#its a low bar to clear but the important part is she cleared it

[oc-cinematic-universe]

dara: *does something stupid*

joe: dara i have never felt so much love for another person in my entire fucking life

dara:

dara: how many other people have you fell in love with joe.

joe (full of demiromantic swag): thats not important

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Sway Me Now

Billy Butcher Masterlist

Summary: For one mission, they have to work together. But after last time, can Butcher really trust her? As tension grows, they inevitably end up on the dance floor and have to dance to keep their cover. And right there, all the anger turns into something else. Can they really finish up the mission now? Pairing: Billy Butcher x F!Reader Rating: 18+ Warning: implied smut but nothing explicit, The Boys level of violence, ennemy to lovers, tension, sexual tension, anger, dancing, fighting Word Count: 3946 ​​ A/n: This fic was requested by @mightyhemsworthy​! So sorry it took so long!

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It wasn't his idea. Truth was, he was completely and irrevocably against it. But Hughie had the annoying capacity to convince everyone, including him. As soon as he used his secret weapon, his puppy eyes, everyone flinched.

"It's a shitty idea," he repeated for the hundredth time. Running his hand slowly through his beard, Butcher looked in the mirror to observe himself from all angles. He hadn't worn anything this fancy in so long.

The costume was very beautiful, there was no doubt about it. The black fabric was soft to the touch, a little reflective, showing its expensive price. The white button up shirt was a little tight so Butcher didn't hesitate to untie his bow tie to loosen a button.

"Who would have thought you could rock a suit."

Butcher closed his eyes and let out a long, telling sigh. That voice, he could never forget it.

"Who the fuck let you in, luv?"

His eyes still closed, Butcher turned to face the woman who haunted his nights… Both in a good and in a bad way.

"The little guy with the blue eyes. He's the one that called me and begged me to come here for your shitty plan."

Butcher's lips twitched in an uncomfortable spasm. Why did it have to be her, out of all the possible choices?

"Not. My. Plan," Butcher finally opened his eyes to place them on the woman in front of him. And for once, he was glad he could keep an unfazed face in any situation, because the view in front of him...

Y/n was leaning against the door frame. Her silhouette illuminated by the light behind her made her look like an angel… but he knew the demon hidden behind her beauty. She wore a red dress so tight, the fabric looked and probably felt like a second skin. The length came below her knees, but there was a slit on the side that went up to her hip, exposing her leg. Butcher couldn't help but stare at that bare part, exposed flesh that made him salivate. After long seconds of impossible scenarios passing through his mind, he managed to raise his eyes. The top of the dress was low cut just enough to show off her assets but also hid some to leave room for the imagination.

To finish up her look, her hair was curled and tied in a bun, small strands falling on either side of her face.

So lost in the contemplation of the woman in front of him, Butcher didn't immediately notice that she was doing the same to him. Her eyes roamed up and down her body, burning and interested in the sight.

He wasn't used to being looked at like that. Not in a long time, at least. Feeling himself losing control over her expressions, Butcher cleared her throat to bring the focus back to what was important and what she was there for. The mission.

Y/n was biting her lip in interest when he spoke.

"Did Hughie tell you his plan?"

-

“Alright. So the target’s name is Edmundo Rodriguez. I texted you a picture.”

Sitting at the bar, Butcher was sipping a nice glass of strong whiskey when M.M's voice rang loudly in his ear. By reflex, he tried to remove the piece from his ear, but a hand was faster and stopped him.

“We got the picture,” the person next to him muttered discreetly against her wrist, her silver bracelet hiding the microphone allowing her to communicate with the base of operations. The truck was parked further on the road outside the manor, M.M and Hughie ready to guide them if necessary. Y/n slid the phone on the counter by his drink so Butcher glanced at it quickly.

“That motherfucker looks like all the other motherfucking in here, how the hell are ye gunna find him, eh?” 

“I don’t care how you do!” M.M's voice once again sounded loudly in his ear. Butcher grimaced. He definitely hated this plan. Hated the mission. “Just do it. Target should be in the VIP section.”

“Sure thing, we just need to get in there now, do we?”

Turning his head to the left and then the right, Butcher mentally noted everything around him again. The room was full of people, cocktails in hand, dancing, talking and laughing out loud. A real bunch of money cows, good at milking the poor to fill their pockets. And they called that event a charity gala? It stank of scam.

The phone disappeared from the counter as Y/n grabbed it. Butcher followed the gesture and watched her put it back in her bag. Again, his breath got caught in his throat at the beauty of the woman next to him, and his frustration grew.

“Are you gonna stop being a baby for one night?” She sighed, turning to him completely. After crossing one leg above the other, she leaned against her hand, her elbow against the counter. She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly judging him with her gaze.

“Only when you’ll stop being a greedy bitch,” Butcher replied, mimicking her posture to face her as well. He grabbed his glass and put it to his lips, but decided not to drink from it at the last second. “Why are you even here eh? We don't need ya, like we didn't need ya last time either.”

"Oh, if that's how you say thank you, then fuck you!" Straightening slightly, Y/n swiveled towards the bar to order a drink, but Butcher interrupted her.

“I won’t say thank you, hun, not after what you did last time.”

“You’re still mad about that!” 

This time, the two were face to face, standing on their feet, their faces so close they could feel each other’s body heat.

“I’ll always be mad that you betrayed us and joined the fucking enemy.”

The only reason she could answer him at the same height was the 4 inch heels that adorned her feet. “You know why I did that!” Noticing she was raising her voice, Y/n looked around. Her gaze wandered behind Butcher for a moment, then she grabbed his arm to pull him even closer to her. “Now's not the fucking time. I'm there, like it or not,” she whispered, her face so close he could admire every detail of her beautiful eyes. “The guards are looking at us, we're making a scene and getting too much attention so you’re gonna shut up and follow my lead.”

Butcher had no time to protest or answer, he was being dragged on the dance floor. Once they were in the middle, Y/n looked to the left where the guards were and Butcher followed her gaze discreetly. Indeed, three men were staring intently at them. Cursing himself for accepting the mission, and more importantly, agreeing to go with her, Butcher didn’t notice the song had changed. He understood only when he felt his hands switch places to end up against a fabric that was soft to the touch. Turning his head in front of him, his eyes widened as he noticed he was now holding her waist.

“Follow my lead,” Y/n hissed through her teeth. Already, her hips were moving side to side and she was raising her arms to wrap them around Butcher's neck. Caressing the back of his head, she moved closer to him enough to press her chest against his torso. Still in shock of having her so close, Butcher didn't move. A strong pain in the foot brought him back to him with a choked moan of pain. "Sway me now!"

She was crushing his foot with her heel? Perfect! He was awake now.

Suavemente, bésame

Que quiero sentir tus labios

Besándome otra vez

Prior to The Boys, Butcher had been to many events that required dancing. To not embarrass and shame Becca, he had learned and practiced relentlessly. It had been a while now since his last dance, his body responding to the movements by remaining rather stiff, but it was enough. And the confused but satisfied expression of the woman in his arms confirmed he wasn’t too bad at it.

Cuando tú me besas

Me siento en el aire

Por eso cuando te veo

Comienzo a besarte

One foot in front of him, Y/n moved hers back and they repeated the movement a couple of times to the beat of the song, swaying their hips. Then, Butcher grabbed Y/n's hand, kissed it quickly before spinning her on herself several times. After a few turns, he grabbed her against him and helped her down to the ground by holding her hands. Y/n slid, one leg in front and the other behind as she did the splits. Applause sounded around them, but neither paid attention to their spectators. Once on the ground, Y/n stuck her legs together and Butcher spun her around to build momentum and lift her up. With a strong, precise movement, she seemed to fly through the air for a moment, her legs splitting again but in the air this time.

Y si te despegas

Yo me despierto

De ese rico sueño

Que me dan tus besos

Suavemente

Grabbing her by the waist, Butcher gently helped her land on her feet. Then, they pulled back, Y/n moving her hips and caressing her body as she kept her gaze on her partner. Pointing at him, she motioned for him to come closer, which Butcher did, a smile on the corner of his lips. Swaying, he advanced towards the young woman so that she ended up in his arms again. His hands rested on her waist again, but the heat had already risen too much, and his fingers wandered lower on her body, inviting her to sway her hips even more.

It was hot. Their bodies touched more often than they stayed apart. The two were sweating as the song struggled to finish. The 4 minutes of the song felt like an eternity, but soon, that eternity was over. The song ended as Butcher rocked Y/n backward against his arm. Her hair, surprisingly still in her bun even after the dance, tickled his arm. Her back was arched perfectly and he was holding one of her legs with his other hand.

The sound of their rapid breathing filled the room full of people watching them, but it felt like there were only two left in the world. Nothing existed anymore, nothing could reach them in the bubble they were in. The tension was palpable, the dancing had warmed them both up in a way they hadn't expected. Of course, Butcher knew how incredibly beautiful Y/n was. And sexy. Fuck, she was so hot. But that moment they had lived... It felt more than that.

Butcher stared at Y/n's lips with one longing...

His face moved closer and closer to hers, and she didn't do anything to stop him. He could feel her breath on his lips, feel the fruity scent of her lip gloss tickle his nose, they were so close… when a round of applause startled him.

Butcher was getting his dance partner back on her feet when a voice rang in his ear.

“Nice way to get attention, well done.” He had no idea how they saw the dance back in the truck, but they knew and it made Butcher lose focus once more.

Y/n was faster than him and leaned over to salute and thank the crowd. Butcher did the same, and then the band resumed the songs and people started talking as if nothing had happened.

Time seemed to slow down as the dance looped through his head. People talked to him, but he didn’t listen to any of them. He could almost taste them, her lips, feel their warmth on his… And he wanted to. So bad. God, he was screwed. He only hoped she didn’t notice how strong her hold was on him and how bad he wanted her. That would be fucking embarrassing.

"Y/n-" Butcher turned his head towards her, but she wasn't near him anymore. He blinked a few times and looked around, panic slowly rising in him. She was there and then, gone. Raising his watch to his mouth, Butcher let his fear pour out.

“M.M! I lost Y/n!”

“Relax,” the voice answered. “You spaced out for a while Butcher. She’s doing her job. Look towards the bar.”

A long sigh of relief escaped Butcher's lungs when he found the red dress among the people sitting at the bar. He was walking towards her when he finally noticed that she was not alone. Sitting next to her, a man was talking to her. Although he was far away and the man had his back turned to him, Butcher could still notice the smirk stamped on his face as he looked at her, his big stubby hand going up on Y/n's thigh. His dirty fingers slid through the slit of the dress to caress her leg… And that was his limit.

Butcher saw red. Not waiting a moment, he rushed to the bar, pushing the other guests around without worrying about attracting attention. He was almost there when a waiter stepped directly into his path.

“Un entrée vous ferait-il plaisir, monsieur?”

Butcher recognized his voice before realizing that the server was speaking French. “Frenchie, get out my way now.”

“Saw your little dance there, impressionnant,” Frenchie, disguised as a waiter, nodded. Of course, they had to send him inside in case something turned bad. That was how M.M knew about the dance, Frenchie had a great time describing what he was seeing. “But now’s not the time to screw your cover. Take a little pain crouté and let her work.”

“I don’t care about your food!” Drowning in his anger, Butcher's hand went off on its own and the plate filled with probably very expensive appetizers flew through the air to end on the floor in a deafening din. Of course, this caught everyone's attention, including the guards, the man at the bar, and Y/n. “Leave me alone Frenchie,” Butcher hissed through his teeth. Frenchie lowered his head, muttered something in French and left. Butcher was about to continue on his way to the bar when a hand landed on his chest to stop him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Y/n whispered and glanced behind her where she had left the man. She quickly waved at him to let him know it would take her a moment and then turned to Butcher. “Why are you making a fucking scene!”

“Why are you flirting with the first guy you see, eh?!” Butcher clenched his fists, casting a hateful gaze toward the bar and the man.

"Are you fuckin-" Not finishing her sentence, Y/n grabbed Butcher by the wrist and led him out of the room. Once they were in an empty hallway, she stopped and turned to him. Certain she would only try to find more excuses for her actions, Butcher was surprised to see that look on her face.

Her beautiful eyes were sad, filled with overflowing tears. Her eyebrows were furrowed, clearly disappointed in his behavior. She let go of his wrist and Butcher felt the chill creep up his spine as she pulled the phone out of her bag to show him the photo.

“Why are you showing me the target again!” He exclaimed, raising his voice louder than he liked.

“Because I was with him at the bar! Are you blind?!”

“I knew it, you’re gunna go with the enemy again!” Clapping his hands over his head, Butcher was about to leave the mansion, fuck the mission, when a hand forced him to stay put.

“How can you think I would- I was seducing him to get the fucking key! Yanno, for the safe that contains the fucking documents we need to destroy Vought!”

Butcher lowered his hands. It was like his body weighed a ton and gravity was pulling him down. He hadn't thought of that. However, that didn't calm the anger he had been feeling ever since he saw her again.

“How do you want me not to think that after last time!” No matter how hard he tried to calm down, the anger and that negative feeling ate up inside him like an ever-growing black cloud.

Pain passed over Y/n's face. Her eyes filled with water again. No tears rolled down her cheeks though. 

“I had no choice…”

Her voice had become so quiet, he had difficulty understanding her. "What?"

“Last time. Monaco. I had no choice. They had my dad, and if I didn’t give them the documents…” Lowering her head, a lock of her bun finally fell over her eyes. “I didn’t want to… But I had to save my dad.” When she lifted her head, a single tear spilled out of her eye and started rolling down her cheek, but she wiped it away before it could sink too low.

“Why did you never tell me?” Butcher's voice was softer now. Although the betrayal was still fresh, he could understand. He would have done the same for Becca. He would betray his own team for the one he loved, no hesitation.

“Cause I failed that too,” she shrugged and smiled sadly. Her mouth opened to add something but her gaze shifted to the side and her eyes widened. "Oh shit."

“So that’s where you were, Cariño…” Butcher closed his eyes, a silent “fuck” mimed on his lips. Turning slowly, he got face to face with the man from the bar, the target, Edmundo Rodriguez. And he wasn’t alone. Three guards accompanied him, all armed with weapons. Edmundo shook his head and sighed. “What a shame it has to end before I can own you.” Butcher could feel a shiver of disgust and hatred wash over him at those words. “Oh, you wanted this, perhaps?” Raising a hand, Edmundo passed it through his sweater to pull out a chain and at the end of the chain, a key. The one they needed. “You thought me stupid. Tried to rob me. But who’s dumb now eh? Corpses don’t do well in stealing. Kill them.”

“Oh fuckin finally some action I’m good at.” Butcher smiled darkly. As the guards closed in on them, Butcher pulled off his far too expensive jacket and grabbed the gun hidden behind his back to point it at the nearest guard. However, he was already in front of him and with a quick swing, disarmed Butcher. His weapon fell to the ground and slid away much to the dismay of the man who took a punch in the face. His whole body twisted from the force of the hit and his mouth filled with blood. "Oh. You shouldn’t have done that.” Turning his head towards the guard, Butcher offered a bloody smile that made him take a few steps back. The guard had fear shining in his eyes… Even if he was the one with the gun. "Oh, don't be scared," Butcher was still smiling. 

It happened so quickly, the guard didn't stand a chance. Butcher grabbed him by the sweater with one hand, the other grabbed the wrist that held the gun, and in a strong and precise movement, headbutted him right in the nose. 

A crack was heard, followed by a scream.

Clearly stunned by the hit, the guard staggered and he put a hand to his face. Butcher took the opportunity to hit his knee with his feet, a strong and precise kick that bent his leg at an angle that shouldn't be possible. More cracks and yells of pain were heard. The guard fell to the floor screaming, his gun falling from his hand, and Butcher didn't hesitate to press his foot against his throat and pressed. Purple slowly crept into the guard’s face as he squirmed under the boot, trying to get free and get oxygen. But Butcher didn’t let go.

A gunshot sounded so close to his ear that Butcher had the instinct to duck, but the bullet missed its target. Looking behind him, he could see that the fight wasn’t over. One of the guards was pointing his gun at him, and if he missed the first shot, he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Butcher was ready to drop to the ground, praying the bullets would miss him, but it wasn't necessary. Because one moment the guard was standing with a gun pointed at Butcher, and the next he was falling on the floor with a knife stuck in his throat. A few feet away from him stood Y/n, the covered side of her leg raised to show a belt filled with small knives strapped to her thigh.

"That's hot," Butcher couldn't help but say as Y/n picked up another knife and threw it at the last guard. Since the guard was busy dealing with knives being thrown at him, Butcher could pick up the gun the guard dropped, but it was unnecessary. Because one second later, Y/n skilfully jumped on the guard to stab him in the throat until he fell to the ground, motionless and choking in his own blood.

“Where’s Edmundo?” She asked, straightening her dress as if nothing had happened. She was barely disheveled, no cuts or wounds and above all, no drop of blood was on her person.

“I don’t care.”

Leaving the gun on the floor since he didn’t need it anymore, Butcher took the few steps that separated him from Y/n to immediately place his hands on her waist and pressed his lips to hers. It took her breath away, both with the force and the surprise of the intense kiss. She didn’t wait a second to respond, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. A low moan echoed in his ears as he slammed her against the wall, their lips parting just long enough for her to jump up and wrap her legs around his hips. "You're so fuckin hot," Butcher sighed and without waiting, brought his lips to hers again. One of his hands was used to support her while the other did not hesitate to slide under the slit of the dress to caress and grip her thigh.

The kiss was wild and filled with a longing and frustration that the two constantly felt. So needless to say, it only took a few moments for Butcher to undo his pants just enough to have access to what he needed.

-

Meanwhile, a French waiter who didn’t really have his place in this kind of event had intercepted a panicked person who was running towards the guardhouse. With a quick kick and a precise punch, he knocked him down, dragged him to a quiet place, bound and gagged him and finally, stole his key. Proud of himself for getting the key, he started searching for the two people under cover to tell them the good news. The mission was over, they had to leave before someone realized what happened.

After a while of searching, Frenchie finally found them…

Right in the middle of the hallway, caught up in an activity he wished he had never seen.

“Ah! Non, non non non! Not today! I’ll wait in the car!” Frenchie started to walk away, both hands raised in despair. But as the moans reached his ears, he cringed and shouted without turning back: “No, better than that, when you are done, just call a taxi! Au revoir!”

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations @fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

[postapocalypsemalone]

⋙ WHEN? between 11:30AM and 2:00PM ⋙ WHERE? the streets of new york city ⋙ WHO? one-shot

When things go wrong, they go properly wrong. 

They had been focused throughout the morning. Fear nor trepidation moved them, only determination and steadfastness accompanied their words as they told their team what to do, where they'd go, and what to look for. And despite the danger of what they were to set out to do — not even specifically their mission, but stepping out onto the streets always brought with it a high risk simply due to circumstances — the team was in as high spirits as the situation would let it be. They knew their mission, Mal was confident they were up to task; their route had been cleared as being horde-free prior to this moment, and what stragglers they’d cross, they would be able to handle as a team.

And so they’d come upon their destination well enough. They’d been quick, taking no unnecessary risks, working like a well-oiled machine, keeping an eye on each other as two people of the team scoured the destination for all the items needed, fuel, machine parts, and anything else important that they came across as a bonus. Another person stayed with the trolleys while the remainder of the team kept their eyes out of any chompers and dispose of them where necessary, so the rest of the team could keep themselves focused on grabbing as many supplies as they could find. Mal, having been one of the lookouts, had been called in when the trolleys had been all but filled and they were ready to head out.

For all the danger that the streets of — what’s left of — Manhattan had to offer, they’d only seen a handful of chompers in the hours it took them to get to their destination, gather everything they could and then some, and start on the track back to the Wexley. And throughout, that handful just didn’t sit right with Mal. Sure, they had scouted ahead of time, and sure, they could just be lucky. But it was too few, and it went too easy. It wasn’t until they rounded a corner into a street that had been clear just hours previous that Mal quickly stepped back, right back into the team. Without words, Mal had gestured for quiet, ordering a reroute. But their loot was heavy and the streets of New York City weren’t meant for navigating carts that heavy and so quietly. When one of the trolleys’ wheels got stuck in a pothole, Mal headed to back to aid pulling it out.

And then their status was requested over the walkie talkie she carried on her person.

Time stopped as Mal looked up slowly at the rest of her team, and on their faces she could read the same sinking dread that dropped low in her stomach. “Run.” It was the only thing she thought to say as the entire horde turned, as though puppeteered by a single mind, and within a blink, were out like wolves for blood. “Now!” Mal made one, two, three more attempts to dislodge the trolley before giving up, taking her own advice and running after the rest of her team. The other trolley tipped over, spilling all its contents, and without even thinking, Mal grabbed the arm going to try to upright it and dragged them along with them. The others had already rounded a corner and were out of sight, and their eyes scanned along the street. Within a split second, the roaring and growling behind them, Mal guided the two of them towards a fenced construction site and, getting to the edge of it, immediately crouched down to help their teammate over the top of it. With a jump, Mal’s hands wrapped around the top of the bar, ignoring the pricks of wire cutting the inside of their palms. “Don’t stand there, run!” Mal roared at their waiting teammate, heaving themself up with gritted teeth.

She was crouched on the top of it when a group of chompers slammed into the fence, and it was all she could do to not fall face first to the group, instead managing to slow her inevitable fall by holding onto the bar, feet dropping against the other side of the fence and falling backwards into the construction site.

Darkness. Silence. Mal doesn’t know how much time has passed, and for a long moment, she wonders if she’s dead. If this is what death is — dark, quiet, rest. Sound is the first thing to return to her, softly at first, as though the volume of the world is raised tick by tick. Clanging, roaring, moaning. As her eyes parse daylight through her cortices once more, the sting of it makes her flinch, raising her hand to shield her eyes against the bright but cold spring sun; it is then that the reality of her situation comes rushing into her understanding. The clanging is the fence — flimsy-looking now — holding back the assault of chompers, the ones in the back practically pressing the ones at the front through the linked wire like sausage through a meat grinder.

Initially it’s shock that freezes them in place, staring at the decaying humanoid figures all but breaking down the fence between them. The shock wears off, however, and with an iron grip, Mal gathers everything in herself to get up and recover who she can of her team. But moving proves far harder than anticipated; even the slightest of movements has her inadvertently cry out in pain before gritting her teeth, and it takes her a few long seconds to locate the issue.

When losing her balance, she hadn’t simply fallen back onto the ground and had the wind knocked out of her. Bloodied and scratched up hands wrap around the rebar sticking out of her stomach area, and she feels her heart rate increase, breathing becoming more and more laboured as adrenaline explodes throughout her veins. “Fuck!” they cry out, the adrenaline working instantly, every inch of their body already trembling from it, their mind racing. “Fuck, fuck!”

Adrenaline is a funny thing, though; for anyone not used to the effects on body and mind, it can very easily lead to worsening a situation. But Mal and adrenaline are old friends, and as it pumps throughout their veins, there’s a stillness that overcomes them, their breathing slowing to a deliberate in-out-in-out. This is an impossible situation, and it’d be all too easy to stay where they are until the fence inevitably gives way to the chompers’ unending and ravenous force and be torn apart, if they were still alive by that point. It’d be so easy to let go, to give up, to just be done with it. She’s earned her rest by now, hasn’t she? Her life has lasted long enough, she’s been done with it long before this moment — staying a little too long under the surface of the water in her bathtub, until lungs burn and beg for the release of carbon dioxide.

There’s no Charlie to take them out of that mindset now. There’s no Ash to show them all the things they have yet to learn and teach in equal measures. There’s no Rosie and her diner, there’s no Lolly with her smile and perfume, there’s no resident that they need to surface for and pretend they hadn’t been on the edge. There’s no Mr. W squeezing their shoulder in a display of reassurance and affection.

But that’s right, they’re not here. They’re not here, but they are still out there. They’re out there and they don’t deserve to lose a whole group of people without ever knowing what happened. Whatever thoughts of accepting the situation, of greeting the violent end passively and melting into the silent nothing thereafter that had swam through their mind, it’s cut away by duty. Whatever her life means to her, or how little rather, there are people who deserve more than that.

So Mal puts her feet under her, one hand on the floor and the other wrapped around the top of the bloodied rebar. Steeling their mind in anticipation, they push and pull as hard as they can, crying out in a pain that nearly blinds them, white, hot, setting every nerve in their body aflame, leaving just enough faculties to keep pushing. If you’d told her she spent there, lifting herself off that rebar, for as long as the universe is old, she would’ve believed it. But then it’s over and her knees hit the floor hard, hands keeping her from falling forward. Muscle-bound arms tremble, shake, and give as she collapses on the cement, breathing hard.

Mal, get up. Their mind thrashes inside an unresponsive body. Mal, get up. They watch the fence bulge inward, more and more, with each push and surge of the chompers, viscera on the floor near their face where the ones at the front had been partially minced by all the ones behind them.

Mal, get up!

Their arms are the first to finally respond to the screaming of their mind. It takes an eternity for Mal to get used to the heaviness of their limbs, but once they do, their hand pushes against the wound the rebar has left. Looking back between it and the chompers, Mal swallows hard. “Fuck.” With all her force of will, she walks away from the carnage, catching herself on railings and half-constructed walls when a leg threatens to give way. How she manages to climb up a ladder in an alley beyond the construction site, Mal pulls off the flannel she’s wearing to tie it around her waist as tightly as she can, just to put pressure on the injury, just to make sure she won’t bleed out on the way back to the Wexley.

By the time she makes it to the familiar alley, she carries with her the pallor of Death itself.

[sideshow-tornado]

Thinking about this year, the year of our Lord Two-Thousand and Twenty-three, as it begins its final countdown; As one is want to do in such times. I look down and see I’m still standing on two feet. Still breathing. Still here. Even on the best of years I consider that a win, but with a year as “rocky” as this one it’s akin to a miracle.

Lost some important people this year. My last two grandparents gone one after another in few short months time; if not for one more great aunt still alive and kicking I’d be down to no more familial reach beyond my parents generation. That’s quite striking considering I was lucky enough to know and have memories as a kid of great-grandparents who were born at the turn of the 20th century.

Lost a pair of great friends, Danne & Sam, both of them after lengthy battles with cancer. They were both older than even my parents, but I got to know them as men and fellow artists. I treasure the time I spent with them and the memories and theatre we created together.

Chronologically the last death was the most tragic, my niece Zoe.. Only 26 years old. She had been diagnosed with a Glioblastoma almost two years ago, a rare form of brain cancer. She was brave and remained herself throughout the entire time, and now she leaves behind a 3 year old daughter.

Zoe was technically not my niece, and not even a blood relative, but when her mother died tragically in a flooding accident when Zoe was just 4 years old my cousin took her in and she became part of our family. It’s still hard to believe she is gone. I walk by a painting of hers everyday in my kitchen. Life can be so cruel and unfair to people who don’t deserve it, but I hope she left this world knowing how much we loved her. If such a thing can provide any solace to someone in her position.

2024, the bar is pretty low. But maybe we can set our sights higher than just clearing the bar.

Happy New Years my friends. Auld Lang Syne.

[grumpy-zane]

((timeline: [one] [two] 

Jay paced back and fourth, his mind buzzing with a thousand excuses, rationalizing the importance of it all. In his hand, the metal turning over and over, its intricate details scraping over his calloused fingers.

He knew the day was coming, ever since time reset, he *knew* that it was out there, floating around the postal service. hidden in his parent’s trailer. It was his deep thoughts that made him go out and steal them from them during off hours, despite it truly belonging to him, and the added guilt did little to calm his nerves.

When he turned around once more, he saw for a brief second the two cold dots who tried to close faster than Jay could witness. And after a moment's pass, they slowly opened once more.

"Sorry," Jay whispered as he tip-toed over, "didn't mean to step so loudly."

"It was not your footsteps that woke me up," Zane's naturally quiet voice responded, "I sensed something was amiss. What's wrong?"

His thumb picked at the key, "I don't know if I can tell you..." even though he really wanted to.

Zane seemed to accept this, whether it was because Jay can be stubborn or if it was because he was too tired to really listen was up in the air though. "It is not wise to hold in your troubles for long."

"I know," he scoffed. Part of him wondered if it really was a bad idea to tell Zane. Telling Nya initially felt like a good idea, but then he remembered how much Nadakahns' magic had affected her with his wishes. A mansion suddenly without explanation? He had lied to her about it then, and she never expressed that she recalls that part of it all.

What he really wanted was more answers. Anything about Cliff Gordon online was tabloid junk or movie trailers. He did very few interviews, and even less magazine article highlights, and so Jay repeatedly ran into blanks when doing research in his own time. Not to mention, he still had no idea who his biological mother was either.

Maybe he was looking in the wrong places. He knew at least one person who had some connection to Cliff, even if it was small and one-off. But could he be honest with him without worrying about everyone suddenly knowing?

"Zane, I'm heading out for awhile. I'll be back by noon tomorrow." Jay assured and headed towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To the city."

--

Two or three motorbikes lined up the street next to the bar. What once was a loud and obnoxious collector of SOG goons had turned a tad more friendly and reserved as evident by the low decibel that escaped the wooden walls. Jay slid open the door to the place, immediately getting hit by the smell of wicker and fried onions.

It seemed like someone else was running the bar today, a potential setback to Jays plan. "Hi, is Dareth here?" Jay cleared his throat as he leaned on the bar.

The tender shook his head, "He's always here."

"Oh, where?"

His gaze went to that of the bartender, redirecting him to the table that Dareth was serving and chatting to. How odd, he wasn't wearing his normal white shirt, but rather a tan one with dark brown embroidery lacing its sleeves and shoulders. It was then that he also noticed how diligent yet subtle he was being of his surroundings. Dareth had spotted him a few time despite being mid conversation, and even somehow managed to slide a few subtle hand gestures towards his way as well.

"He sees you, give him 5." The bartender cut his thoughts, setting a glass of water down on a napkin.

It was enough time to let him breathe and collect his thoughts. He knew he had to explain this to Dareth in a way that would be fool-proof, and he knew that this could also be a dead end. he stuck a hand in his pocket, grabbing a seat and feeling the items within his sweater. Old Receipts, a few hex nuts, multi-tool, wallet, the key, sticky notes- gosh he needed to clean it out sometime. A small part of his mind wondered if it would be worth it to order something at this late, or of Dareth would spot him for that tab.

“Hey Jay! what are you doing out this late at night? Ninja stuff? Late night snack?” Dareth wedged the heel of his boot on the bar stool as he eased himself onto it.

Jay took a drink of the water and looked around, “Yeah I just have a few questions for you, do you have time for that? You know what? I can just come back tomorrow-”

“Time? psh, I have plenty. I mean, look how dead it is?” Dareth pointed to the sparsity, “What’s on your mind ‘Thunder Dome’?” Like he would pass up any opportunity to help.

His fingers tapped on the hard wood, “Well, it’s about, um, -oh come on Jay just spit it out,” He stomped, “It’s about Cliff Gordon, I want to know everything you know about him. A-and what’s your relation to him?”

He laughed a little awkwardly, “You know how I am, I don’t keep ties with people like that, it’s all dust in the wind.”

the curtness in Dareth’s voice prompted him to insist, “I need to know,” Jay pulled the key and letter from his pocket and held it out, “I need to.”

The brown ninja eyed him with some uncertainty before grabbing the two items and unfolding the paper. His eyes glided over the words, face melting into a masked mix of worry and awe. He looked over Jay again, glancing at the paper once more before passing the two items back. The smile returned to his face as he lead on the bar and drew the attention of his worker, “Hey Levi, Can you hold down the fort for the night? Duty calls and you know that means that it’s important.”

The bartender took a look around and nodded, “I’ll call you if anything goes awry.”

“Smart man. Okay Jay, come with me.”

[warningsine]

The redbrick offices, just north of Hamburg’s River Elbe and a few floors below Carlsberg’s German headquarters, are an unexpectedly low-key setting for a food team gearing up to produce Europe’s first tonne of lab-grown fish.

But inside Bluu Seafood, past the slick open-plan coffee and cake bar, the rooms are dominated by gleaming white tiles, people bustling about in lab coats, rows of broad-bottomed beakers and pieces of equipment more at home in a science-fiction thriller. A 50-litre tank (a bioreactor) is filled with what looks like a cherry-coloured energy drink. The liquid, known as “growth medium”, is rich with sugars, minerals, amino acids and proteins designed to give the fish cells that are added to it the boost they need to multiply by the million.

The aim is to one day sell the resulting product – which will be actual fish rather than a plant-based substitute – to shoppers as a more environmentally friendly alternative to depleting the sea in order to meet demand.

“With cultivated fish, you can also maintain the same nutritional benefits, like the omegas, but without the possible allergens, microplastics, or other contamination,” says Seren Kell, science and technology manager at the Good Food Institute (GFI).

The fish grown in the bioreactor is then mixed with plant-based ingredients to make fish balls and breaded fingers.

At this early stage, the company’s first planned destination for its products is not the local restaurants but Singapore, a country where cultivated meat is already so well known, you can chat to taxi drivers about it, says Bluu Seafood co-founder and marine biologist, Sebastian Rakers.

“When we told our taxi driver that we were working on cultivated fish, he said ‘I know that, it’s the future. Many chefs would like to put it on the menu here.’”

Singapore is committed to reducing its reliance on food imports. Lab-grown fish and meat are part of a national strategy to locally and sustainably produce 30% of the country’s food by 2030. That plan, says Rakers, is “on everyone’s lips”.

Lab-grown chicken can already be found in select quantities on restaurant menus in Singapore and America, with other types of meat expected soon. But while trends suggest many people are switching away from meat, the perceived health benefits of fish could be an advantage for lab-grown producers.

“Fish has a ‘health halo’,” says Kell. “But there is a growing awareness that seafood is not sustainable. In the EU there is certainly a question over diminishing fish stocks, and cultivated seafood could benefit from that.”

A recent report from the UN’s Food and Agriculture Organization estimates there is a 28m-tonne gap between how much seafood people want and what can be supplied. One sign of a serious search for an alternative source of production, adds Kell, is a major EU research project called Feasts, funded by the Horizon programme, that included cultivated fish research in its latest €7m (£6m) funding offer.

The type of lab-grown product will matter too, with items such as fish balls, fingers or nuggets a better bet for making it to mass markets, says Hanna Tuomisto, a sustainable food systems professor at the University of Helsinki and the Natural Resources Institute Finland, who studies cellular agriculture. Because of their cellular mix, whole pieces of lab-grown meat and “finless fish” are more complex and therefore more costly to produce.

“A chicken nugget, with undifferentiated cells, is easier to produce than the more complicated and time-consuming process of producing a whole piece of cultivated meat or fish that needs muscle and fat cells,” she says.

A clear advantage to bringing manufactured fish to the market over meat, is a potentially narrow price gap between the lab grown product and the real thing.

“If the holy grail is to match price parity with conventional animal products, then there is a narrower gap for say tuna or salmon [than for cultivated chicken],” says Kell.

Last year, a tasting menu allowing diners to try cultivated chicken at Washington DC’s China Chilcano restaurant cost $70 (£56), compared with a Peruvian-style roasted organic whole chicken at $44. In US supermarkets, you pay about $4 (£3.20) for a pound of traditional chicken. Bluu Seafood estimates a portion of its fish balls will cost about $20 in restaurants, compared with $15 for the regular version.

Price gaps may be even narrower for pieces of whole salmon, says Justin Kolbeck, CEO and co-founder of Wildtype, a cultivated-seafood producer hoping to receive US regulatory sales approval soon. “Salmon is at least $10 [a pound] and prices for premium salmon can exceed $80. That’s one reason I think the economics are different for cultivated fish.” He declined to go into detail about possible prices for his products.

A crucial factor in whether or not cultivated fish takes off is public appetite for it. An unscientific poll on the street near Bluu Seafood’s Hamburg headquarters suggested not everyone was in favour, although most people were positive. “Yes, I would try it, at least once,” says a woman in her 20s. However, another says she “would not pay for lab-grown fish if it was half the price”. She expressed a concern, which may be insurmountable for some, over the comparatively untested nature of cell-based products.

A more precise 2023 consumer study in Japan, the world’s fifth largest seafood consumer, found about 88% of respondents would be unwilling to pay a higher price for cell-based seafood. The other 12% said they would be prepared to pay more, and, of those, about 8% said they would pay “a much higher price”. They will soon have the opportunity to make that choice with one company promising to begin selling lab-grown eel in Japan by 2026.

The same study found that willingness to pay more was determined by an understanding, or not, of lab-grown foods. Those already aware of cell-based seafood “were over 14 times more likely to agree to pay a higher price”, it said.

Rakers had consumer awareness in mind when he made the decision to launch in Singapore. “It’s nice to have your product in a place where people understand it, where people are ready to buy,” he says.

However, it may simply be the novelty that gets people to part with their money in the first instance. As Prof Tuomisto says: “I would probably pay anything just to try it.”

The prospect of his product one day leapfrogging other cultivated meats to supermarket shelves is not impossible, Rakers says, but not just because it’s better for the ocean, fish populations and free of contaminants.

“Fish have a much higher regeneration capacity than mammals,” he says. “Up to 70% of lost tissue can be fully regenerated.” They can even regrow inner organs, he says. To be able to fully regenerate, fish need to reproduce cells and recruit cells quickly to cover wounds. “That is a real advantage for us. It means we can get more activated cells faster. We think we can hit an industrial level of fish cell production by 2026 or 2027.”

Because the cells Rakers and his team produce will be mixed with seasoning and other plant-based proteins to make fish balls, fingers and other products, the final food volumes will be higher than the cell output. But Rakers says the aim is to keep the fish cell ratio as high as possible. “The more cultivated fish meat we add, the cleaner our ingredient list. It’s not like plant-based fish, where you have to mimic fish. It is fish.”

[2q5b]

VAYETZE

By Agnes

November 24th, 2023

In Vayetze, Jacob has a dream.

He has just fled Beer-sheva, and the anger of his brother, Esav. And on the way to Haran, he stops for a night.

And he dreamed; and here, a ladder, standing on the ground, and its head, reaching to the sky; and here, angels of the Divine ascending and descending on it.

And here, God, standing on it; (28:12-15)

In some ways the message of the dream is quite clear. God proceeds to tell Jacob who She is, and makes promises about the land, and about Jacob’s descendents. But it is the first part of the dream – the ladder – that stays with me, and that has lodged itself in the imagination of our culture.

“There is no dream without its interpretation,” Bar Kapparah tells us, in Bereishit Rabbah. Every dream can be interpreted. And also: without an interpretation, you don’t really have a dream.

“A dream that is not interpreted,” the Zohar tells us, “is like a letter that is not read.”

It sits there on the kitchen counter. It may as well have never been sent.

The interpretation of the dream is arguably as important as the dream itself.

Jacob wakes up the next morning. And he begins to interpret his dream.

And Jacob woke from his sleep and he said, Surely there is God in this place, and I, I didn’t know.

And he was afraid, and he said, How awesome is this place; it is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of the sky. (28:16-17)

What struck me, reading the parsha this week, is that he’s really offering two distinct interpretations. 

“Surely there is God in this place, and I, I didn’t know.” God is in this place, just as there might be God in any place.

“How awesome is this place; it is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of the sky.” This place is unique. It is none other than THE house of God. And this is none other than THE gate of the sky.

There’s a certain psychological logic to it. He’s surprised at first. And then he lets the dream settle in, and he becomes awed, even frightened.

His second interpretation is more intense, more definitive. It overtakes the gentleness of the first.

We often use the word dream, colloquially, to talk about the future. My dream is to have a house on a mountain in Tennessee. Or: I have a dream.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

That’s Dr. King. He’s talking about a reality that doesn’t exist yet, but that, he insists, will one day come to be.

And in Jewish tradition, too, dreams are often interpreted as clues to what will happen in the future. Joseph, Jacob’s son, will be a great interpreter of dreams, and his whole career will be built on the fact that he’s able to look through the blurry glass of dreams and see future events that others cannot.

In Pitron Chalomot, a sixteenth century treatise on Jewish dream interpretation, we read that a person’s dreams are a divine gift, Almoli writes, that enable them to see some hint of the future, and adjust their behavior accordingly. The idea is not that these glimpses of the future override our agency. A person’s dreams allow them “to make the choice to avoid evil, or, by means of repentance, good deeds, prayers, and supplications before the Lord, to reverse God’s decree.”

A dream can be a kind of hint, a reminder. A be-careful, a take-courage. 

But we, of course, are still our dreams’ interpreters. And what we choose to say about our dreams matters.

In Berachot 56a, we read, All dreams follow the mouth.

A story:

A certain woman went to Rabbi Eleazar and said to him, “I saw in a dream that the loft of the upper story of my house was split open.” “You will conceive a son,” replied the rabbi. She went away and it happened just as he told her. Later she dreamed the same dream again, and again came to Rabbi Eleazar and told him of it, and he gave her the same interpretation, which was fulfilled just as it had been the first time. She then had this dream a third time and again sought out the rabbi. She did not find him, however, and so she told his disciples, “I saw in a dream that the loft of the upper story of my house was split open.” “You will bury your husband,” replied the disciples. She went away, and it happened just as they had told her. Rabbi Eleazar, upon hearing weeping and wailing, asked what had occurred, and the discoples related it to him. “You have murdered the man!” he said to them. (Ber. Rabbah, Mikketz, 89:8)

The same dream, three times! And it’s just when the interpretation shifts that the outcome takes a turn. All dreams follow the mouth.

Ezra tells me they call Kislev the dreamers’ month. Because there are so many parshiot with dreams in them.

I want to come back, at last, to Jacob’s dream. And to his two, slightly different, interpretations of it. 

What strikes me about the dream, or at least Jacob’s interpretation of it, is that it’s not really a dream about the future. It’s a dream about the present.

There is God in this place. This is the house of God. This is the gate of the sky.

What if that is part of the Torah we’re being asked to consider this week? 

That the present can be as mysterious as the future. That today can be as unknowable as tomorrow. And that what we say about what is unfolding around us matters. 

We are all of us always dreaming the present. And we are always interpreting it.

What else might Jacob have said about his dream?

What if, instead of being afraid, and turning towards the terror of the dream, he had dwelled in his own humility? I did not know, he says. There must be so much that I don’t know.

What if, instead of God, he had lingered upon the angels? Wondered about their multiplicity, their variety, their beauty, the countless messages they carried between this world and the next.

By the end of this week’s parsha, twenty years have passed. Two marriages, twelve children, and a near-catastrophic conflict with his father-in-law later, Jacob encounters the angels of God once again. And this time it is not in a dream: וַיִּפְגְּעוּ־ב֖וֹ מַלְאֲכֵ֥י אֱלֹהִֽים. The angels sieze upon him. They catch him, they will not be avoided. You will not miss us, this time, I imagine them saying, our beauty, our multiplicity, the countless messages we carry between this world and the next.

What, in our dreams of today, are we not attending to? 

What are we missing? 

What will catch up with us twenty years from now, accost us on the road? 

The parsha ends with Jacob’s performing another act of naming. Twenty years earlier he called the place of his dream Beit-El, the house of God. This time he gives the place of his vision a very different name. “This is God’s camp,” he says. מַחֲנֵ֥ה אֱלֹהִ֖ים זֶ֑ה. And he names the place, Machanayim. Strangely, a plural form — two camps.

Jacob has moved from the singular, to the plural. From the hardened certainty of his second interpretation, to the soft wonder of his first. 

I would like to imagine that the plurality of Machanayim echoes the plurality he is starting to find in himself. Two camps, for two interpretations of the same dream. He is split, he dwells in two places. 

We aren’t just dreaming what might be.

We are dreaming what is.

What is here, and we don’t see it?

What is around us, that we do not know?

When we wake up from the dream of the present, the dream may seem singular, but there is always more than one way of interpreting it.

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 495

It was 1:30 p.m. when my manager sent a message on Teams reminding everyone to wrap things up because we were closed at 2:00 p.m. until after the New Year.

(In other words she was reminding us all to not work overtime.)

Being done at 2:00 p.m. was strange, especially knowing that there wasn’t anything outstanding to do. I puttered around my home, taking out trash and recycling as that had been my low bar for chores that week. Despite the fact I’m mostly recovered from my cold, I still had moments of stuffiness. Really the trash thing was more for my comfort than anything else.

By the time 4:00 p.m. rolled around, it was clear now was the time. I had put it off in favour of recovery and work, but with 9 days left in the month and Christmas around the corner I couldn't put it off any longer.

It was time to start a new journal.

Besides the fact it’s often recommended to start a new journal in the New Year, the reality was I used my current journal a lot in the past three months. There are not enough pages for another month. It also looks like its pages are ready to explode at any moment. The fact the cover is still on this book speaks to the quality of the notebook.

Which is good because that was an expensive notebook.

However, it was time to start the notebook that had been sitting on my desk for over a week. It’s a bit nerve wracking touching a new notebook because you’re always worried about wrecking it. I will admit though, it’s nice to work with regular white dot grid paper again. The kraft paper looks nice, but I miss the ability to cut out washi while it’s still on the page and be able to peel it up without worrying it’ll rip the page. This was especially important because part way through doing my future log, I realized I didn’t like the sticker labels that had the months on it, that went with the fairy houses, so I pulled it all up and wrote the months by hand.

It’s going to take a while, it’s a good thing I have holidays.

[x-reader-theater]

can you do rossi x male reader who is some sort of royalty and in love with rossi and is willing to leave his royal duties to marry David but since David is low key famous and v. respected readers family thinks its ok for them to marry (i just want to see rossi as a prince) (more than ok with it not being modern time but don't have to write it in medival)

I'm making this a young Rossi, one that has retired from the BAU but hasn't gone back yet, to make it more plausible that he'd be in another country. Also, this country is one that I made up and I will not be saying the name of because I don't have one lolll

This got long so if anyone wants a part two I'll continue this. Edited by @mystic-writes

Gif by @reidgifs

"Why, my good cousin Gerard, you have waited almost as long as my son to get married! And that's saying something!" your father, the king, says at the dinner table.

"Father, please don't bring this up now…" you mumble into your wine glass.

Your father looks up at you and glares. "Why shouldn't I bring this up now? You should have been married years ago to some lovely woman of high status!"

"But, what if I don't want to marry a woman? Ever think about that!" you exclaim, leaning over the table towards your father. "What if I want to marry a man!"

There's gasps at the table.

"But, don't you want to have children? What if you become king, and you have no heirs?" you mother asks from her position to the right of your father, where she's been delivered to for her entire life.

You shake your head. "I don't want children. And besides, I'm never *going* to become king. You made sure of that," you mutter. "Newsflash! Medicine has actually improved tremendously, and I have four older siblings who are never going to die before me. I'm never going to be able to BECOME king! AND!" you shout, standing up at the table. "Being royalty is nothing more than being a painting for people to ogle at! We have all this money and status and we don't need it! What about the people who we supposedly rule over? What are we doing to give them houses, or food, or jobs? We sit in our ridiculously large castle, which we don't even use half the rooms in, by the way, and there are people that don't even have a house! So, I don't even want to become King. The first thing I would do, as king, would be dismantling and abolishing the royal family, once and for all!"

There's more gasps and you slam down your napkin, which doesn't make a sound but does make a point, and you run out of the dining hall that you only use if your father has guests over. Most of the time the family eats in the kitchens.

You run up to your room and shed your fancy clothing, before putting on a t-shirt, jeans, and a black hoodie with nothing on it. You slip some trainers on and run to the front door, using all the hidden hallways you discovered as a child to make your way to the front of the castle.

You quickly slip your way through the front doors and up to the gate. You give a wave to the guards there and stop, waiting for the gait to open.

"Your highness!" one of the guards exclaims and you roll your eyes.

"Please, don't," you say, putting a hand up. "I just want to get out. Can you open the gate for me, please!"

"But- but we're supposed to go with you! What if you get hurt!" the other guard shouts.

You reach into one of the back pockets of your jeans and you take out a knife, flicking it open, and hold it out to the guards. "I can take care of myself."

They look at each other, back at you, before they nod and press the buttons to open the gate. You smile and thank them, putting your knife away, you make your way into the city.

The walk is long but it clears your head, and you find a bar open late. You walk in and the musty smell hits you immediately, and you smile. Walking in, there's only a couple people in here, and three are sitting at tables drunk off their asses. One, a very handsome, older man, is sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender.

You walk in and sit away from him, six stools away, and when the bartender comes over, and you try to order, a drink is placed in front of you, and you frown.

"Courtesy of Dave," he says, tilting his head to the handsome man, and you look over, and the man smiles and lifts his drink to you before taking a sip.

You look down at your own drink and frown, before picking it up and taking a sip of your own. It's bourbon. Good old American bourbon. And it's exactly what you wanted, and needed. You look up to thank the man when you startle. He's sitting right next to you.

He goes to speak but you cut him off, asking, "How did you know?"

"I'm sorry?" he asks, his breathtaking smile faltering for a moment.

You point to your drink. "How did you know this is what I wanted?"

He smiles again and takes another sip of his own drink. "You came in looking lost, and anyone who's lost needs a good finger of bourbon."

You smile and take another sip. "Your accent. It's American."

"And yours is not," he says, and you smile back at him.

"I'm [Y/N]," you say, holding out your hand for the man to shake. He does, and you feel the calluses on his fingers. "Were you in the military?"

He nods, and his smile widens to a grin. "I was. As well as law enforcement." You nod, and pull your hand away, though you really don't want to. "What about you?"

"Oh, uh," you say, not really knowing what to say to that. "I-I don't really do anything important." Dave nods, seemingly content with that answer and you let out a breath of relief. "Anyways, what do you do now? I do not think you are in law enforcement here."

He shakes his head. "No. I'm just writing now. Traveling the world now that I don't have to stay in one place anymore."

You nod. "I wish I could travel. I want to see Spain, and England, and Japan, and America. And other countries too, but those are at the top of my list," you say.

"Well, as an American, I would love to show you around one day," he says with a grin.

You grin back.

That grin drops however when you hear someone behind you. "My liege? There you are!"

You flinch and turn around slowly to see the captain of the guard, Heinrich, standing there in his full plate armour that really has no use anymore.

"My prince, we must get you home. Your mother is worried sick!" he exclaims, and you look up at him sheepishly.

"'Prince'?" Dave asks behind you.

You turn around and grab his hands. "I swear, I will explain it all one day, but I really have to get back. It was lovely having a drink with you. I would love to do it again some time!"

Heinrich grabs your arm like he used to do when you were a child and drags you out of the little bar, outside where a car is waiting, leaving a stunned Dave behind.

[snelbz]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 9}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

A @snelbz X @theladyofdeath collaboration.

Word Count: 3378

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

***Announcement! *** After the completion of I’ll be Seeing You and Tempting the Fates, all of Tara and I’s joint fanfiction will be posted on a separate blog that we run together > @snacmc. Be sure to follow the new blog as we will start posting on there soon!

Hestia

– Goddess of the hearth, home and family

Mondays and Wednesdays always seemed to drag.

Thanks to her lack of Rowan in class, Aelin’s classes were boring and she found herself thinking of other things, rather than the notes she was supposed to be taking. Like the way Rowan’s eyes had been on her as she went down on him in the shower earlier than morning.

At his insistence, she’d begun using his shower for more than just sex purposes, as she’d so eloquently explained to him the week before. She was regularly staying over, getting ready for her own classes in the morning, just as he was. But whenever one of them followed the other into the tiled shower, it was used for practical reasons.

As well as sexual ones.

Suppressing a whine as she thought of the way Rowan had pinned her up against the cool tiles that morning, Aelin crossed her legs and checked her watch. Only another twenty minutes and then she had her break between classes. She wasn’t hungry, thanks to the protein bar she’d eaten just before this class started, and she was close to the gen ed building, so she decided she would drop by her mythology professor’s office. She had a few questions about the homework he’d assigned yesterday and face-to-face was always better to her than an email.

Once her anatomy professor was wrapping up, Aelin was tossing her books into a bag and hauling ass across campus. Rowan’s last class was wrapping up, too, and she didn’t want to miss him before he hurried off to do whatever else.

She could’ve texted him to stay put, but she didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

She made it to his building and dodged by those who were hurrying off to their other classes or their beds, and stopped at Rowan’s office door before giving it a halting knock.

It took him a second to answer, but when he did, he was handsome as ever.

His shirt sleeves were rolled up, the button down tucked into his trousers. When he saw it was Aelin at his office door, a silver brow lifted.

“Aelin,” he began, clearing his throat. “How may I help you?”

“I have some questions about the homework,” she began, voice low, even though no one else was around. “Can I come in for a second?”

Rowan moved aside before she had finished her question. With one last glance down the hall he shared with a few other first-year professors, he shut the door, sealing them into his office. The blinds were open, but on the third floor, it wasn’t like anyone could see the private meeting he and his student were about to have.

Even if he didn’t know what kind of meeting it was about to be.

“Are you on your lunch break?” She asked, leaning back against his desk.

He nodded. “Didn’t plan on taking lunch, but I’ve got a couple hours before my next class. Was going to work on some grading. Why?”

He had stepped closer, pausing beside one of the chairs he kept in front of the desk for students to sit in.

Aelin clearly had other ideas of where to sit though. With a smirk, she reached out and lightly gripped his shirt, pulling him towards her.

“You had questions about the homework,” he breathed, leaning away as she tried to kiss him.

It wasn’t that he wouldn’t kiss her. He just wanted to see her squirm.

And squirm, she did. “You know very well that I turned in the homework yesterday afternoon.”

She tried to kiss him again, but he fell away, even though his arms were around her waist.

“I don’t recall that,” he taunted. “Maybe you could remind me.”

“I turned it in just before I did this,” she crooned, and her lips found his.

Aelin kissed him, slowly, her arms snaking around his neck. She swore she would never tire of the feeling of his mouth on hers.

“Oh yeah,” Rowan muttered, against her lips. “Now I remember.”

It only took him a second to grab her hips and set her on top of his desk.

There was a clattering of something tipping over, probably a cup of pens or paper clips from the sound of it, but neither of them cared. Not as he gripped the outside of her thigh where her legs were wrapped around him, or her hand found its way into his hair. He was both frustrated and very glad she’d worn leggings today. While he wished she was wearing something with a bit easier access, it was probably a blessing in disguise that he couldn’t get his hand between her legs.

Or his mouth.

Or any other body parts.

That wasn’t stopping Aelin from rubbing against him, looking for friction, as their tongues battled and teeth occasionally clashed. She let out a quiet moan and he tugged on her hair, pulling her lips from his.

“We’re not fucking in my office,” he breathed, looking her in the eyes. “It is way too dangerous.”

She nodded, knowing and accepting the fact, but it didn’t mean she was done kissing him.

“Was this morning not enough?” He smirked, trailing his lips down her throat instead of returning to hers.

“It’s never enough,” she gasped. “Every time I’m away from you…”

Her words trailed off as their lips met. It was true. It was never enough. She was so fulfilled with Rowan, and the second he was gone, she longed for him.

“Come over tonight,” Aelin begged. “Stay with me tonight.”

Rowan groaned as his tongue slipped between her lips.

They stayed at Rowan’s nearly every night. The only times Aelin stayed at her own apartment was when she had an exam or homework she had to work on, without Rowan distracting her. Lysandra and Aedion had met Rowan over dinner a few nights before, though Aelin had insisted take out was much more her friends’ speed than a fully home cooked meal. However, Aelin had a lab due the following morning, so after dinner, Rowan had gone back home.

Alone.

“We have class tomorrow,” he replied, lips still on hers.

“So we’ll make sure we get up early.” Dragging her teeth across his jaw, she gripped his shoulders. “Bring over everything you’ll need to come straight to class.”

Rowan hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“We don’t live on campus,” Aelin said, quietly. “It’s not like I live somewhere surrounded by students.”

Rowan pulled back and met her gaze. “It’s important to you?”

Aelin nodded, arms still wrapped around the back of his neck. “I love being cooped up in your apartment. I really do. But, sometimes I wanna be cooped up somewhere else, too.”

Rowan huffed a laugh. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” Aelin asked, a soft smile painted across her light pink lips.

Rowan couldn’t help his own smile forming as he leaned forward and pulled Aelin closer to him as he kissed her, softly. They went on like that, dwelling in those slow, prolonged kisses. There was something personal, something exceptional about a long, slow kiss. Something sensual that made Aelin’s stomach feel like it was going to explode, even though it lacked that animalistic passion they had come to find within one another.

A quick knock at the door had them jumping apart, Rowan dragging a quick hand through his hair, not having a chance to reply before the door opened.

“Hey, Rowan, I was hoping you could— Oh.”

The pretty woman froze in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of her.

It was innocent enough, though Aelin’s lips were swollen from their kisses. That could easily be explained away, especially as her teeth found the bottom lip and gnawed on it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had an appointment,” she said, eyeing Aelin, who had thankfully gotten off the desk before she’d entered.

“It wasn’t officially booked,” he explained, slightly stepping in front of Aelin to keep her shielded. “Miss Galathynius had a few questions about the homework I assigned in class and about an upcoming project. She stopped by during her lunch break, since her schedule is so busy.”

Silence built in the office, and after a second, Rowan cleared his throat. “Did you need something, Remelle?”

“Maeve sent out an email about a mandatory department meeting for Thursday night,” she said, slowly, still looking at them both suspiciously. “A couple of us in the building were going to get drinks after, wanted to know if you wanted to come.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll plan on it.”

“Good,” Remelle said, a little too quickly. “And check your mailbox in the office. It’s full.”

With another look at Aelin, then at Rowan, Remelle left and the door fell shut behind her.

Silence enveloped the room.

Rowan slowly turned around to look at Aelin, whose face was pale.

“You couldn’t have locked the door?” she whispered.

Rowan scoffed. “Yeah, because that wouldn’t have been suspicious, being locked in here with a student.”

For some reason, the word student felt like a jab coming from him in that moment. Aelin’s back straightened. “I wasn’t aware that the receptionist randomly barges into your office. If a student found it locked, they probably wouldn’t think it was weird, at all. Offices around here are locked all the damn time.”

Rowan sighed and nodded. He stepped towards her and ran his hands up and down her arms, pressing a soft kiss to Aelin’s forehead. “You should go. There’s only so much we can talk about homework.”

Nodding, Aelin wrapped her arms around his waist, and he wrapped her up in his own. “I’ll see you after class?”

“I’ll run by my place to grab some things and pick up dinner on the way,” he promised, tilting her chin up to look at him. “I’ll see you later.”

She nodded and rose up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. Grabbing her bag from the chair, she adjusted her messy bun, which was only a little messier than it had been before and slipped out the office door.

Leaning back on the spot Aelin had just been sitting in, Rowan took a quick moment to breathe before setting his desk to rights and heading down to check his community mailbox. It wasn’t full as Remelle had implied, but there were a few things in it, mostly department memos and notes from other professors. He ignored her suspicious look as he made his way back up the stairs to his office and settled behind his desk to work on the grading he’d planned to do during his lunch.

He was halfway through an essay from one of his upperclassmen when his email dinged on his laptop. It had gone off a few times since Aelin had left, but he’d ignored them, assuming they were automatic replies to Maeve’s email about the meeting.

Tapping on the track pad of his laptop to wake it up, he kept reading over the essay as his email came to life, but he waited until he was done to look over at the most recent notifications.

Freezing, Rowan’s eyes flashed over the subject of the email from Maeve three times before he actually had the nerve to open it.

Meeting in my office after your final class of the evening.

We need to have a talk.

*

Aelin felt as if she had been holding her breath for hours.

Which was exactly how long it had been since she had received her text from Rowan.

As someone who was not nervous or paranoid by nature, she hated the feeling of being so freaked out that she was nearly about to vomit. She had already cleaned her apartment once, and was pouring herself a glass of wine as she was deciding what she could clean next. Maybe she would clean out the fridge.

After downing her glass of wine, she did just that, throwing open the refrigerator door and emptying out what had been in there for over a week.

She didn’t even hear the front door open, nor did she hear her roommate and cousin walk into the kitchen.

“Ace?”

Aelin yelped, jumped, and spun around, nearly knocking over her glass of wine on the counter nearby. “What the hell?” she yelled. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that! Doesn’t anyone realize how fucking rude it is to just barge in?!”

Aedion’s brows shot up as Lysandra stepped forward. “Uh, everything okay?”

Aelin’s face fell into her hands as she leaned against the countertop. “Does it look like everything is okay?” she asked, words muffled.

“What happened?” Lysandra asked, gently prying Aelin’s hands from her face.

Her eyes were still shut, as if she could shut out the world. Taking a deep breath, she released it, answering in one, quick burst. “I think Rowan and I got caught.”

She heard something hit the floor, clearly dropped by Aedion, but Lysandra’s hands went slack on her wrist. “What do you mean?”

Letting her head fall to the countertop, she groaned once before standing up straight and looking at them. Aedion had indeed dropped the bag of pretzels he’d pulled from the cabinet.

“We both had long breaks today, so I stopped by his office to see him for a minute. I didn’t mean for anything to happen. I mean… Yeah, I kinda did. I kissed him first.”

“I don’t need to hear about this. Lys can fill me in,” Aedion muttered, scooping the bag of pretzels off the floor and heading for Lysandra’s bedroom.

“We didn’t fuck or anything,” Aelin sighed after he left. “But we did make out on his desk a bit. It was barely even PG-13.”

“So what happened?” Lysandra asked, getting another glass down and refilling Aelin’s glassed wine and filling one for herself. “How did you get caught?”

“The secretary walked in,” Aelin said, staring at a spot on the hardwood. “She didn’t see anything, we broke apart before the door opened, but… I don’t know. She sounded suspicious, looked suspicious.” Aelin took a sip from her glass. “I mean, seriously, who knocks but doesn’t wait for a come in before they open the damn door? It’s rude as hell.”

“I don’t wait before coming into your room,” Lysandra said.

“That’s different, we live together,” Aelin said, unable to control her chuckle.

Lysandra smiled, but it faded as she shook her head. “That man needs to learn how to lock his office.”

“That’s what I said!” Aelin agreed, and topped off her glass before it was even halfway empty.

“So, what?” Lysandra went on. “She came in but didn’t see anything. Maybe she just always looks suspicious. I’m sure nothing will come out of it.”

Without another word, Aelin took her phone out of her pocket and slid it across the counter. Lysandra slowly picked it up and read Rowan’s text.

Got an email from Maeve. I have to go to her office tonight. Says she needs to talk to me. Sounded urgent.

Aelin had texted back. Did she say what it was about?

No, Rowan had replied. But it doesn’t sound good.

“Have you heard from him since he sent these?” Lysandra asked, setting the phone down.

“No, but we’ve both been in class.” Aelin let her head fall to the countertop again. “He’s supposed to come over after he gets out. But now I’m wondering if that’s such a good idea. What if someone sees him getting here?”

“It’s not all students, and we’re not exactly social butterflies. We don’t know any of our neighbors,” Lysandra said, clearly trying to soothe her.

Aelin just shook her head. “I like him, Lys. A lot. I can see a future with this guy, but… What if this is all too much? It’s too dangerous. We’re jeopardizing our futures.”

Lysandra’s eyes softened. “The secretive part of your relationship is only temporary. Besides, he’s head over heels for you, too. Would it really be worth it to give that up?”

“What if Rowan is about to lose his job?” Aelin shot back. “Lys, I would never be able to forgive myself. I have to do something.”

“Always the hero,” Lysandra muttered. “Look, the best thing you can do right now is stay here, drink wine, and let it all play out. Rowan is a big boy. He can handle himself.” Aelin said nothing, so Lysandra went on. “I just want to see you happy. Does he make you happy?”

“Beyond. Happier than I’ve been in a long time,” she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the counter. “I know it’s only been a few weeks, but… I care about him.”

“And it’s pretty damn clear that he cares about you, so sitting and waiting sucks, but that’s what you’ll have to do.” Lysandra crossed the kitchen and wrapped her best friend up in a hug. Aelin’s forehead fell to her shoulder. “I can send Aedion to get more wine if you want.”

Aelin nodded.

Lysandra chuckled and said, “Then that’s what we’ll do. Why don’t you—?”

A knock on the front door had Aelin’s head snapping up and she hurried from the kitchen. Throwing open the door, she found Rowan standing on the other side. Before he could say anything, she pulled him inside and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. “Gods, I’ve been so fucking worried.”

To her surprise, he laughed quietly, and it only caused Aelin to lean back, eyes wide. “What could possibly be funny right now?”

“I’m not I’m trouble,” he whispered, arms going around her waist. “We’re safe, we’re fine.”

Aelin blinked, all anxiety fading from her body only to be replaced with confusion. “Why did Maeve call you into her office, then?”

“She just wanted to check how things were going.” He shrugged. “Being new, and her nephew, she just wanted to check in.”

“Gods, Rowan!” She shoved his chest, lightly. “You couldn’t have texted me that? I’ve been a nervous mess!”

“She’s not exaggerating,” Lysandra mumbled from behind them. “Hi, Professor.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Hi, Lysandra.”

As Lysandra headed towards her room, he looked down to where Aelin was staring at his chest. He tilted her chin up until she was forced to look at him. His brow furrowed and he was surprised to see silver lining her eyes. “Everything is okay, baby. Why are you crying?”

She shook her head and blinked, but wasn’t able to stop the single tear that spilled over. He wiped it away with his thumb. “I thought we got caught, that I had ruined your life.”

His heart nearly broke. “Aelin…” He wrapped her up in his arms again, holding her as tightly as he dared, as if he could keep her from falling apart. After a second, he leaned back so he could look at her, but didn’t let her go. “Being together isn’t a decision that just one of us has made. We both went into this relationship knowing the consequences. If something were to happen, if someone finds out, you aren’t ruining my life.”

Aelin snorted, and framed his face in her hands. “So we’d both be ruining your life?”

“No one’s life will be ruined,” Rowan promised. “I’m going to be with you, Aelin. Now, and when you graduate, we can have a normal relationship, whatever the hell that means. If you’ll have me, I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s a big promise to make so early in our relationship,” Aelin breathed, running her thumbs across his cheeks.

“I have a good feeling about us,” Rowan followed, melting into her touch.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers, but pulled back and smirked. “But maybe I’ll start locking my office, just in case you decide to make another unexpected visit.”

Aelin threw her head back and laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as she rose up on her toes to kiss him again.

The day had stressed them both out, but throughout it all, there was only one thing Rowan could think about: he didn’t know what his future held, but there was one thing for sure.

He wanted Aelin in it.

[robininthelabyrinth]

I'd love more from your deaging NHS AU verse! Maybe little NHS hanging out more with WWX? Or little NHS meeting JC? Or getting spoiled by JYL?

sequel to Little (deaging NHS - need to read that first)

Hosting another sect leader was both a burden and a privilege.

The burden was mostly logistical – although they’d reclaimed the Lotus Pier, they hadn’t managed to fix it all back up, and it was one thing for all of them to be living in a state more fit for wild bandits than a Great Sect but another thing entirely for them to let someone else see them do so.

Jiang Cheng couldn’t do everything himself, even if he was trying to, so Jiang Yanli stepped up to assist: she turned the kitchens into something livable, requisitioned disciples and laborers to focus on the main hall and the guest rooms, supervised the hiring of those who did the laundry and removed waste, all the important things needed to make their home an inviting one, as long as you were careful to only look at the main parts and not the rest.

Luckily, their guest was Nie Mingjue, not any of the other sect leaders, and he didn’t care. That was, Jiang Yanli suspected, the only reason that Jiang Cheng hadn’t had a full-on heart attack as the date of the man’s approach arrived.

Sure enough, he arrived with as little fanfare as possible, greeted them politely, and promptly sequestered himself, his younger brother, and his chief disciples into a room with Jiang Cheng to discuss sect business. By the time they emerged for dinner, Jiang Cheng looked worn out but immensely pleased, they’d signed a half-dozen treaties, and Jiang Yanli had enough food to feed a small army waiting for them. A good thing, too, since apparently the Nie ate like they’d been starving the week before their meal. Even Nie Huaisang made the food in front of him vanish at lightning-quick speed, and he didn’t even have the build to explain away where all of it was going.

By far the most interesting aspect of it for Jiang Yanli, however, was that Wei Wuxian had made an appearance.

This was something of a rarity recently. Something about the war had hurt him, deeply, and that reason, or for whatever reason, he was very obviously avoiding Jiang Cheng – and, as a result, neglecting the duties that ought to be his as chief disciple. Jiang Yanli knew that it was unintentional, that he still cared for both her and Jiang Cheng, for the sect. But it didn’t make it any easier for them that rather than helping them, he instead spent his days skulking around wine shops, and nothing either of them said seemed to make any difference.  

Both she and Jiang Cheng had already resigned themselves to Wei Wuxian snubbing the Nie sect entirely, but to their mutual surprise he was there with a smile that Jiang Yanli hadn’t seen in weeks, boisterous and loud and trying to steal some of the plates of Nie Huaisang’s food whenever the other man turned to say something to Jiang Cheng. Without success, since being notoriously poor at any martial skill did not keep Nie Huaisang from effectively slapping away Wei Wuxian’s wandering fingers without even looking.

He even volunteered to show them around Yunmeng the next morning – meaning a walk by the river, since the Lotus Pier itself was largely not showable in its current condition – and Jiang Cheng agreed to the idea with no little relief, since he needed some time to get the treaties filed and implemented.

“I didn’t know you two had gotten so close to the Nie sect during the war,” Jiang Yanli murmured to Jiang Cheng, who rubbed his face in exhaustion and joy.

“I think it’s because it’s a reminder of happier days, with Nie Huaisang?” he said hesitantly. “Maybe? Anyway, can you make sure they get snacks along with their tea this evening? Chifeng-zun said he was full when he finished his plate, but Nie Huaisang was definitely eying his neighbor’s bowl longingly at the end there.”

Jiang Yanli hid a smile with her hand. “Of course, A-Cheng. Leave it to me.”

She made an entire pot of soup, plus a handful of side dishes, and brought up the portion to the rooms set aside for the main Nie sect herself. It wasn’t just to give them face, though of course that was important given that the Nie were their most important allies barring maybe the Jin sect – it ought to be the Jin sect, but they were playing games with it, and certain overtures by Madame Jin had led Jiang Cheng to speculate that they hoped to finalize the revival of the engagement between Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan that Jin Guangshan had unilaterally raised not long ago before agreeing to provide any actual aid.

They hadn’t yet decided if it was worth playing the game back, hinting and implying and leaving themselves wiggle room in case Jiang Yanli really didn’t want to marry Jin Zixuan in the end; luckily, this visit by the Nie sect would put off the necessity of that for a good while. Maybe even for good, depending on how good some of those trading contracts were, and Jiang Cheng’s expression gave Jiang Yanli some hope.

Still, despite the absolutely critical importance of the relationship, that wasn’t why Jiang Yanli decided to go act the part of a servant personally.

Instead, she was hoping to use the opportunity see if she could get some insight into whatever they’d done to make Wei Wuxian smile like that, and to see if she could replicate it.

She wasn’t expecting to hear Wei Wuxian’s voice from the guest quarters they’d assigned to the Nie sect.

Not only because it was a little too late for any visit to be appropriate, but because Wei Wuxian had been avoiding the Jiang clan rooms for – rather a while, now. He wasn’t even sleeping in his own bedroom.

And yet – here he was.

Talking like a child.

Jiang Yanli’s heart stopped briefly in her chest when she heard the familiar whine Wei Wuxian liked to adopt when he was playing as A-Xian: it had always been their special game, her favorite way to indulge her mischievous little brother who sometimes liked to be fed and hugged and tucked in at night, and she would have sharp words for anyone who dared criticize it. But – in front of another sect leader –

“A-Xian, stop,” Nie Mingjue’s deep voice said firmly, his amusement audible even through the door. “Give Huaisang the toy back.”

“But da-ge,” Wei Wuxian whined, even though Nie Huaisang’s laugh made clear that he had handed back whatever toy they were talking about. “Why does he get to have the toy and I don’t?”

“I brought you three toys, you brat, and Huaisang only has one. Not everything is for sharing; some things are yours and yours alone.”

Jiang Yanli reflected briefly on the differences in child-rearing techniques between the sects – if it had been Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, she would have encouraged Jiang Cheng to share, and instructed Wei Wuxian to share in return – before realizing that Nie Mingjue was reacting to Wei Wuxian’s nonsense with extraordinary calmness. Almost as if he’d dealt with it before.

Almost as if he accepted it.

Jiang Yanli steeled her spine and knocked.

“I brought some snacks, Sect Leader,” she called.

There was a brief moment of quiet – some brief murmuring in low voices – but at last he said, “Enter,” and she did.

Wei Wuxian was sitting on the floor with his face buried in Nie Mingjue’s thigh, Nie Mingjue’s hand petting through his hair in a calming gesture; behind them, a small child of around seven, dressed in oversized Nie robes, lolled around on his stomach, his legs kicked up in the air, as he toyed with some puzzle game. Jiang Yanli hadn’t realized the Nie sect had brought along a child – one certainly hadn’t been present at dinner – but under the circumstances she opted not to comment.

“I thought you might still be hungry,” she said with a smile. “So I made some snacks, and soup.”

“Soup!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, lifting his head to reveal red cheeks. “Da-ge, you have to try shijie’s soup!”

“I intend to,” Nie Mingjue said. He was looking at Jiang Yanli thoughtfully. “Would you care to join us, Mistress Jiang?”

“I’d be happy to,” Jiang Yanli said, though she’d originally intended no such thing, and settled down to serve it out. “Thank you for taking care of A-Xian.”

“It’s nothing,” Nie Mingjue said. “A charming child, and one that speaks very highly of you. You must be very proud.”

“I am,” she agreed, and from the corner of her eye saw all the tension drain out of Wei Wuxian’s shoulders at her affirmation of their game. He scrabbled over to her side, abruptly affectionate, and cuddled up. “A-Xian, no! I need that hand to serve the soup. Didn’t you just say that you want Nie-da-ge to have some?”

Wei Wuxian pouted, but withdrew his sticky tentacles. The child on the bed laughed again and rolled over and up to his feet, hopping over to where Wei Wuxian was. “Wei-xiong can play with me while we wait.”

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian agreed at once. “We can play tag!”

“Don’t break anything,” Jiang Yanli said, and discovered to her amusement that Nie Mingjue had said the same exact thing at the same exact moment. He smiled crookedly at her, very briefly – his expression was not one usually given for smiling, typically stern and grim even when it was neutral, and the expression made him look suddenly younger.

“Younger siblings,” he said, an explanation and an excuse, and abruptly Jiang Yanli knew who the child must be. She didn’t know how it was that Nie Huaisang had physically regressed into childhood, as well as doing so emotionally the way Wei Wuxian did, but she supposed it didn’t really matter.

“Yes,” she said, and smiled back at him. “A-Xian likes it when I feed him his meals. Does…?”

Nie Mingjue shook his head. “Huaisang is very proud,” he said, voice fond. “He wouldn’t accept that sort of help from me, though perhaps he might accept it from you if he sees A-Xian getting a treat.”

“Children that age can be very jealous of each other,” Jiang Yanli agreed. “It’s a good thing that A-Xian is five today, so he can play with his friend, and not three. Maybe he can be three another time.”

“I must admit I haven’t noticed much difference so far,” Nie Mingjue remarked. “He’s still always clamoring for hugs.”

“Da-ge gives the best hugs,” Nie Huaisang said loyally.

Wei Wuxian looked a little shifty, but Jiang Yanli nodded at him supportively and he smiled. “They’re really good, shijie,” he confided in her. “He can pick me up!”

Jiang Yanli’s smile broadened, even as Nie Mingjue’s shoulders went up a little in embarrassment.

“We’re all good at different things,” she assured him. “Nie-da-ge is good at hugs, but I bet I’m better at doing your hair, right?”

“Yes! Shijie’s the best!”

“I want my hair done by Jiang-jiejie,” Nie Huaisang declared, eyes avid. “Can I?”

“After we eat,” Nie Mingjue said. “And only if you ask very nicely, and Mistress Jiang says yes.”

“I’ll say yes,” she said, and then, as an aside to Nie Mingjue, added, “You can call me Jiang-meimei if you like. If I’m calling you Nie-da-ge and all.”

He smiled again.

At some point, Jiang Yanli would need to examine how exactly Wei Wuxian had ended up taking Nie Mingjue as one of his caretakers, as well as how Nie Huaisang managed a full-fledged bodily transformation – and they’d need to bring Jiang Cheng in on this, somehow, even though he was neither caretaker nor little, simply because he would be jealous at being left out. And there was still Wei Wuxian’s unusual behavior, his inexplicable distance from all of them…

But that was a problem for later.

For now, they could just be there for them.

[cerastes]

May I request a review of general coolness and awesome of the horses we saw during the event?

Right, Maria Nearl event!

I liked the event quite a lot, though I do feel like it dropped the ball at the end. That aside, I had a lot of fun the entire time!

First of all, the cast was wonderful. Maria is explicitly not a powerful or skilled fighter to any degree that matters in the frame of strength the story takes place in, being definitely more skilled than the average person and even the average nameless knight, but being woefully outclassed by practically anyone that has a name in the Major. A humble mechanic with a heart drenched in justice, Maria doesn’t even like to fight, and adheres to a knightly ideal and a duty she must fulfill instead to justify her participation in these commercialized bloodsports, which carries the narrative. She is joined by a lovable cast of rambunctious family and family friends, who serve as her mentors and support: Her aunt, who is more akin to an older sister-slash-maternal figure, Zofia, who we are immediately shown is so close to Maria that the moment Maria made a big decision (the participation in the Major) without confirming with Zofia first, she immediately chastised her, wondering why she did not consult with her beforehand. Aunt Zofia is her aunt only due to technicality, as she’s a lady-in-waiting (or, in other words, belongs to a branch family of the Nearl clan, and is actually only 5 years older than Maria) and, more importantly, a decorated, retired competition knight who earned enough in her career that she can live comfortably for the rest of her life, ironically far outstripping the main Nearl house in terms of wealth. There’s also Kowal, an old Ursus mechanic, engineer and smith who mentors Maria in the ways of the wrench, willing to pass his workshop to Maria with her as his successor any day of the week, who himself also used to be a squire to V, an old, retired knight of old who served as Grandpa Nearl’s peerless sharpshooter and who trained Zofia back in the day. Finally, we have Old Marcin, owner of the cast’s favorite hangout, a little bar where he and Maria mediate the infinite squabbles, fights, and arguments that Kowal, V, and occasionally Zofia spark between one another. The event does a great work of introducing the dynamic between these five characters as something extremely domestic and comfortable: You can tell these five are tight and that they have spent a long time together. It’s just another day in their low profile lives when, suddenly, Maria dons Margaret’s old armor and decides to take arms for the main Nearl house, which is currently on the brink of ruin and about to lose its knighthood and nobility titles.

And this decision, and everything this decision means, informs everything that happens afterwards: Zofia tells Maria that if she’s worried about being left homeless, then that’s just foolishness, since Zofia is absolutely 100% ok with Maria moving in with her. She’s loaded. They can live comfortably for the rest of their lives without a concern. Kowal, likewise, insists that Maria is a good enough mechanic that she can earn a living by doing that. But, see, it’s not about a livelihood for Maria, it’s about preserving that for which Margaret and Grandpa Nearl fought and stood for, it’s never about the wealth, it’s about the name, the principle, not the glory, the weight of ideals that blood was shed to nourish and maintain. Maria is not even sure if she’s doing the right thing, but she’s got to do something. Why? Look no further than Uncle Mlynar. A bitter man, a corporate slave, spitting bile at her niece and apologies at his bosses. And the fact that it is very clear that this guy can kick some serious ass -- we never see him without his trusty blade hanging on his hip and, at the end, tells Margaret to square the hell up -- makes it all the sadder: In any other context, Mlynar might be a knight’s knight, hell, Margaret herself says she respects him still, but the Mlynar we see now is an unimportant cog in the capitalist system, just another grunt apologizing to his phone every time his lips part, who gets in hot water just by making small talk because, whoops, your workload accumulated again, better get chop chopping. Mlynar is a very telling character, because he represents everything Maria resents about the current state of the Nearl family: Disgraced, meaningless, existing as an extension of other bigger conglomerates. He is what she wishes to never become, and what the Nearl house cannot be any longer, if she has any saying on the matter.

Maria is not a good fighter. This is important and delightful, because she wins not due to aptitude, strength, or experience, she instead uses her knowledge as a mechanic, her “pegasian sight” (what Grandpa uses to refer to Maria’s incredibly powerful investigative faculties, being able to analyze situations and catch even the smallest details quickly) and the sheer heft of her brass pair of metaphorical horse balls to pull through with clutch victory after clutch victory. Zofia trying to cram as much fundamentals as she can on Maria in as little time as possible so she can survive also helps a lot.

Maria’s victories earn her the possibility of sponsorships, which would, superficially, fix her problems: The main Nearl house would retain status, she’d get a Title, and she would not have to fight anymore. But, see, this is not the point of Maria’s fight. One might say “Maria should’ve just taken the sponsorships”, but that’s not the point of Maria’s fight. She is pushing back against this highly commercialized view on “knighthood”, just like Margaret before her did. Margaret had a clear intent and her passions made her act mostly in anger, as she makes no secret: She hates Kazimierz for what it has become. Maria’s intent is less clear, even to herself, but she’s very much aiming for the same thing, but instead of Margaret’s anger, Maria has her determination. To have taken any sponsorship would have superficially kept the Nearl house afloat, but Maria is not looking to keep the house alone afloat, she’s looking to keep the house and the ideals in which it was built afloat. It goes beyond mere status.

In a world as bleak as Arknights’ and specially Kazimierz, Maria is no doubt naive to the point of frustration... But it is that which we call naive that makes a knight’s knight: Chivalry forged from ideals, sacrifice’s blunt borne from beliefs. The easy way out would’ve ultimately doomed her story, hence why she did not just move in with Zofia, hence why she did not just succeed Kowal and accept his workshop, hence why did not accept a sponsorship: It never was about that.

The very first event of the game, Grani’s Treasure, takes place in Kazimierz as well, but in the isolated outskirts, and we see hard-working, honest people, inhabitants of a nice little scenic hamlet. Now, we see what Kazimierz really looks like: A sprawling megalopolis of neon and concrete where the system shamelessly feeds on whoever sticks out their neck. The contrast couldn’t be harsher, and any hell is upheld by its demons: Czarny was a fascinating character, in that he very clearly held a lot of influence and power... And was extremely replaceable. The moment he messed up badly enough, he was instantly replaced by just whoever the hell picked up the phone next. It’s chilling. One puppet performed poorly? Irrelevant, there’s an endless supply who’ll take his place, provided enough fear and funds. Fear and money. The two currencies of Kazimierz. When a shadow council can just appoint you as the next Spokesman just on basis of you having picked up a phone without any real background check beyond “the previous Spokesman likely intended for this next sack of meat to pick up his phone in case he messed up”, well, congratulations, you’ve crafted a terrifying capitalist hellscape. No wonder Margaret hates Kazimierz so much, given the rot brewing in its underbelly and upper echelons.

And to all this, I have to say: It’s lovely. I loved the world building, implicit and explicit, I loved the cast, I love the themes explored and how characters were used to juxtapose these.

I feel it kinda drops the ball at the end by just... Not having a conclusion? It just sort of ends, which is very weird because events tend to be good at concluding themselves. I assumed we’d get some post-Challenge stages cutscenes to tie everything up like in the past but... No, not really, it didn’t happen. Margaret swoops in, the sisters perform the Ultimate Kamehameha on the Sarkazian Knights, and then it sort of ends one brief talk later. It needed a bigger epilogue, for sure. But this doesn’t ruin the event or anything, just a bit of a weak ending, everything else is still delightful and I loved it very much.

So yeah! The horses sure were wonderful!

[thenigotthisfamily]

Gift

Summary: Yelena throws a grand surprise party for Natasha. 

Word Count: 3,523

Notes: I wrote this so long ago and have been waiting to publish it since the events of it technically take place today haha. 

Yelena’s eyes shot open at 6am. She couldn’t remember the last time she was up before 10, usually Natasha had to drag her from the bed. But today, Yelena felt like she had enough energy to stay up for the next 3 days because she was so excited and nervous.

It was December 2nd, meaning that Natasha’s birthday was tomorrow. It was Nat’s first birthday since she came back from the dead and reunited with Yelena, and only the second the two were able to celebrate together in person since Ohio. Therefore, Yelena was planning to throw Natasha the biggest surprise party today so she wouldn’t expect anything.

Yelena had been planning the party for months. First, she talked with Tony, because he owned the compound and let’s be honest, was great at throwing parties. Tony immediately agreed, excited himself. Natasha never liked surprises, so never had the Avengers dared to throw her a surprise party. Actually, Natasha didn’t really like parties, and on previous birthdays she usually just had a low-key meal at the Barton’s or at the compound with just the group. Tony always wanted to throw a big party for her, but was scared of how she would react. But with Yelena orchestrating it, Tony knew Natasha would love it.

Yelena quickly recruited all the others to help as well, sternly telling them it was to be a surprise. “Looking at you Spangly,” she had said to Steve, smirking. “No messing this up with your terrible lying skills.” Steve looked sufficiently threatened at the comment and quickly nodded. He vowed to make sure no one found out, even if it meant he went on extra missions just to avoid Natasha and her asking what was going on.

All the Avengers had their own part of the plan. Steve, Bucky, and Sam were in charge of the cake. Yelena knew that it was a dangerous task to give the men, but she needed to give them something and she hoped between the three of them they could figure it out and not burn the complex down in the process. The way Sam had grinned mischievously at her hadn’t made her feel great about the choice, but they all knew the importance of this to Yelena, so she believed they’d come through.

Wanda and Vision were assigned to decorating duty considering both could fly and Wanda could make things out of nothing. Wanda always had a thing for redesigning homes anyway, so Yelena knew they’d make the perfect team for the decorations.

Bruce and Pepper were in charge of the food. Bruce wasn’t a natural at any sort of party activities, but he was well organized. And Pepper of course was a great planner, was connected with the best catering companies, and knew all of Natasha’s favorite dishes.

Peter was in charge of the music. Though Yelena didn’t leave it all up to him, wanting to insert some of her own music that she knew Nat would like as well. But she ultimately let the kid pick most of the playlist. “Got to liven up this old crowd,” Yelena had joked with Peter, referring to their older comrades. Peter just grinned and spent the next few days pouring over the playlist for hours with MJ and Ned, insisting it had to be perfect for the two sisters that deserved the world.

Tony of course was in charge of the entertainment and facilities. He had Friday clear schedules and make sure the bar was fully loaded and the facility decked out to its finest. Yelena had said that Tony could only invite other Avengers and their allies, no random outside people. She knew that Nat, even though she could navigate a party with ease, preferred just people that she knew and was comfortable with. Which Yelena appreciated because she didn’t want to invite any random people either. Tony, who normally would just disregard the request, knew how important it was and promised it would only be people they knew.

Clint was in charge of keeping Natasha distracted and busy leading up to the party. This meant he had to convince Nat to go on a small mission with him somewhat randomly.  Natasha had been very skeptical, especially when Yelena said she didn’t want to go, something about not feeling the best and wanting to get more familiarity with the others. Natasha was glad to see Yelena wanted to get to know the others more, but was skeptical that she didn’t want to come because Yelena always begged to go on missions with Natasha and would follow her anywhere, even if she only was going to the store to buy milk. However, Clint had said it would be like old times with just the two of them and that the kids really wanted to see Nat on the way back, so Natasha relented, hugging her sister goodbye and leaving a few days before the party she had no idea about.  

Yelena spent the morning checking in on everyone and so far, everyone had been doing great at their responsibilities. Steve, Sam, and Bucky were still working on the cake, much to Yelena’s nervousness, but other than that everything seemed to be going well.

But now Yelena herself was stressing about her own responsibilities. You see, despite all the plans and hours she put into the party, she still hadn’t gotten Natasha a gift. There were a lot of things that crossed Yelena’s mind, but she wanted it to be perfect and couldn’t settle on something. So when the day of the party came, Yelena found herself at the mall doing some last minute shopping. She always thought it was ridiculous that people panicked over last-minute gift shopping, but now she completely understood. She had been walking around for hours trying to find the right thing and realized she needed to be back at the compound for last minute preparations when she still hadn’t found anything. She huffed, frustrated with herself for leaving empty handed but knowing she had to return for the party.

Back at the compound, Yelena checked in with Clint through their encrypted line he had set up to strictly talk about party planning. “We’re just about to head out from my house so we’ll be there in about an hour. I think everything has gone well, she doesn’t seem to suspect anything.” Clint said, standing in the back of his house so Nat wouldn’t hear him. 

Yelena nodded nervously, it was good to hear, but Natasha was the world’s greatest spy. The chances that she did suspect something were high and Yelena couldn’t help but feel that maybe she already knew. But Clint insisted that everything would be fine and Yelena was determined to make the best of things.

The decorations Wanda and Vision had set up were perfect. They were holding the party in the main event room with windows on all sides, a fully loaded bar, pool tables, arcade games, and extensive comfortable seating courtesy of Tony. Streamers hung beautifully from the chandeliers, balloons floated at different levels throughout the room from Wanda’s magic, and a huge “Happy Birthday Poser!” banner hung across the room from balcony to balcony.  

The food was already laid out by Pepper and Bruce, and Yelena was delighted to see all of Nat’s favorites, from exquisite Russian dishes, to mac and cheese (okay maybe that one was more for Yelena).  

Peter already had his tunes going, and Yelena grinned at him, tousling his hair and saying he did a great job, making him blush a bit.

Lastly, Steve, Sam, and Bucky, came in carrying an enormous cake and Yelena’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets. It was a beautiful 3-dimensional cake, shaped like an hourglass, Nat’s logo. She looked at the boys in shock. They all just shrugged. “It may have taken us 3 days and about 50 makings of cake batter, but we figured it out.” All Yelena could do was grin in awe and happiness, thanking the guys profusely. They only smiled in response, happy to do anything for the two sisters, even if it meant baking for 3 straight days.

It was shortly after that the others Tony invited started to arrive. Thor, Valkyrie, Happy, Rhodey, MJ, Ned, Maria, Fury, Carol, Okoye, and Shuri all came shuffling in. Yelena was shocked when she saw Antonia come through the door, and Tony winked at the blonde as she felt a wave of gratitude toward the billionaire. A few like Strange and Lang hadn’t been able to make it, and Yelena had chosen to not invite Melina and Alexei, not wanting Alexei to start a scene with Steve at Nat’s party, but the turnout was otherwise great.

Yelena checked her watch. They’d be there in the next 10 or so minutes. Her hands started to shake nervously. What if Natasha already knew? What if she didn’t like it? What if she got mad about being surprised? Natasha deserved the world and Yelena was nervous the party wouldn’t deliver.  

Steve seemed to notice her anxiety and came up beside her. “She’s going to love it.” He said it in a resolute tone, and Yelena calmed slightly, knowing Steve knew her sister well. “Especially because you did this for her.” She turned to him at that, eyes widening a bit. He just gave her a big smile. “You make her really happy Yelena. Happier than I’ve ever seen her, and I’ve known her a long time.” Yelena flushes and looks down at the comment, feeling her throat clench a bit but also overcome with happiness that she made her sister happy. Steve just smiled and patted her on the shoulder, walking back to the crowd.

“Incoming.” Yelena hears Clint in her ear. Her eyes widen and she immediately turns to everyone, waving her arms. They all immediately understand what’s going on and quiet. Friday dims the lights so that it’s almost dark in the room, but not threateningly so.

It’s only seconds later that the redhead walks in the room. “Clint! I wanted to go see Yelena, what is so important-“

“Surprise!!” The lights flood back on, and Natasha is startled as she sees all her fellow Avengers and friends grinning at her. She’s so surprised she almost panics slightly at the suddenness of the sound and light, but immediately calms when she sees Yelena in front of her grinning nervously.

Natasha quickly scans the room eyes widening as she sees the huge banner, realizing this is a birthday party for her. She also notes that almost all her friends were there, some even coming from different planets just to be there for this. She feels emotion come to her chest as she looks at her sister who is looking a bit nervous, likely trying to gage how Natasha will react. Natasha just grins at her sister, and Yelena immediately relaxes, relieved. She goes over and embraces Yelena who hugs her back tightly. “Thank you little one.” She murmurs, and Yelena can hear the emotion in her voice.  Nat then turns to everyone else. “Wow, I’m honestly genuinely shocked. You guys really got me, thank you so much.” The others all grin and cheer and slowly go back to their own conversations.

Natasha’s eyes then widen, realizing something. She turns quickly to Clint. “You!” She points jokingly at him. “I knew there was something off with that mission. Was that intel we gathered even real??”

Clint just grins at her, looking a bit sheepish. Nat’s eyes soften, not really mad at all. She goes over to hug her best friend, thanking him. He shakes his head a bit. “It was all her idea,” he says, nodding at Yelena who blushes slightly but looks at Clint with appreciation in her eyes.  

Nat smiles back at her sister, grabbing her hand. “Come on Sestra, show me everything.”

Yelena gleefully shows Nat around the party. They first grab food, both being very hungry, and Natasha is super excited to see all the Russian dishes while Yelena piles her plate with mac and cheese.

They look at the decorations, Natasha in awe at the fact that everything was basically created with magic and grins at Wanda proudly.

Natasha compliments Peter on the playlist, tousling his hair just as Yelena had, and chatting happily with him, MJ, and Ned for a bit, loving the innocence of the young teenagers.

When Nat comes to the cake her jaw literally drops. Steve, Sam, and Bucky look immensely proud of themselves for leaving the Black Widow speechless. When Natasha does find her voice she tells them all how impressed she is before asking, “so how long did it take you boys?”

They all grin sheepishly, slightly embarrassed. “3 days.” Yelena pipes up beside her. Natasha laughs loudly and the others do as well, happy to see Natasha so joyful, even at their expense.

The rest of the night goes by in a relaxed and enjoyable manner. Natasha is glad that it’s only people she’s completely comfortable with and loves catching up with everyone. She hears about new space adventures from Carol and Thor, talks new fighting moves with Okoye, reminisces with Tony, Pepper, and Rhodey about her time undercover at Stark industries, and talks old SHIELD missions with Fury, Clint, and Maria. All with her favorite person by her side.

Finally, the night is winding down and everyone is a bit tired and buzzed, lounging about on the couches. It’s then that Yelena clears her throat, standing up nervously. Natasha looks up at her sister, eyes widening as she realizes Yelena is about to give a speech.

Yelena looks nervous but steels herself as she looks at Natasha who’s smiling at her lovingly. “I just wanted to say a few things. First, thank you so much to everyone here for coming and for all of you that helped me out with everything. Even if you almost did burn down the compound.” She looks pointedly at Sam, Bucky, and Steve who just grin back. “Second, everyone please take a party favor when you leave.” She holds up a shot glass with the hourglass symbol on it and the word “poser” written underneath. Natasha rolls her eyes, but grins nonetheless. 

“And lastly,” Yelena locks eyes with Natasha. “Thank you to my sister. Who has been my hero long before any of you knew her as an Avenger, and who makes me so incredibly happy that words can’t begin to describe it.” Natasha gulps as her throat clenches a bit. “You’re my best friend Natasha Romanoff. And I love you. Happy Birthday.” She raises her glass, never taking her eyes off her sister, both holding back tears from the love they see in the other’s eyes.

The other Avengers cheer and toast their glasses as well, all looking on fondly at the interaction between the sisters, completely happy to see Natasha finally at peace with her life.

Natasha then gets up as well and the room quiets again. “To reiterate what my sister said, thank you so much for this everyone. I was truly surprised and touched that you all took the time to come out here for me. I’ve missed all of you that I haven’t seen in a while, and it’s been great to catch up.”

The others nod in agreement. “We’re just glad you’re back with us,” Clint pipes up, in reference to her coming back from the dead. That gets a chorus of cheers and nods, with Yelena becoming emotional at the thought of her sister being dead not that long ago.

Nat smiles a bit. “I’m glad you brought that up Barton. I know we don’t all talk about it much since it’s kind of uncomfortable and weird, but when I sacrificed myself, it was with all of you in mind, and I have absolutely no regrets about that.”

Now the whole group gets slightly emotional, they all know that any of them would sacrifice themselves for any of the others, but to hear it verbalized by someone that had actually done it had such a huge significance.

Nat continues, “So I died for a lot of people,” she then turns to Yelena, locking eyes with her and seeing tears in her sister’s eyes. “But I only came back to the living for one person, no offense to all of you.” She smirks at them and they all smile, not feeling offended at all. “And she’s right here.” Nat pulls Yelena to her, kissing her brow. “And I’m so glad to see how you all have taken her in with open arms. Because I love her more than anything.” Yelena’s eyes shine with tears, and she leans more into Natasha. Natasha feels the emotion herself as all her best friends look at her with happiness and love at her being happy.

She clears her throat. “And I may have died for you all, but if any of you hurt Yelena, I will kill you, no hesitation.”  Everyone laughs at that, knowing full well Natasha was not lying in the slightest, but none of them having thoughts about harming Yelena as they all had grown to love the girl as well. Natasha raises her glass. “Cheers to us, and hopefully for the many more celebrations we have to come.”

They all lift their glasses and drink, everyone feeling at home and content with their family. Natasha sits back down with Yelena who curls in her side and nuzzles her neck, actions conveying the emotions her words couldn’t.

It’s almost 3 in the morning when the group starts to disband. As much as they all loved being together, everyone had their own lives and issues to get back to. They were Avengers after all, relaxing for extended periods of time wasn’t exactly in the job description, but none of them would change their job for the world. Eventually everyone who didn’t live at the compound started to leave, giving Natasha well wishes and promising to come back soon.

Soon it was just the people that still lived in the compound left. Natasha was still curled on the couch with Yelena’s head resting in her lap. The redhead looked at the others who were all tired, yet happy. “Thank you.” They all smile and nod. Truly it had been a pleasure for them to be able to make this day happen for Natasha, someone they cared so deeply about.  

Eventually they all headed off to their rooms, agreeing to clean up the next day.  Natasha had carefully guided a half-asleep Yelena back to their apartment, all but carrying her little sister. It was clear the girl had spent hours and hours planning today, and Natasha couldn’t be more proud and grateful for the blonde.

Finally, she got them both in her bed and pulled the covers over Yelena. “Thank you so much little one.” She murmurs, kissing Yelena’s cheek.

Yelena hums a bit, fully ready to fall asleep when she remembers something and her eyes shoot open. Nat looks at her in surprise. “What is it little one?”

Yelena, now fully awake, pulls back a minute in panic. “I….I didn’t get you a gift.” She wraps her arms around herself, feeling immensely sad and vulnerable, thinking she’s let Natasha down.

Natasha blinks for a second, not fathoming how Yelena could be down on herself for that after she just threw Natasha the best party she’s ever been to. Natasha reaches out and pulls Yelena back into her arms. “Little one, of course you got me a gift. What do you think that whole party was?”

Yelena huffs a bit, shaking her head. “But that was a party, not a gift.”

“But they are one in the same to me Yelena. Because that wasn’t just any party, that was a party made especially for me, by the person I love most in the world. You thought of everything that I would want. From the food, to the decorations, to the company. You fully understood what I would want and made it special. And you managed to keep it a surprise which I’m still not sure how you pulled off because nothing like this has ever gotten past me before.”

Natasha smiles at Yelena warmly and Yelena relaxes a bit, happy that Natasha isn’t mad or sad about not getting a gift. “Guess you’re getting a bit slow, poser.” Yelena smirks and nuzzles Nat with her nose.

Natasha just laughs and shakes her head, pulling Yelena back under the blankets with her. Yelena snuggles up to Natasha but looks at her again with some doubt. “You’re really okay with me not having a gift?”

Natasha just nods and kisses Yelena’s head, pulling her close. “Little one, you are the greatest gift I could ever ask for. What more could I want?”

Yelena feels a few tears leave her eyes at that and buries her face in Natasha’s shoulder. “Я люблю тебя больше чем что-либо[1].”

Natasha closes her eyes, overwhelmed even now with how lucky she is to have Yelena who loved her so much. “Я тоже люблю тебя больше всего на свете Rooskaya[2].”

Translations [1] I love you more than anything  [2] I love you more than anything too

[weirdlet]

The stranger walked into the saloon, ducking quietly to clear the door-frame as she did- broad shoulders held low and rounded, hoping to slip past the crowd to the bar with a minimum of fuss.  Hat tilted, collar up on a long sheep-skin coat to fend off the weather, breath still frosted from the chill- and of course, the holster-strap on her hip slithering out as she pulled the dwarfish hand-cannon and its attendant gun-belt out of place and set it in a designated cubby-hole.  From the way the orc moved, there was more protection still beneath the layers, likely boiled leather above and the evident broad riding-chaps below.

Despite her best efforts, every eye in the place could note her, every ear could hear the name whispered on the beer-soaked breeze, every tongue filled up with the rumors that had chased her for a year and more since the (city name) incident-

“Do you see, do you hear- that’s Black-Eyed Jenny-”

“A back room and a beer, please,” she murmured hurriedly, and the girl at the bar scurried to oblige.

.......

The ghost was the size of a child, and that was the only thing that took Jenny aback.

Plucking half-heartedly on a lute, the halfling man looked up from his place on the stage and sighed whispily.

“Another day, another dollar gone,” he stage-whispered, a dramatist to the end and beyond, and

something something Jenny pulls out a coin to plunk into his hat, figures that might be the fastest way to send him on his way, and he startles like a cat with a banana, going “You can SEE ME??”  Who are you, I got shot here!  Who are you?  I’m- nobody important, says Jenny, still trying to duck fame.  Input a part earlier about how she knows this town, would have avoided it if she could, but the weather and the terrain meant it was the only decent pathway home, and so she came by even though it was related to The Incident that she was only tangentially a part of.

An infamous outlaw shot a halfling over a wager gone wrong, and the stories all remember him and his kill-count, his mad dash fleeing from the law, the trouble it took to bring him in, and of course, the botched hanging and escape afterwards.  There’s a song about it.  Several, actually, and some newspapers are still keeping up with the story, and there’s a couple of copper-novels being written up and printed out as we speak.

Nobody remembers the little man who got plugged and lay there, clutching his lute as he died, thinking but what’ll become of me now-?

Jenny had no intention of getting more involved in this mess.  But the little man is hanging around, lingering, and if her ancestors taught her anything it’s that to ignore that sort of thing goes against the way of healing.  To be free in body and spirit is the right of every creature, no matter how hindered or harmed, and unless the ghost is malevolent enough to start psychically polluting the place, she’s not about to forge him into a ghost-blade and dump him in a river either.  Not that she has that capability, but she could call on any cousin in a settlement with a Forgemistress to do it if she chose.

Long story short, she goes on her way again after a bit of self-directed graverobbing from the halfling himself, a shattered lute in her saddlebag, and her mam is never going to let her live this down.

[samstree]

hi dear!! what about 37 for the pining prompts?? only if you feel like it 💞💞

37. "Characters cannot touch for plot reasons." Thanks for the prompt Chrysa!! Here's more empath!Jaskier!

Unfinished Story

Empath!Jaskier, 2.4k, soft geraskier, ciri has a nightmare, hurt/comfort, mentions of past violence

Part of the Empath AU 

Read on AO3

Ciri’s scream pulls Geralt out of his doze.

He springs up immediately, knocking Jaskier’s arm out of the way. The bard grumbles something incoherent on the bedroll before fully waking. “G’ralt, what is… Oh, shit.”

The scream continues, Geralt’s medallion thrumming because of the chaos carried by the sound. The ember is dying but the moon provides enough light for him to see Cir in a fetal position, her face buried in the crook of her elbow. Her ashen-colored curls obscure the view.

Geralt half-scrambles to her side, familiar panic seizing his heart. It’s been so long since she had a nightmare this bad, so long that it’s taking him a second to react.

“Ciri.” He shakes her shoulder gently, but she flinches away. The smell of fear rolls off of her in waves. “Ciri, wake up. You are dreaming.”

The sharp wail trails off to a quieter one, but her eyes stay shut, her brows agonizingly knitted tight. Geralt tries to soothe her by stroking her hair, only to have her snatch his hand and holding onto it for dear life. He squeezes, hoping it’s a comforting gesture.

Each of Ciri’s cries sends a pang of regret in Geralt’s chest. If only he could go back in time. If only he had found her earlier, before the horrors of Nilfgaard—

“Hey, let me help.”

A hand falls to Geralt’s shoulder, and Jaskier meets his gaze in the dim light, the bleariness in his eyes completely gone.

Please, he wants to say. The word gets interrupted by the girl’s writhing.

Jaskier takes over Ciri’s hand, despite her reluctance to let go of Geralt. She clings to him during bad dreams, even when she can’t properly wake up, but the witcher knows it’s important not to touch either of them right now. The wolf medallion vibrates more as the empath works, calming her through the touch.

“It’s okay…” Geralt murmurs helplessly to the girl still asleep. “It’s okay, cub. We are here.”

The empty space around Geralt is excruciating. Under the clear night sky, his witcher senses allow him to see the two of them basked in the silver moonlight—Jaskier kneeling at Ciri’s side, one hand clasped around her wrist and the other carding through her curls. The girl’s pained expression eases slowly.

“Oh… Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” Jaskier shushes her, the flow of chaos buzzing in the air. “Let me take your fear away, all right? Don’t fight me. Let me in, so you won’t be scared anymore…”

The bard continues to murmur sweet nothings to the girl, easing her resistance to his empathetic powers. At this point, Jaskier’s magic is like a second layer of skin to Geralt, gentle and warm and weaving around their hearts. Even when it’s not directly used on him, he feels somehow pulled to their connection.

To Jaskier and Ciri.

His empath bard and his child surprise.

Two halves of his world.

Jaskier’s eyes are closed to concentration, taming the waves of Ciri’s distress. The action exerts him, Geralt can tell from his elevated heartbeat and the slight slump in his shoulders. The witcher catches himself before he reaches out subconsciously. The gnawing urge to help almost makes him scowl in frustration.

Inaction has never been Geralt’s strong suit.

Finally, finally, Ciri’s eyes flutter open. She’s holding back the tears, as always, even when she’s confused from these dreams, even when she’s reliving her past and desperately searching for her family in the present.

“Geralt?”

Her voice is so small and he has to lean in to hear.

A relieved sigh escapes Jaskier’s lips as he lets go of the girl’s hand. With the magic dissipating, so does the stench of fear. The air settles. As soon as the medallion stills, Geralt surges forward to put a hand on her arm, so she knows he’s here.

On Geralt’s periphery, he senses bard stand and walk to the other side of the campfire—the empath usually needs a moment to collect himself after absorbing someone’s emotions—but right now Geralt’s focus is on his child.

“It’s okay. You are safe, Ciri,” Geralt whispers.

“I dreamed—”

“You are not there anymore.”

“It was burning…I—there was fire… and the man.” She sniffles, stubbornly refusing to cry. His child is tough, probably too tough for her own good.

“It wasn’t real.”

“Because you found me?” There’s a sliver of doubt in her voice that Geralt wishes more than anything to remove.

“Because I found you, Ciri,” he reassures. She’ll need reminding tonight. “You are my destiny and more. I’m here so you’ll never have to be lost again.”

A tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. Geralt tucks away a strand of hair on her face and watches her eyelids droop heavily.

“I’m not. Not now that I’m awake.”

He returns the smile, although she can’t see it that well in the shadows. “That’s because of Jaskier.”

“Oh.” She searches for the bard. When Geralt looks back at the empath’s silhouette, he’s leaning against a tree, a few paces away from camp. “Thank you, Jaskier. Again,” she says.

“Of course, princess,” Jaskier says softly, “I know how scary nightmares can be, no matter how long it’s been. Those things may have happened a long time ago, but sometimes…they come back and haunt when you least expect it.” He pauses, looking to the distance for a moment. “I’d chase them away for you any time.”

She murmurs another thanks before her eyes close with exhaustion.

“Go back to sleep,” Geralt tucks Ciri’s blanket in, before taking her hand again, his thumb tracing a little circle on her skin. “Sleep, cub. We’ll be here. Both of us.”

It doesn’t take long for her to fall into a deep slumber, peacefully this time. Geralt sits next to her for a while longer just to be sure. When he finally leaves Ciri’s side to see to his bard, Jaskier is still standing with his back against the tree. He seems to be miles away, his expression hidden in the shadows, distant and inscrutable.

“Jask?” They are far enough from the girl but Geralt keeps his voice low.

With a surprised gasp, the bard notices him approaching and almost flinches. “Don’t—”

“Don’t touch you, I know.”

Jaskier rests his head on the tree bark. “Just for now.”

Geralt’s fists clench and unclench at his sides. Using those powers takes a lot out of Jaskier, and it leaves him unbalanced. The empath is so wary of hurting him by accident when he’s like this, with raw energy still rippling under his skin.

But in truth, Geralt doesn’t care. He wishes Jaskier could let him in, let him share the burden. Right now, with the space between them, he’ll have to rely on words instead of action.

It really isn’t his strong suit.

“Another nightmare… ” he decides to distract the bard while he recovers. “It’s been too long since Ciri had an episode. I thought it was all over.”

“Time doesn’t heal all wounds, Geralt,” Jaskier breathes. “We should all know better.”

Geralt frowns at the haunted look on his bard’s face. The tips of his fingers reach forward again, but he quickly hides the movement by crossing his arms before his chest.

“You sound like you are speaking from experience, Jask.”

“Do I?”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s stomach turns at the way Jaskier speaks about the girl’s trauma. “You know if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Jaskier squirms, chewing on his lower lip. Now he’s truly nervous, tense even. The witcher sees the way his posture stiffens and quickly adds, “Or not. Uh—it’s okay if you don’t—"

“No,” Jaskier interrupts him, shaking his head, “No, I want to tell you. I should tell you everything, at this point.”

Silence hangs between them as the bard adjusts his breathing. In and out, like he would before a performance.

“Years ago, when you first identified my powers” Jaskier chooses his words cautiously, the moon shining in his eyes. “I asked if you would use silver on me.”

Geralt’s heart sinks. “I would never, Jaskier. I—How could you ever think that?”

“Oh, relax, my love. I know.” the bard chuckles tightly. “Even back then, I knew you to be a decent man under all the gruffness. You wouldn’t even harm those confused monsters who drifted to human territory on accident, remember? You claimed that your life was just coin and contracts, but to me, it was clear that you were so much more.”

“You are not a monster,” Geralt argues.

“No, but someone else might think differently.”

The leaves rustle in the breeze, the air cooling as the night stretches on. Without the blanket, Jaskier shivers with only a thin chemise on his back. Geralt’s body gravitates toward him of its own volition. Fuck it, if he can just hold Jaskier right now…

“I was thirteen.” The bard is lost in memory. “This man, a magic user, came to our door. It was just me and my mother. He somehow knew about our identities and asked for her help. You see, she had been keeping it a secret for so long, so she couldn’t trust this man, this mage, who somehow just knew that we were empaths.”

He lets out a shuddering breath before continuing.

“His request was… weird. Something about a king or a royal court. I remember thinking that whatever he said sounded so sinister, it couldn’t have been any good. Mum sent him away on the spot, but afterwards she got so scared, like he’d come back again or something. That night, she barred the door and told me to hide in a storage chest. I refused, so she made me. She kept me obedient the entire time.”

Geralt frowns. “Her powers were the same as yours?”

“Stronger.” Jaskier starts pacing, a few twigs snapping under his feet. “She didn’t need contact to manipulate someone’s emotions like me, and she could influence many at the same time. I’m not as powerful—my father was human.”

“What happened next?” Somehow, Geralt knows the story will not end well. A mage usually means trouble. Or in this case, the shadow hidden behind Jaskier’s bright smiles and chirpy songs.

“She kept me calm the whole night, even when she wasn’t with me, but I could feel her fear. It’s was like an undercurrent beneath my skin. I could feel her emotions change. Then I heard the sound of fighting, but I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t go and help her…”

The salty tang of tears assaults Geralt’s nose, but they don’t fall. Jaskier looks up to the sky to hold back the grief that makes his hands tremble.

“Everything got fuzzy after that, but I still remember the pain and the despair. It was like a part of me was hurting with her. Part of me still does, during some nights.” Jaskier closes his eyes in agony. “When I got out the next morning, no one was there. Our home was wrecked, ruined. There was… There was so much blood, Geralt. I—I couldn’t…”

“Oh, Jaskier.” Geralt watches as Jaskier’s shoulders shake, whimpers choking in his throat. Under the night sky, the bard retreats into himself, making his frame look so much smaller. He sways a little and Geralt extends his hands again, hovering by his elbow. “Can I please touch you now?” he pleads.

With a sniffle, the bard composes himself. He flexes his hands to see if his magic is in check. “I think so, yes—oh.”

Geralt pulls Jaskier in for the tightest hug, his arms wrapping around the bard’s frame protectively. Through the thin fabric of the shirt, he can feel another shiver running down Jaskier’s spine, so he rubs small circles into his back to get some heat back in.

He breathes in Jaskier’s scent, not knowing if the lingering stench of fear is from Ciri or the bard.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jask…” Geralt keeps murmuring into the soft hair by Jaskier’s temple. Gradually, the bard sags against his shoulder, letting himself be soothed and supported. Geralt then places his lips to the skin under Jaskier’s ear, and then his cheek, his chin, all the while holding him impossibly close. He’s ready to help the empath restore his energy with all the brimming love in his chest. “Do you want me to…”

“No,” the bard shakes his head. “I’m good. For now.”

They stand there for so long, swaying gently while the world sleeps, before the bard speaks up again.

“I looked for her, and him, at so many courts.” Jaskier’s slightly colder fingers rest on the nape of Geralt’s neck, buried into the hair there. “No mage fit his description. No trace of her either. I think that deep down, I already knew that she was gone, even back then. Otherwise, I would have felt her in there somehow. No matter how far away she was, but all I had was just this emptiness. I was alone since then.”

“You are not. Not anymore.”

“No,” Jaskier pulls away, the tears have dried. Geralt brings the pad of his thumb to trace those streaks anyway. Under his touch, Jaskier smiles. “You see, back in Posada, I met this witcher, a dashing and heroic one. He fell for me so hard that he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving without me, so he begged me to become his travel companion.”

“And you agreed?” Geralt chuckles.

“Not at first, but he wore me down eventually.”

The bard is the most ridiculous man Geralt knows, and yet here they are. Shaking his head in amusement, the witcher steers his bard back to their bedrolls. As they settle back into their usual position, Geralt can’t help but pull him closer, making sure they are touching from head to toe.

The cover sets heavily over Jaskier's body, slowly warming up his skin. His heart beats against Geralt’s ribcage steadily, showing with solid proof that the empath has survived those horrors.

“I found you too, Jask,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss between Jaskier’s brows.

“Good.” The bard's reply is muffled by Geralt's skin. Not far from them, Ciri is still breathing evenly, sound asleep. Geralt has everyone he needs to protect right here with him, tucked away from their separate demons.

And yet, his mind drifts to Jaskier's story. It’s a tragedy with no end and no closure. There was never a body to bury, no vengeance to seek either.

Somehow, he doubts that an unfinished story will stay unfinished.

---

Tagging: @rockysstupidity​ @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses​ @mothmanismyuncle​ @theultimatenerdd​ @percy-jackson-is-sexy-​

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[fieryghxul]

Margaritas, reunions and confessions. [a.h.]

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Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Warning(s): fem!reader – dom!hotch (well i tried) – last season’s spoilers – drinking – cursing – smut –  unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it tho) – oral sex (fem receiving) – slight chocking – a bit fluff at the end.

A/N: hello everyone! this is super random but i came up with this in the middle of the night and i couldn't shake the idea out of my head. i am not a writer and english is not my first language so if there’s any mistake, i apologize in advance. also, this is my first hotch smut so i hope it’s good. enjoy!

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[March 14th, 2020. 8:30 pm.]

“I have to go but promise me that you’re going to stop thinking about work and that you’re going to have fun these days.” You heard the pleading voice of Penelope Garcia on the phone as you walked out of the bathroom.

“I promise. I love you and I’ll see you when I get back.” You smiled and you knew that she was smiling too.

“It’s a date, angel. Love you more.” And with that, the line went silent.

You put your cell phone aside and took a look at the open suitcases on the bed. You didn't have anything planned but you knew you have to go out to clear your head and relax, things at work have been very stressful lately so when Prentiss told the team about taking some vacation time, you didn't hesitate to get a ticket and get on the first plane you found.

And that's why you were currently in a hotel room in Santorini, Greece. Yes, it seems like a lot, but nothing you can't afford.

A few minutes later, you finished applying some mascara and lip gloss, and took a few steps back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The navy-blue self-tie slit dress hugged every curve of your body perfectly; you paired it with a pair of black heels and a black jacket, just in case it gets cold at night. After taking one last look and smiling slightly at the reflection, you turned to grab your bag and left the room, hoping to have a good night once you were out of the hotel.

                                                       ▪ ▪ ▪

People flooded the streets and it was understandable, the night was really beautiful, there was a light breeze and the full moon was perfectly reflected in the sea. You have been walking for almost 2 hours, taking photos of almost everything and enjoying the night until you came across a bar, the word "cocktail" in the name of the place definitely caught your attention so you didn't think twice before walking into the place.

You walked to the bar and waited for the bartender to come up to you. While you were waiting, you could feel the back of your neck burning, someone was watching you but you didn’t want to deal with anyone yet, so you just ignored it, concentrating on reading the menu even though you already knew what you were going to order.

“Good evening, ma'am. Are you ready to order?” You look up from the menu, a brunette in her 20s is at the other side of the bar was smiling at you.

“Uh, yes, a margarita would be fine.” You ordered, mirroring her smile, and the girl gave you a little nod before walking away.

In the meantime you took your phone out of your bag and opened the ‘bau ladies’ group chat to send one or two of the photos you took a few hours ago with a “next time, i’m bringing all of your cute asses with me.” below them.

JJ was the first to reply, “oh my god, it’s gorgeous!”

Followed by Emily’s “look at that and some of us are still doing paperwork :( get drunk on my behalf please.”

You chuckled under your breath at her text and the margarita arrives just in time, “i’m on it, boss ;) isn't it a little late to be doing paperwork?"

Penelope replies next, “paperwork hahaha what a weird way to spell tara’s name“ and two “PENELOPE!” appear automatically in chat.

“you two are so obvious and spencer owns me 20 now.” You hit the send button before graving the margarita, taking a few sips of it. It takes about 3 minutes for your phone to vibrate again and you were about to answered but you are interrupted by the bartender.

“From the man at that table, ma'am.” She says placing another margarita in front of you and discreetly pointing at one of the tables that were on the patio of the place, you turned around but the only thing you see from the bar is his back. “Don’t worry; it doesn’t have anything weird on it.”

“Thank you...” The bartender walks away again and you stare at the drink, debating for a moment about whether or not to go and face the mysterious man. Fuck it. You decided before putting you phone back in your bag, forgetting about the messages and graving that and the drink before making your way to the table.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat once you reached said table, "can I seat here or are you waiting for someone?"

“Please.” He murmur in a low voice while gesturing toward the empty chair, indicating that you can sit down and a strange feeling of familiarity floods your body at that gesture. You shock your head trying to ignore that before placing your bag aside and sitting down in front of the man.

“I just wanted to thank you for the—“

The words got stuck on your throat and the world seemed to have stopped when you finally laid your eyes on the suited man that you thought you'd never see again.

Holy shit.

You stood still, a part of you fearing that if you moved he might disappear. Your face probably showing clear signs of confusion and shock as Aaron Hotchner sit right there in front of you.

He still looked serious and intimidating, his gaze reimaging cold to those who didn't know him and you remember all of those times you teased him about being a robot, there were times when you actually managed to make him laugh.

Yet at the same time there was something different about him. There was a different glow around him, he seems more relaxed and you could see it in his expressions, even in his posture.

“Hello, Y/N.” Hotchner said, voice still low but strong enough to bring you back to the present.

“Hey.” You said, still processing the fact that he was here with you and in the most unexpected place. “I, uh, it’s been a long time.”

“Almost 3 years.” He said before taking a sip of the glass that rested on his hand, you assumed that it was scotch.

3 years in 6 months, 13 days, 1 hour and 65 seconds. Give it or take.

“Almost, yeah… so what are you doing here?” You asked, “I mean, you were more a city type of guy.”

“I still am, Y/N, but Jack and Jessica insisted on me going on a little vacation because apparently it’s been a while since I had some ‘me-time’.”

Your face light up a bit at the mention of the kid, Hotch noticed it. “How’s Jack? I can barely remember when the last time I saw him was was but he must be so big now.”

“He’s 14 and almost as tall as me.” A smile appeared on Hotch's face, he didn't used to smile a lot and you thought it was a bit normal considering the work that you two shared, but those times that he did you used to felt butterflies in your stomach. Still do apparently. “What about you? What are you doing here? I mean, you were more a city type of girl.”

You chuckled softly when you heard him repeating your words and you shrugged slightly, “I'm having some vacation time, it's rare to have free time at the BAU, you know? So when you do, you take it without thinking twice.”

“How’s the team doing?”

“Good. We're working on some things, going through a few changes, the usual I guess.” This time it was you who drank, taking a long sip of the margarita that was still in your hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you want to hear me talk about it?”

“Of course, unless, do you have somewhere else to be, Y/N?”

“Not anymore. We might need a few more of this though.” You pointed to the drinks on the table and flashing him a smile, catching a glimpse of his before calling the bartender and ordering another round of drinks.

And then you started talking, Hotch listening carefully to every word that came out of your mouth. You started with the cult that kidnapped Spencer and Garcia and then launching into the saga of the Everett Lynch a.k.a "The Chameleon", you mentioned how Emily is now shortlisted to be the next FBI director and how she would name JJ as the next unit chief of BAU unit, but that remains to be seen; you also talked about Garcia leaving the team to work in Silicon Valley and Hotch noticed the sad tone in your voice when you mentioned that but in part he was happy that everyone was moving forward with their lives, making new decisions and following different paths. You continued with Spencer being a consultant and teaching at the same time and finished with Rossi getting married again then talking about retirement but not fully doing it.

“That’s because Rossi’s never going to retired.” You and Hotch said in unison, laughing after noticing that.

“A lot of things had happened then.” He said, not very surprise and titling his head to one side, you nodded mutely. “But you forgot of someone, Y/N.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you. What about you? How are you?” He asked, his tone of voice changing to a concerned one.

“Oh… I, uh, I’m good.” You began but more hesitant this time, “I will never get used to the changes but its part of life so I just have to suck it up and live with it. I don’t have an outer motive yet so I'm not leaving the BAU, that's for sure. I always knew that that's where I belong and I can’t even bring myself to think about other options.”

“You have always been an important asset to the team, Y/N. The BAU is still lucky to have you.” Hotch said, still sounded like the boss but you didn’t comment anything out loud about it. Instead, you smiled kindly at him and both went silent after that, staring at each other every now and then and finishing the rest of your drinks. It was a comfortable and familiar silence, one of the many that you two used to share while working together in the office or in the long nights in the jet after finishing a case.

Your gaze swept over the bar, noticing the few people that was still there and the employees staring to clean up the place. You took at deep breath, pulling out your wallet.

“Well, Hotch, this was fun. Unexpected but fun.” You left some money under your empty cup, paying for your part of the drinks and Hotch did the same thing. “I should get going now, so—“

“Let me walk you over to your hotel.” He cut you off, grabbing his blazer from the chair and turning to look at you.

“Hotch you don’t ha—“

“Please, Y/N. I insist.” He said and his voice serious once again, just like when he used to get too bossy with the team but with a smile that contradicted that tone and you couldn’t say “no” to that.

“Alright, Sir. Let’s go.”

You grabbed your things and started walking out of the bar, Hotchner walking behind you.

                                                          ▪ ▪ ▪

The walk back to the hotel was shorter than you thought; maybe it was because you were so focused on Hotchner and the small talk that you stopped paying attention to your surroundings.

“Thank you, Aaron.” You murmur while grabbing the room key from you bag, “But you didn’t have to come up here though.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

You could tell he wanted to say something, but he didn't dare to do it and it doesn't feel good to pressure him, so you settled for just smiling at him.

And in that moment, standing in outside of you room and looking closely at him, you realized how much you missed him. You didn’t admitted that out loud after he left the BAU, you couldn’t do it because you also never fully admitted your feeling for him. Partially it was your fault, feelings were never your thing and you were afraid of what might happen if you confronted him about it so looking for excuses and reasons to not doing it always seemed easier.

For a while you truly did believed that it was just a stupid crush on your boss, something temporary, until the days turned into weeks and then months, years even, but then… he was gone.

You couldn’t really blame him for that though; he had a good reason for leaving so suddenly.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Hotch finally mumbled.

You looked at him in confusion, “For what?”

“Leaving.”

“You did it to protect Jack; it was the right thing to do.” You reassure him with a smile, you unconsciously took his hand in yours. He didn’t pull away. “Don’t ever apologize for keeping your son safe, Hotch.”

“I know, choosing to be a full time dad to Jack is something I do not regret. It was something that we both needed it, especially after everything that happened with Haley.” You gulped at the mention of the name, remembering how devastated he was after her death. He took a deep breath, “But what I am trying to say is that I am sorry I didn't came back to you or the team, I should at least have called to let you know that we were fine but I got so caught up with the mundane life that it was a little too late by the time I realized about everything I left behind.”

To you.

Those two little words echoed in your head as you look at those chocolate eyes that used to drive you crazy without knowing it. You noticed that he was even closer now, slightly towering over you. It’s now or never, Y/N. You thought to yourself before speaking.

“I waited for you. I never told anyone but for a whole I waited for you to come back, hoping one day to see your demanding self in an expensive suit walking through the BAU doors again but deep down I knew that eventually I had to let you go.” You let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding until now and smiled sadly, “That was easier said than done considering that I never stopped thing about it, about you. Because the true is that I loved you, Aaron. Maybe I still fucking do… but I doubt that this makes any difference now because maybe you never saw me in the same way that I saw you or just because it’s a little too late now.”

You finished and Hotch frowned, probably processing what you just admitted to him. He was silent for a few more seconds and you took it as your cue, letting go of his hand and turning around to open the door of you room. “I had an amazing night, thank you. See you around.”

But before you could even step foot in the room, you felt his hand grabbing your wrist and your chest hitting his. The next thing you knew after that was that his lips were on yours.

Aaron Hotchner was fucking kissing you after admitting your feelings for him.

He pulled away before you could react properly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours; this time he looked at you in a way that you had only fantasized about until now, there was love and lust on them and you could feel it, just all those feelings that you tried so hard to keep locked in the deepest part of you.

And that's all you needed before grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and kissing him again, in a matter of seconds you two were inside the room. His lips were warm and the kiss quickly turned into a desperate one once the door was locked behind you, you could already feel yourself melting in his arms.

You didn’t even realize how it happened, but in one quick moment you were being totally pinned against the door with Aaron holding you by your thighs as your legs were wrapped around his waist. The position was now lifting your short dress, leaving your thighs even more naked but you didn't mind considering that now you could perfectly feel Aaron's hand caressing your hot skin. You move your hands from his shoulders to his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt and stripping him off it, dropping the piece of clothing somewhere in the room. As you were doing that, he broke the kiss and moved his lips to your neck, nipping and teasing the area just under your ear, turning you into a moaning mess almost immediately. The sounds being like music to his ears.

“Aaron , please.“ You moaned, this was good but you need it more. You needed him.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He asks, slightly biting the skin of your neck and you bite your bottom lip.

“Please, Sir. Fuck me.” You let out, noticing a sparkle in his eyes that you've never seen before and that only turned you on even more.

“Since you ask so nicely…” He said before walking to the other side of the room where the was a big bed in the center of it, Aaron kissed you lips and put you down in front of him, his hands moving to the zipper of your dress. “Are you sure about this, Y/N?”

“You’re kidding, right?” You asked and Aaron stares deeply at you, the sudden seriousness on his eyes making you gulp. You nodded.

“Words, Y/N. I need words.”

“I’m sure of this, yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Fuck, he was hot.

“Yes, sir.”

He bent down, his hands working on your zipper as he whisper “Good girl.” in your ear and you bite your lip once more, muffling down a moan.

He finally pulled down your dress, tossing it onto the floor completely and leaving you with only your red lace underwear; you weren't wearing a bra tonight, so you were much more exposed to him than you thought. He took one really good look at you before throwing you onto the bed, knocking the breath out of your lungs. Guess that we’re done playing around.

He kneels down on the bed, moving your legs with his knees and positioning himself between them. His hands are caressing your legs again, making their way up to the sides of your body and he leans in, kissing you again, your hands flew up to grab his hair, eagerly responding the kiss. You didn’t care how needy you seem right now, you’ve been waiting year for this, fantasizing about it, and now you had it, not really knowing for how long and that only gave you more reasons to enjoy every second of it.

“You know?,” Aaron began, his lips leaving yours and making his way down your neck, placing kisses all over your skin, “if I had know about how much you wanted me, I’ve would done something about it earlier.”

“Yeah?” You asked, arching your back as he bites one of your nipples gently, his other hand working on the other one.

“I would've pinned you down on my desk and take you right there on the office, baby. Not caring about anyone who could hear us.” He casually said, like he thought about it before and you moaned. You definitely thought about that particular situation too.

When he finally reached the place where you needed the most, he stopped and you were about to complain but Aaron shut you up by grabbing your ankles and yanking you down the end of the bed. He kneels again, parting your legs a bit more, placing one of your legs over his broad shoulders and kissing you inner thighs, slowly making his way to your soaked panties.

“I barely touch you and you’re so wet for me already?” Hotchner asked teasingly, rubbing circles with his thumb on your clit but over the fabric before taking a hold of them and ripping them out. And with no more words, Hotch held both your legs open and buried his face between them, making you moan in a matter of seconds.

He swept his tongue over you pussy swiftly, tasting my arousal first and groaning again your skin. A shiver ran through you as he stared circling your clit with his tongue and then moving down between your folds before going up again, alternating his speed and pressure.

When you thought that it couldn’t get better, Aaron proved you wrong by teasing your entrance with one of his finger and looking up at you, locking his eyes with yours. He wanted to see your reaction. You try to maintain the eye contact as he slowly started pumping his finger in and out of you, curling them an hitting the right spot, a string of cursings leaving your mouth.

It didn’t take much for your legs to start shaking around his head, the knot forming on your lower stomach.

“I’m- fuck, I’m close.” You breathed betweens moans and just when you were about to reach your high, he pulled away.

“Hold that thought, sweetheart.” He shortly kissed your mouth and you tasted yourself in his before he got up off bed, his hands immediately went to unbuckle his belt and now you took your time to watch him. From his messy hair, to the red marks on his shoulders caused by your heels -oops- and then stopped at the large bulge formed in his pants, you groaned at the sight of that.

Fuck, he is big. God, if you weren't so desperate to feel him inside you, you wouldn't hesitate to drop on your knees and start sucking him.

“Do you like what you see, sweetheart?” He asked with a smirk on his face while taking off the rest of his clothes.

“Just fuck me already, please.” You begged and he positioned himself between your legs again, but he was hesitant. “Hotch?”

“I don’t have condom on me and I doubt that you have one, Y/N. I’m clean but if you—”

“I’m clean too and on the pill so don’t worry.” You smiled at him and gave a little nod.

And apparently he was as desperate as you because at all at once, Hotch took grip of your hips and pushed inside you. You immediately arched your back, moaning loudly in both pain and pleasure, your hands grabbing the sheets at your side. You were surprise that you didn’t ripped them apart yet.

“Fuck, Hotchner.” You screamed and he didn’t move for a few seconds, letting you adjust to his size. He really is big.

“You’re so thigh, baby.” He moaned in your ear, the raspy voice sending shocks straight to your core. He was capable of making you cum by just talking.

That’s how much power he had.

And then he finally started moving, pounding in and out of you slowly at first and working his way up, picking up a pace that had you both groaning and moaning.

“F-fuck, Y/N. I love hearing you scream my name.” His lips attacked your neck again and you threw your head back against the pillows, giving him all the space that he needed to play with your neck. And he took this as a perfect opportunity to sneak his hand around it, squeezing under your jaw around enough for your eyes to roll back in total pleasure as you instinctively wrapped your finger around his wrist, holding him in place. You didn’t expect him to be into chocking but you were definitely not against it.

“Harder, S-sir. Please.”

“You’re taking it so good, just like I expected it.” He growled, pulling away enough to look at the whimpering mess that you were right now, his hand never leaving your neck as he pounded even harder into you with every word. “Calling me ‘sir’ and everything, I didn’t even had to ask you to do that. You’re such a slutty responsive whore for me, aren’t you Y/N?”

The sudden dirty words coming out of your ex-boss’s mouth did nothing but to turn you on even more, if that was possible at this point. You weren’t able to form a proper sentence so you limited to nodding and moaning his name. He didn’t like that.

“I asked you a fucking question, sweetheart, answered it.”

“Y-yes, I am, S-sir.” You chocked, the knot on your stomach forming once more and by the way that his pace flickered you knew that he was close too. “I’m close, Aaron.”

“Then cum for me, baby.” He commanded, continuing his thrusts and you were already oversensitive from his earlier work so it didn’t took you long before you started clenching around him.

“Fuck, Aaron.”

“Say it louder, Y/N.”

“Aaron!” He bottom out inside of you again and you moaned loudly one last time as your body reached its limit, hitting your climax with every nerve in you tired body.

“That’s a good girl.” He said between moans, his dick twitching softly as he release himself inside of you with one last and hard thrust.

He let go of your throat but didn’t’ pull out immediately after that. His breathing was a little erratic, his lips were red and swollen, and there was a thin layer of sweat all over his body. He looked disturbingly hot.

Of course he did. He’s Aaron fucking Hotchner.

It was as if these last 3 years had never existed.

Neither of you said a word as he slowly got up and walked into the bathroom of the room to grabbed a wet towel to clean you up, doing the same thing on him before putting back his boxers, you didn’t have the strength to grab your clothes so you just put the sheets of the bed on top of you, covering you nudity.

“Oh, sp now you’re shy?” He snorted, chuckling softly and you smiled.

“Shut up and come here.” You patted the bed and he didn’t hesitate on laying next to you, wrapping his arms around you. You felt safe, like there’s was nowhere else you rather be in that moment.

“Thank you.” He whispered after a moment breaking the silence, his face resting on your shoulder.

“For what?”

“For all of… that.”

“You’ve always have such a ways with words, Hotch.” You chuckled as you looked down at him. “Thank you for ordering my margarita in the first place.”

“It was a pleasure.”

“It really was, wasn’t it?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him in a playful way.

“How long are you staying here, Y/N?” He finally asked and you let out a tiny sigh at the question.

You knew you weren't here for a long vacation and neither was Aaron, you two have your lives outside this room , but being here now felt so good and peaceful. So… right. This, also, was probably a one-time thing, something that was destined to happen eventually, no matter how long it took.

But you didn’t want- no, you couldn’t face the fact that you may have to let him go again. Especially not after what just happened. I mean, how could you?

And little did you know that Aaron was feeling the exact same thing.

“Enough not to have to worry about it right now.” You answered with a shrug while your fingertips trace invisible circles on his back.

“Good. I can live with that, for now at least.” And then he broke the comfortable embrace by getting up and out of the bed, you furrowed you eyebrows and he extended on his hands towards you, “Come on, let’s take a shower so we can sleep properly.”

“Yes, sir.” You took his hand, getting up with his help and trying your best not to limp as you made your way to the bathroom, “By the way, where are you staying while you’re here?”

He turned around at the question, pulling you closer to him and softly kissing your lips before using a more serious tone to say, “In the room above this one.”

Of course he was. You thought while you watched as he began to prepare the bath for the both of you.

Funny how destiny works sometimes.