to go, Derek needs help with something at his place and I’ll be back later for dinner, okay?”

“Awe,” Y/N’s voice travelled from the kitchen to where he was, she walked into the room with an apron on and a towel in her hands. “I was hoping you’d help me make a pie.”

“I’m sorry, hun, I’ll be back soon,” he assured her, “I love you guys.”

“Love you, Dad,” Amoreena smiled, before returning to her book.

Every time she called him dad it made his heart stop, but that one made his breathing stop too, he struggled to swallow as he turned his attention to Y/N approaching him.

Y/N gave him a big hug and then he was gone, running down the driveway and hopping in Derek's car as fast as he could. Still overthinking everything, his mind memorizing every look on Amoreena’s face and trying to see if there was any proof in her being his.

There was a lot. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, he didn’t want to think about that at all. She was his regardless, no DNA test would change how he loved her. He was more afraid of Y/N’s reaction to finding out.

Savannah didn’t ask what was going on, leaving him and Derek to be as weird and cryptic as they always were together. Looking out the window quietly as Spencer had a panic attack in the back seat.

He convinced Derek to drop him off at the clinic where he donated the sperm both times. Still absolutely pissed off with himself that one of the biggest decisions of his life was the one he forgot about, wanting to know if he could find out anything about his potential offspring.

“Sir, I’m so sorry,” the nice receptionist tried her best to stay calm as Spencer rushed through his dilemma.

“Only a child can learn who their father was when they turn 18, if they choose to contact you it’s up to them. You agreed to that when you donated.”

“You can’t even tell me how many kids I have out there?” He tried to reason with her, “I’m in the FBI surely you can make an exception for me it’s not like I'm going to stalk the kids, I just want to know if one’s going to contact me one day,” he tried everything to get her to open up.

“What’s your name?”

“Spencer Reid.”

She stood and walked into the back, opening a cabinet full of records and pulling one out. She opened it, running a finger along with the document as she read it over.

“You have four offspring so far, none of the other samples used have produced a child, the women were all IVF as well so it wasn’t your swimmer's fault; if you wanted to donate again,” she read him all the facts and somehow it just made him panic more.

Y/N’s voice echoing in his mind, “after I did IVF.” She said those words. He heard them. She didn’t know the father. His name wasn't on the sample. It was anonymous. Everything caught up to him at that moment.

“Thank you,” he whispered, white as a ghost as he tried to turn away, dropping to the floor and passing out instead.

When he woke up, he was somehow back in Derek’s car on the way back to his apartment. Hank and Savannah nowhere to be seen, the radio on low as Derek paid attention to the road. It was quiet, he didn’t even know Spencer was awake again until he sighed.

He didn’t say anything to Derek, instead, taking out his phone and texting Y/N.

Spencer: Hey, something serious came up. I won't be able to come back till after bedtime and then I need to tell you something important that might make you very mad at me.

Y/N: you’re going to make me go grey being this ominous

Spencer: I’m sorry, but it’s going to be a lot to explain.

Y/N: should I get wine or something harder ready to listen?

Spencer: Honestly, I’m not even sure yet.

Y/N: cant wait… love you?

Spencer: I love you too, don’t forget that!

Y/N: as long as you don’t either ♥︎

—

He pulled up to Y/N’s house at 9:30, knowing that Amoreena would be well asleep by then. Unbothered by any crying or yelling that could arise from the news he had to share with her mother.

He was terrified to tell her but he needed to. Relationships only work with communication and he knew that, respecting her and loving her enough to do anything in his power to keep her in his life.

He walked inside to see the lights all off, heading around the back of the house to see her in the garden with a drink, surrounded by little lights twinkling as she listened to her favourite Taylor Swift album, he wasn’t shocked in the slightest to find her like that.

“Hey,” he announced himself to her so she wouldn’t be startled.

Her smile warms his heart and clears the butterflies from his stomach for a quick moment, “hey cutie, did you want me to warm up some dinner for you?”

“No thank you,” he shook his head softly, standing by the gate and not wanting to get too close. “I need to tell you something and you might get really mad at me.”

“Alright,” she sat up straighter, hands on her knees as she played with the material of her jeans.

“I donated sperm as a joke in 2008, but then again in January of 2013 when my girlfriend died because I thought it would be the only way to maybe have a kid find me one day when they turned 18. I never thought I’d get to have a family after Maeve died,” the words fell out of his mouth and onto the patio.

“Oh my god,” was all she said, eyes wide and mouth open, she was completely still.

“I went to the clinic and they won't tell me who my kids are, apparently there are four of them so I have no idea if it’s Amoreena or not and I’m just so sorry for not telling you. I honestly forgot, and I don’t normally forget. After everything that’s happened to me, I just forgot, I’m sure it looks like I found you on purpose or something but I assure you that I didn’t,” he wasn’t sure why he was just dumping all these thoughts on her when he hadn’t even thought them through, but they wouldn’t stop.

“There’s only one way to find out,” she shrugged then, smiling at his confused face. “We have more and see if they look like her.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No,” she shook her head, “I’d never joke about making another Amoreena, that would be amazing.”

“You’re not mad?” He blinked at her a few times, wondering if he heard her wrong, twice.

“Why would I be mad at the fact that you might be her real father and the reason she’s the smartest person on earth? She’s literal walking sunshine, am I supposed to be mad you could give her fully biological siblings? I wanted your babies even if she wasn’t yours,” Y/N paused, eyebrows raised as she made her point.

“If I’m supposed to be mad about you completing our family then I’m furious,” she laughed as she stood up, walking over to wrap her arms around him.

“Even if you’re not her father, you’re always going to be her dad,” she whispered as she reached him.

He looked down into her eyes, the most beautiful and caring woman in the world, cuddled into his chest in the middle of paradise. He couldn’t help but laugh, it was insane how easy it was to love her.

“I love you,” he reminded her.

She pulled him down into a kiss, holding her hand on his cheek lightly as he pressed his lips to hers. She rested her forehead on his as they parted, “I love you more.”

“Doubt it,” he teased her with a smile, pulling her in closer and lifting her up into his arms.

“Where are we going?” She giggled.

“Where would you like to go, Princess? This is your kingdom after all.”

The biggest, most suspicious grin appeared on her face then, “put me down,” she instructed and he followed. Setting her down and feeling her grab his hand instead.

She led him inside the house and up the stairs, placing her finger over her lip to let him know to be quiet. She pulled him inside her bedroom for the first time and he was absolutely mesmerized.

It was like a jungle of books in there, pictures of her and Amoreena all over the walls and the cutest mushroom bedsheets in the world. It was like he walked into her mind, it was calming and beautiful and just what he imagined.

Peaceful.

“We’re not staying in here,” she whispered towards him, pulling him into the closet.

She pulls out 2 black garment bags and places them on the bed before looking through her jewellery box. She brings back a small velvet box and places it in his hands.

“Would you want to do something insane with me?”

“Always,” he can’t help but smile.

“My grandma always wanted Stephen to propose to me with that ring, but he used his own mothers instead,” she whispered. “I don’t want to have an official thing, I already planned one wedding and never got to have it.”

“Okay?” He tried his best to follow along, analyzing her facial expressions to see just how nervous she was, as well as the underlying sadness of time missed. Just like she had mentioned that first night he stayed here.

“I had my grandma’s dress tailored to wear at my wedding, I’ve never put the final version on,” she unzips the one bag, revealing a silk white dress with an incredibly long train.

“My grandpa's suit is in the other one, I think you will fit into it,” she reaches out a hand to pull him closer to the bed and look at it with her. “I just want to put them on and tell you I love you in the field and just call you my husband. I don’t give a single shit that it’s been a week, why should I wait a year to call you that when I can start now?”

He doesn’t know what to say, he’s speechless for too long and he knows that it’s making her anxious but he can’t speak. His eyes turn glossy and his hands shake as he holds the small box in his hands, opening it to find a beautiful ruby on a gold band, surrounded by small diamonds, alongside her grandfather's gold band.

He gets down on one knee then and she pulls him right back up to his feet, shaking her head. “It can’t be like last time, I don’t want to repeat a single part of it. I can’t lose you too.”

“You never will,” he’s finally able to speak. “I’m not going anywhere, believe me, you are the most important person in my life. I would drop everything and hide here forever to keep safe, if you wanted me to, I’m too in love with you to go anywhere.”

She smiles at him with wide eyes and the glimmer of hope returning. She picks up her dress and heads to the bathroom door, “put the suit on and meet me downstairs?”

“Yes Ma’am,” he winks at her before taking the suit down the hall to his room.

He notices the wedding photo on the night table again, taking the suit out of the bag to see nothing really changed since the last time it was worn. Her grandfather was tall and skinny like him when they got married, so he fits into the 1950’s suit almost perfectly.

He straightened everything out in the mirror, making sure he tucked the ring box back into his pocket before quietly tiptoeing back down the creaky wooden steps.

Y/N wasn’t done yet, he could hear her walking around in her room softly as she paced from her dresser to the bathroom over and over, most likely trying to find something in her jewellery box and looking in the mirror more than once. She didn’t sound nervous, her feet weren’t hesitant, she sounded like a woman on a mission, that was a good thing.

He was the nervous one, scared out of his mind with the fear he wouldn’t do this right. That she had dreams, plans and expectations he needed to live up to and what if he couldn’t? He put his face in his hands and tried his best to push all the fears away but they kept swirling. Making his brain hurt, he didn’t want to fuck anything up with her. She was already so understanding and wonderful, she’d given so much to him already he can’t fuck this up—

And then she’s walking down the stairs. Like sunshine; parting the grey skies as the thunder clouds dissipate and the rain washes down the streets, he’s fine again.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers.

Her smile was priceless, “thanks, cutie, I’m so glad it fits you!”

He followed her towards the kitchen where she picked up the phone, dialled a number and waited, “hey mom.”

“Spencer and I are going on a late-night walk, outback, yeah, Amoreena is asleep, can you just keep an eye on the house? I’m going to let Rufus in to keep guard anyway,” Y/N explained over the phone, agreeing and humming to whatever her mother said in response. “love you too, thanks."

She let the dog in like she said she would, handing the overly friendly golden retriever a treat before finally pulling Spencer outside and towards the barn.

They were both in running shoes, it was incredibly adorable for the occasion and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Her hand was so soft as she tugged him along behind her, her dress and hair blowing in the wind as they walked.

She grabbed an old kerosene lantern from the barn, lighting it quickly and holding it by the handle, “you ready?”

“I am,” he smiled softly, still anxious in his core, more so now because he was overly excited to be spending the rest of his life with her.

They continued to walk down past the barn, through the cow pasture and finally entering a clearing. It was full of lilacs and ragweed, yellows and purples blowing ever so gently back and forth under the moonlight.

“This is where my grandparents would read to me, and where they renewed their vows when I was 14, and this is where I got the call that I was pregnant with Amoreena. It’s a very special place to me,” her voice was barely a whisper.

Spencer took the lantern from her and placed it in the grass, it illuminated the both of them just enough that they could see each other's faces and know exactly how much they loved each other without even having to say any words.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Spencer’s words were careful, he didn’t want her to think he didn’t either.

She nodded softly, “I loved Stephen very much, I don’t think I’ll ever stop, but I loved him enough to know he’d want me to be happy, he’d really like you and don’t tell him this but I think I love you more than I ever loved him,” she made light of a very heavy subject.

Smiling at him like he was the world, he fully believed her. “I thought Maeve as it for me too before she died, I was so, so wrong. Every day I discover a new level of love for you I didn’t think possible the day before, I never want to stop searching for how deep my love for you goes.”

“To new adventures,” she whispered.

“And happy endings,” he replied, remembering the conversation they had about the Disney characters they loved the most just yesterday morning.

He removed the box from his pocket, opening it and taking her ring out of the fabric. The tiny diamonds around the ruby sparked in the light, shining little rainbows over their faces as they smiled at each other once again, cheeks aching from all the happiness.

“What finger do you want to wear it on? Seeing as we’re doing this our way,” he compromised for her very easily.

“The middle one on my left hand, you?” She asked as she took his ring out as well.

“The ring finger,” he whispered. “I want you to be close to my heart forever.”

“Okay,” she whispered back, pushing the ring onto his finger first before placing her hand in his, waiting for his hands to stop shaking so he could put it on her.

He pushed it right back towards the knuckle, holding her hand in his after and just staring at the ring. He just married the woman of his dreams.

“Holy shit,” he whispered to himself, making her laugh.

“What?”

A tear trickled down his cheek as he tried to smile at her, his jaw wobbling as he tried to stay calm but he couldn’t, he let himself cry softly as she cupped his face with her free hand.

“I love you too, Spencer,” is all she said, pressing her lips to his, finally.

He held her there in his embrace, lips touching as they breathed each other in. The smell of the field and the flowers that were once so strong in his nose, now he only smells her perfume, he almost forgets where he is as they kiss. The world could have stopped and he wouldn’t have ever known, too caught up on loving her.

He doesn’t pull away when the kiss breaks, instead, resting their foreheads together as they breathed.

“I’m going to love you until the day I die.”

She brushes their noses together softly as if to agree, “give me at least 40 years with you, and then I’ll meet you in heaven?”

“We’re already here,” he whispers, “you and Amoreena are my angels.”

They kissed again, just as soft and perfect as before. She smiled at the end, pulling back and taking her cellphone out of the dress pocket that he didn’t even know was there.

She set it on the fence post that separated the cows from the field, making sure it was steady and setting a timer. She rushed to Spencer and pulled him back into the same kiss, letting the phone take a burst of photos for them to remember later on.

“Pick a song,” he whispered into the moment, seeing her face scrunch as she became confused. “We need a first dance, I know your grandparents had to have danced out here at least once if she loved music as much as you say she did.”

“I love you,” is all she can say as she beams a smile at him. Skipping over to her phone and doing just as he asked.

“I need a piece of Amoreena in this moment,” she explained her song choice, making him think it would be the Elton John song, but it wasn’t.

A beautiful piano balled played before he heard the all too familiar voice of Taylor Swift, the girl's favourite. “Seven, because that’s how many years it took for us to find you.”

He takes her hand again, twirling her around before pulling her body into his. The both of them holding on tight as they swayed to the song, it fit every single aspect of his love for her to a T. Like it was Taylor made for them.

“Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Your braids make a pattern Love you to the Moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long,”

It was so unbelievable. She had mentioned the love she felt for Stephen, he mentioned his love for Maeve, both of their faces hard to bring to memory as they fell in love with each other. A new feeling, a happier love, a long-lasting one that wasn’t nearly as flimsy. Powerful and strong like the earth's gravitational pull, he was never leaving her.

She’s singing the words ever so softly beside his ear, her voice is softer than Taylor’s and his favourite thing he’s heard all night, but he’d never tell her that.

They kiss randomly throughout their dance, listening to more songs as they swayed in the evening breeze. The cows coming to the fence to see what was happening, they twirled and dipped and jumped with each other, it was perfect.

She pulls him in for another kiss and she is all giggles, high from the dopamine and serotonin rush they were both on. Like someone injected sugar right into his veins, he was unbelievably sweet on her.

“We’re you serious?” Spencer whispered against her lips before she can pull back any further and disrupt the courage he felt.

“About what? I’ve said a lot tonight,” she teased him gently.

“About having more kids?” His voice is low and his eyes can’t meet hers as he prays she was being honest.

She nods softly, “never been more certain, actually, I would have 10 more of your kids if they’re all as perfect as our Amoreena.”

Our.

He tilts his head to the side and presses his lips together in a tight smile, he lost all control of his tears a while back, feeling them slip down his cheeks as he took everything in. She had given him everything and then some.

“How are you this perfect? It’s been 8 days since I laid eyes on you and you’ve managed to make every single dream come true, while simultaneously creating new dreams I never imagined I’d be allowed to have. You’re the best thing that has ever happened in the world Y/N, I’m so incredibly in love with you I could scream right now,” he is more passionate than he plans to be, she stares at him with more lust than happiness this time.

“Prove it and make love to me, you said you’d rather fuck me at home. Well,” she kept teasing him opening her arms and twirling around as she showed off the farm. “This is your home now, husband.”

“Where should we go?” He felt adventurous, willing to take her against the fence if the cows wouldn’t eat her hair, the thought alone making him giggle to himself.

“What?” She can't help but giggle right back.

“I thought about fucking you against the fence for a hot second and then the intrusive thoughts kicked in and I thought about the cows eating your hair,” he admitted with a fierce laugh.

“I love you so much,” she shook her head and sighed, the same way she did at the museum when Amoreena made her laugh.

That was all the proof he needed. Never would he question how she felt, if she loved him half as much as she loved Amoreena then he was blessed by far. This was over the top.

He picked up the lantern then, handing it to her as well as her phone before picking her up bridal style and attempting to carry her back to the house. He made it to the barn before she begged him to put her down, wanting to skip the rest of the way with him.

Giddy as all hell, the two of them snuck back into her house. Rufus, the best guard dog in the world, was passed out on the couch and didn’t even move as they walked in. Locking the doors and windows for the night before tiptoeing up the stairs again.

Luckily, Amoreena’s room was on the opposite side of the house from Spencers. Y/N pulled him down the hall and inside the room, lightly closing the door before leaning back against it and sighing.

“Are you sure? I never asked you what you wanted,” Y/N whispered.

Spencer just shook his head and slipped out of his suit jacket. “All I want is to have a big happy family with you, where ever that takes us, I’m up for the adventure.”

Y/N was the one who teared up this time, looking away from Spencer and at her grandparent's wedding photo on the side table. She walked past Spencer, brushing her hand against his arm as she did so, picking up the photo and kissing it softly.

She turned it face down and turned back to Spencer, “help me with the zipper?”

He nodded, silently stepping forward and brushing her hair off her back, freeing her from the dress. He pressed his lips gently to her sun-kissed shoulders, surprised by the array of freckles, kissing the pattern they made on her skin as she let the dress slip to the floor.

He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her from behind as he continued to kiss her neck and shoulder. She hummed into the feeling, tilting her head to the side so he had more room to explore, her hands cover Spencers as she felt up his arms, still in his embrace.

She had the softest skin on earth, he could spend the next 14 hours kissing every square inch of her. It was all perfect and he wanted her to know it, “get on the bed,” he whispered in her ear as he pulled away.

He picked her dress up off the floor and put it on a hanger from the shirt he had on. She watched with soft eyes as he hung it on the back of the bathroom door, keeping it safe and taken care of while they became a married couple.

He slipped out of the tie and started unbuttoning his shirt, she laid back against the covers, pulling her grandma's quilt off and folding it at the end of the bed. She laid back and waited as he slipped his pants to the ground and finally joined her once again.

She met him halfway for a kiss, holding his face as he knelt between her spread legs, she leaned back and took him with her. He hovered then, barely touching her as she leaned forward to keep kissing him, eventually wrapping her arms around his back and pulling him down.

Skin to skin for the first time ever.

It’s slow and explorative, they take their time as they enjoy every single inch of each other's bodies. She’s soft and perfect, she fits in the palm of his hand like he’s always been holding her. Moulded for her and her alone.

He’s never made love before. Sure, he’s had sex but never in his life has it felt like this… no, this was perfect. It was everything he’s ever dreamed of and then some. Her kisses felt like dreams coming true, her touch so light it was like sunshine on a hot day, just dancing over him.

It was perfect.

He brushed her hair behind her ear, still inside her, as he took a moment to just look at her. Her eyes were hypnotic, he was so dawn into her it was like she controlled him. He kissed her gently on the forehead, “I love you,” he reminded her, for the millionth time that hour.

She pulled him in closer, breathing against his neck gently as they continued. Her nails on his back were amazing, he felt the sharp pain of her grip which only excited him more, fastening his pace, both his hips and where his thumb was pleasuring her between their bodies.

She looked like she was floating, relaxed as she laid against the sheets, blissed-out while she took it all in, panting airy nonsense as she got closer and closer.

She was quiet, they both were. It was silent as possible while they made love for the first time ever. She was everything in the world to him and then some, he couldn’t believe she was real as they both finished and managed to somehow get closer to each other.

Another level of love was just unlocked in his heart, he was never going to stop loving her. That would be the only impossible known to man.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

173 notes · View notes

whitmanners · 1 year ago

Text

@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

2 notes · View notes