#she gave me her card to “call her when I have an interview so we can practice it beforehand”

[seonghwasblr]

I talked to a job consulent the other day, and she was so great. I am so annoyed I didn't get to talk to her before now.. She was so much more helpful than any of the other ones I've talked to lol

[sebscore]

THE PRIZE THAT KEEPS ON GIVING 

pairings: jenson button x driver!reader / lewis hamilton x driver!reader / susie wolff x driver!reader / toto wolff x driver!reader / sebastian vettel x driver!reader / mick schumacher x driver!reader / kimi raikkonen x driver!reader

warnings: talk about getting drunk. a drunk kimi. swearing. the host is made up cause I couldn't find the name of the person that actually does it lol. 

author's note: idk how these award ceremonies go but then again all of this is fiction so just be delulu with me :) also, not me posting fics about the fia gala consecutively.

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''Welcome our rookie of the year, Y/N Y/L.'' The host called her up on the stage, the other attendees clapping for her as she got up from her seat. 

It hadn't been her first time on the FIA Prize Giving stage, having collected her Formula 3 European Championship trophy two years earlier. Despite having done this before, the young woman felt nervous and uncomfortable with all the eyes on her. 

She thanked the person giving her the award, anxiously smiling at the audience. Y/N found the comforting eyes of Susie in the crowd, the older woman giving her a supportive nod. 

''Y/N, thank you for being here and congratulations on being named the FIA Rookie of the Year.'' David praised her, a semi-genuine smile on his face. 

She bowed her head. ''Thank you so much.'' 

''You had a very great year, a podium and P7 in the championship standing- best of the midfield- has everything sunken in yet?'' He asked, holding the microphone up to her mouth . 

''It's really crazy, to be honest. You know, I was already happy with just scoring points in Australia, but to, uh, have made it on the podium as well… just crazy- I'm, uh, very happy with how my first season went.'' She answered, stuttering over her words a few times. 

David nodded along to her words, subtly taking a look at his notes. ''Barely two weeks ago, you shared your first podium with Lewis and Sebastian in Abu Dhabi,'' the host pointed at the two men in the audience, the both of them caught off guard by the sudden mention of their names, ''they're the World Champion and Vice-Champion of this season, how did it feel to share the podium with them?'' 

''Uh, you know- pretty great,'' her slow response garnered some chuckles from the crowd, ''they're legends of our sport so I felt very honoured to have been up there with them, especially to end the season.'' Y/N gave herself an encouraging nod at the end of her response. 

''You said after the race that the two of them were your childhood idols, and they have also given you several praises throughout the season, but there is also another person you looked up to as a child, right?'' The rookie could feel there was something coming up as David looked at her with a smirk on his face, but she was clueless as to what it was. 

Her confused face amused all of the attendees, a chorus of laughter being heard and making her even more nervous. ''Oh- I don't like that look on your face.'' She joked, the laughter growing at her response. 

''Well, Y/N- a certain someone might have informed us about an interview you did about 7 years ago when you were 11 years-old,'' David grinned, Y/N giving him a puzzled look, ''in which you said and I quote: 'I want to become a Formula 1 driver, win a World Championship and marry Jenson Button.' Does that ring any bells?'' 

As soon as the last words were said, Y/N turned her back to the audience and covered her gaping mouth, shocked they would bring this up after all the time that had passed. 

All of the attendees were having the time of their life as they saw the obvious embarrassment on the girl's face despite her trying to cover it up. 

Y/N almost tried to make a run for it, but was stopped by David who held onto her arm. ''You're not going anywhere, we're not done yet.'' He snickered, taking another look at his cards. 

''Unfortunately, Jenson is not here tonight, but we do have something else for you.'' David smirked, motioning his arm to the projector behind them- the face of Jenson appearing on the big screen. 

''Hello, everyone! I couldn't be there due to other engagements, but I just wanted to congratulate Y/N on her wonderful rookie season and for being awarded 'Rookie of the Year' tonight,'' Jenson's self-made video played, Y/N watching in shock that this was actually happening. 

''I was made aware of your aspirations to marry me,'' she could see him holding back a huge grin, ''unfortunately, I'm not single so I'm afraid that I'll have to turn the offer down, but I'm very flattered by your confidence and determination of your 11 year-old self.'' Jenson laughed, his infamous smile making an appearance. 

''Anyway- I wish you good luck for the next season and I'm sure it will be even better than this one! Again, congratulations and I hope you enjoy your evening! Bye bye!'' He bids her goodbye and the screen goes back to black. 

Y/N slowly turns back around, her perplexed expression entertaining everyone in the crowd. She was feeling a mix of emotions; disbelief, happiness and also humiliation. 

''You like the surprise, Y/N?'' David asked her, containing himself from bursting out in laughter. 

He held the mic up to her face, but for several moments she didn't say anything, staring mindlessly at nothing. ''I'm, uh, well, that was, uh,'' she stumbled over her words, trying not to curse as it was still a formal event. 

''She's speechless, ladies and gentlemen.'' David interrupted her, making everyone laugh again. ''You didn't expect that, did you?'' 

''No, I did not expect that, David.'' Y/N answers more clearly, her blunt tone resulting in some loud cackles being heard- she swore she recognized Lewis among them. 

''Alright- well, we're going to round it up here, but you're going to celebrate your season well tonight?'' He finished the interview with his last question. 

The young woman nodded her head. ''Yeah, I'm gonna drink all night to forget this.'' She responded, another symphony of laughter and snickering being heard through the large space. 

''That's really great, Y/N- everyone, a round of applause for our Rookie of the Year, Y/N Y/L!'' The female driver walked as quickly as she could in heels off the stage, making her way back to her table.

Since she was still part of the Mercedes Junior Program, she had been seated with Susie, Toto and Lewis, along with a bunch of other Mercedes employees. 

''You've really brightened the place up, Y/N.'' Susie told her the moment she sat down on her chair, a big smile on her face. 

She jokingly rolled her eyes at the older woman, staring down at her own hands in her lap. A hand tapping her arm made her look up. ''Here,'' Lewis handed her a glass of what seemed to be champagne, ''I think you can use this.'' He sheepishly smiled. 

''I've never felt this embarrassed in my life.'' She took the glass and gulped it down in one go, loudly placing the empty glass back down on the table. 

''Don't drink too fast!'' Toto scolded her, not coming across as stern since he was laughing. ''You don't want to end up like Kimi over there.'' The Team Principal pointed at the Ferrari table where a drunk Kimi Raikkonen was trying to put Sebastian in a headlock. 

''It's his Finnish blood.'' Y/N argued, filling up her glass again. 

''It was you, wasn't it?'' There could have been only one person that informed the host about Y/N's past infatuation with the British driver, and during the break she went over to his table and confronted him about it. 

Sebastian flinched at the sudden hand on his shoulder, but smiled as he took notice of who it was. Once he internalised her words, he feigned innocence. ''What do you mean? You think that I would tell anyone about Jenson?'' The teasing smirk of the Ferrari driver was one she wanted to slap from his face, but it was all in good fun. 

''Dude, that was so embarrassing!'' She slapped his arm, grabbing the attention of Hanna who sat next to him. ''Can you believe it, Hanna? I was mortified.'' Y/N turned towards the woman. 

''I knew it as soon as Jenson's face appeared, he was giggling like a schoolgirl.'' His partner nudged him with her elbow, Sebastian put his hands up in defeat. 

''Come on, Y/N- you have to admit it was a great surprise.'' A small sprinkle of doubt had planted itself in the back of his mind, maybe it wasn't a good idea after all and she would be upset with him. 

His panic of doubt was washed away as a genuine smile found its way to Y/N's face. ''It will be a nice story in a few years so thanks for that, I guess.'' Yes, she had felt incredibly ashamed, but she had also received a personal video message from her childhood crush so in her opinion, there was a good balance. 

''Uh, have you seen Mick? I haven't talked to him tonight.'' She asked the couple, wanting to check up on her friend. 

Hanna shook her head, while Sebastian pointed towards the door that led to the hallways. ''I think he went to the bathroom.'' He replied. 

''Thanks, I'll see you two later.'' Y/N bid them goodbye, smiling at both of them before disappearing into the hallways to find the young Schumacher. 

She waited against the wall across from the men's bathroom, her awkward stance must have made other people call her an idiot in their own minds. After a few minutes of looking like a weirdo, the German finally came out of the bathroom. 

''What the fuck were you doing in there?'' Y/N surprised him, he didn't expect to find her waiting for him. 

Mick took a deep breath to calm down, his friend had scared him good. ''Jesus Christ, what the fuck.'' His hand rested on his heart. 

''You can just call me Y/N, Mickie.'' She winked at him. 

'You idiot,'' he smiled, taking a step forward and pulling her in a quick hug, ''congrats on the award, by the way.'' 

''Thank you, I appreciate it.'' 

Mick chuckled. ''You know, I had totally forgotten about your crush on Jenson! It's been so long since I last heard about it.'' The German remembered all the times his friend would dream out loud about her 'future marriage' to the British driver. 

''I had forgotten about it too, until Seb decided I needed a good reminder.'' Y/N said, sarcastically making him laugh. 

The youngest Schumacher was about to reply, but was interrupted by a certain Ferrari driver. 

''Hey, Y/N! If you want to marry Jenson, you can marry Jenson! I'll be there to support you!'' Kimi wrapped his arms around Mick and Y/N's shoulders, holding them close to him. 

The young woman held in her laughter, simply patting his chest. ''Thanks, Kimi. I'll remember that.'' 

The Fin looked from her to Mick. ''Too bad, man! I know how much you like her!'' He ruffled the guy's hair, a sad expression on his face to convey his sympathy for Mick. 

Both youngsters widened their eyes, one in shock and the other in embarrassment. ''Okay- it was good to see you, Kimi!'' The Prema driver lightly pushed him away, his cheeks colouring red. 

''I can help you if- Hey, Jean!'' Kimi took notice of Jean Todt on the other side of the hallway and walked over there, leaving the two of them alone again. 

Y/N glanced at Mick who was avoiding her eyes. ''You want to tell me something, Schumacher?'' She smirked. 

''I think I need to go to the bathroom again.''

taglist :: @i0veless @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @alonsogirlie @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111 @valluvsu @thatsadsmallchild @babyyoda89 @milkbreadforlife @fxllfaiiry @hc-dutch @its-ash-not-grey @princessbetsy123 @mehrmonga @nyenye @screechingtrashkid @ahnneyong @holybatflapexpert @itsnotgray @beautycinders @rowansshit @uhhevie @revengze @nylaslife @majx00 @multi-universe21 @jaydensluv @isasalom @gentlemonsterjennie1 @appledashhh @breathinfive @lighttsoutlewis @champomiel @ooooohmicky @koufaxx @flannelforthetoads 

@mysticfalls01 @ghostcorazon @mango-bear @totally-random-person @youkissedareaderinthedark @phoenix-luv @hamilton-mount @calcaneous @aurora-maria @idkiwantchocolatee @anonymous-platypus1 

if you want to be added to the taglist, fill in the form !

[boldlyvoid]

Come Together

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Summary: Ever since the academy, Aaron and Y/N have been at each other's throats for a spot on the BAU. He got it, She didn't. Now they have to plan the Bureau's Holiday party together without killing each other.

Warnings: angst, fighting, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, Aaron had a crush on her while married. why he and haley broke up, miscarriage mentions, divorced Aaron, flirting, teasing, kissing, fingering, hate sex, p in v smut, rough sex, no condoms used

Word Count: 4.8k

Penelope is usually the one to plan holiday parties… but after last year's spiked punch— that ruined a lot of upper agents' sobriety, which wasn’t her fault at all, the director delegated to having two random people plan it together. He pulled names from a hat that just happened to be Aaron Hotchner and Y/N Y/L/N. 

She was happy to do it, and he was fine with doing it… they just weren’t happy about doing it together. The two agents couldn’t stand each other and it goes all the way back to being in the same year at the academy. 

They were tied for the top of the class, duking it out to be the chosen one for Agent Rossi’s new right-hand man. And of course, it went to a man. It didn’t matter to them that she was fantastic at what she did, or that her final score was 0.2% higher than his. He was a man so he got it. 

She got a job in CARD which, she liked, it was still an opportunity to solve cases and bring kids home to their parents… she just had to work with the BAU more than she liked and take orders from them. And then Rossi left, Gideon stepped down and Aaron Hotchner was the fucking Head of the BAU. 

She was taking orders from him. Him and his goon squad of pretty people he picked over her. 

She would’ve pushed everything aside and dealt with him, she would’ve mended things if he accepted her into the team. But he never did. After 5 applications and being looked over for everything while he hired younger and younger, she finally gave up and started to hate his guts even more. 

Now she’s in the elevator, pushing the button for floor 6 and shaking the thoughts of strangling him out of her head so she can deal with him for half an hour. He’s always so busy that she’s been waiting all week just to talk about this stupid fucking party, and the only time he has is at 8:30 pm on a Friday when she should be at home. 

She walks right into the bullpen, up the stairs and knocks on his door. “come in?” He calls. 

“Hey,” she says with a deep sigh. “Can we talk about the party?” 

“Mhm,” he nods, waving her in. “Come sit, I already have some ideas.” 

“Okay…” she sits down in front of him, ignoring all his plaques and accolades and staring down at her clipboard. “I called around and there are 3 places available that are big enough to hold us, on the 3rd Saturday of the month.” 

“Awesome, I already called a friend of mine with a Christmas tree farm and acquired 3 trees— Douglas furs, all pretty and big, we’ll just need a ceiling over 12 feet to house them,” he explains. 

“And who’s going to decorate them?” She asks. 

He shrugs, “We’ve got a big budget, we can hire someone to do it.” 

“Who did Penelope use?” 

“Herself,” he smiles that devilishly condescending smile. “I’m sure if we ask she’d want to help out again. She loves Christmas.” 

“Did you ever figure out who spiked the punch last year?” She asks, genuinely feeling sorry for Penelope. 

Penny was the only one on the team that she actually liked. 

He nods, “Dax Cooper up in counter-terrorism.” 

“Yeah, he’s an asshole.” 

“Worse than me?” He teases. “Seriously, when are you going to stop being mad at me?” 

“When you admit you hate me!” She fights back. “I did nothing to you. You’re the one who conspired with Dave and got hired here and then you purposely lost all my applications and never let me know why you wouldn’t even interview me.”

“I didn’t lose them, I put them to the side,” he shrugs. “You weren’t ready to be on our team.” 

“But the walking calculator and teen Mrs. USA are?” She laughs.

“Reid and JJ are wonderful assets,” he snaps, jaw tight and eyes full of fury. “This is why I don’t want you. You wouldn’t be a team player. Not until you get rid of the attitude and accept that this job is about more than numbers. Yes, they’re young, yes you beat me by a fraction of a percent, but that doesn’t mean you have what it takes to do what we do.” 

“I look at cases full of missing, dead and raped kids all day, how is that any different?” She honestly can’t believe it. 

“Because you look at a screen all day with facts and witness statements and I go out into the field and I talk to parents and I deal with the cops and I don’t start fights over petty bullshit,” he reminds her. “I have never called you names or signalled you out. All you do, every time we're on a scene together, is whisper and gossip and try to undermine me. You need to grow up.” 

She just shakes her head, holding in a comment that could hurt him because… and she hates to say it, but he’s right. “Whatever. Should I call one of these places and book it tomorrow or what?” 

“Do whatever you want, just give me the address so I can have the trees and decorations sent over,” he honestly doesn’t care. “I trust your judgement on a caterer, I’ll pick a band… what else would we need?” 

“Invitations, which I can handle,” she assures as she stands up to walk to his door. “I’ll cc you on everything and include the director for oversight. I’ll call you if I have questions.” 

“Y/N,” he calls out to her before she leaves. “I’m going to be looking for a new agent in a few months…” 

“And?” 

“If we can work this out by then… maybe things will be different when you apply this time?” He suggests, giving her innocent eyes and genuinely meaning it. 

“Okay.” 

—

“Did you see her last night?” Dave asks, walking right into Aaron's office with two coffees right at 8am. 

He nods, “I did… you don’t have any connections to a band I can book for Christmas, do you?” 

“The Jazz club might be able to lend us some members,” he suggests. “I’ll make a call… but I take it things went well?” 

“As well as they could go, she’s still so mad at me for getting this position over her,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know how to make her realize she just wasn’t ready. Our working together would’ve been awful. It would’ve—

“Ruined your marriage that just ended?” Dave teases. “I know you liked her, I saw the way you two looked at each other and I saw the teasing and the way you talked about her. She was more than a friend to you… I couldn’t have her on the team like that. I couldn’t see you go through what I did with Caroline.” 

“I hate thinking about how different things could’ve been if she was on the team though,” he shakes his head and stares off out the window. “We almost broke up back then, you know? We almost never had Jack…” 

“You know it’s perfectly normal for marriages not to work out, it doesn’t mean you loved her any less, it just wasn’t meant to be forever,” Dave reminds him. “You’re still friends, there’s no ill will. You never cheated, she didn’t either. You just grew apart. It happens.” 

“But now I’m single and I can pursue Y/N… but she hates me,” he sighs. “I don’t think she’ll ever stop hating me.” 

“Nasty hate sex is fun,” Dave teases, making them both laugh. “I’m serious… you wouldn’t believe the women I’ve—

“I know, actually,” Aaron shakes his head. “Strauss can’t look at you the same anymore.” 

“Hey… that wasn’t hate, it was just indifference,” he teases. 

“Whatever,” Aaron can’t help but smirk. “Can you work on the band for me?”

“I will, I’ll get them to throw in some love songs too,” Dave teases on his way out. 

This was going to be interesting. 

—

Two weeks of planning and emails blow by in the blink of an eye. 

He gets ready for the party early, having to be there to check things over and meet the band and shake hands with the higher-ups as they arrive. He has a nice suit on, a red tie for Christmas and dark green socks that no one will ever notice. But he wants to look nice. 

For her. 

He walks up to her where she’s hiding in the corner. Adorning the most stunning golden dress and holding her clipboard, making sure everything gets delivered and set up in time for the start time at 7. They still have 4 hours till then, but she’s an overachiever. And a worrier. She needed this to be perfect. 

She looked perfect. Like the 2000 Holiday Barbie brought to life. He’s absolutely astounded by her beauty he just stares for a moment before he says anything. 

“You know, you look very pretty today,” he compliments but she doesn’t take it that way. 

She looks at him like he just insulted her mother. “What?” 

“That dress, it looks nice on you,” he looks her up and down. Smiling like he has some tricks up his sleeve. “What? Can’t I think you look nice? Haven’t we spent enough time talking this last month to let me compliment you?” 

“Don’t you have a wife?” She asks, disgusted he’d hit on her. “And a kid?” 

“We got divorced back in April,” he shrugs. “And you say you want to be a profiler, yet you haven’t looked at my hands in months?” 

She looks now, noticing that he doesn’t have a ring and the tan line that should be there is long gone, which means he’s telling the truth. “Oh… sorry.” 

“It’s better this way,” he nods, giving her a sweet smile. “Is everything going to plan?” 

She nods too, “Yeah. Just waiting on your band… please tell me they’re good?” 

He laughs, “They’re great. Dave’s got this Jazz bar he basically owns with how much money he’s spent there so they owe him one… You’ll like them.” 

“Jazz, at Christmas?” She can’t believe it. “Hotch—

“Aaron,” he corrects her. “Please, for the love of god, call me Aaron again.”

“Why?” She laughs, “We’re not close.” 

“Oh, come on,” he teases. “You can’t tell me that before everything went down, we didn’t have something going on? We were friendly, I almost thought you had a crush on me?” 

She looks at him with a brow raised, “You thought I had a crush on you?” 

He nods, “And then you found out I was married.” 

“So you’re saying if you weren’t married we could’ve hooked up at the academy?” She asks. “Sounds like you liked me too, regardless of the wife.” 

“No—

“Be honest,” she begs, stepping into his space even more. “If things were different- if you didn’t have a wife and we fucked back then, would you have screwed me over for the job?” 

“I didn’t screw you over, I simply already knew Dave,” he finally admits after 10 long years. “I knew he was about to leave, he knew Gideon didn’t want to be in charge. He wanted someone to run the whole unit who wouldn’t choke— not saying you’d choke, he just knew I was already hard on the inside, I wasn’t going to lose my mind with all the shit we see.” 

“You could’ve put in a good word for me, Aaron, I would’ve been fine working under you. I would’ve loved even just an office job in the BAU, I want to work with more than just missing kids,” she begs. “I’ve done it for 10 years, now. You know that makes me strong. You have a kid of your own, you know it’s not easy to think about them missing, let alone deal with it.” 

“I know… and I was serious, I have a new position opening up and I want to give this another try,” he admits. “I want you on the team.” 

She shakes her head, “how can I be on the team when this—” she points between them. “This, whatever this is, is going on?” 

“The sexual tension?” He teases and she swats his arm. “We’ll be fine.” 

She shakes her head. “Just, give me some time to think about it?” 

“I can do that…” 

—

She watches him from afar most of the night. Talking only when they needed to, like in front of the director or on stage while introducing the band and thanking everyone for being there… she was having a very hard time being in the same room as him with all she knew now. 

She was still mad at him. 

Mad because she’s wasted so much of her life hating him when they could’ve been happy together… but at the same time she was sad for his ex-wife. She wondered how long the marriage was loveless. Did she know? Did she suspect? Who broke it off? Does he see his son? She knew he was a good man back then but, what kind of good man has a crush on someone else while married? Would he just do that to her if they got together? 

She had so many questions in her mind and they wouldn’t shut up. 

He approaches her again while she’s deep in thought, staring at the floor while she sips on a drink she doesn’t even like. 

“Having fun?” He asks. 

She shakes her head, “No.” she puts her drink down on the table just behind her and turns back to him as he begins to speak.

“Something not going according to pl—

“Why the fuck did you have to tell me you like me?” She snaps. “I was so okay with hating you for the rest of my life because I couldn’t be on the team I always wanted to join and then you tell me you like me? That if you didn’t have a wife you’d want to be with me back then?” 

He steps more into her space so they can keep their voices down and between each other, “because you deserve to know.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” she fights back. “You were never worried about me being too immature for the team, you were scared you’d end up cheating on your wife with me. I didn’t even know you had a wife until I developed feelings for you. You never wore your ring to class, we spent every day sitting together in class or at the library and you came back to my dorm a few times… you pursued me as much as I was pursuing you and then you made it my fault.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he bows his head, ashamed. “My wife and I weren’t in a good place, we were talking about getting separated… then she got pregnant.” 

“I thought Jack was only—

“We lost a couple babies before him,” he admits. “I didn’t want to be like my dad. I didn’t want to knock her up and leave her so I stayed. I stayed but I wasn’t a good dad anyway. I was always at work, I missed important things with my son and she was the one to end it because she deserved someone who wanted to be home with her and my son deserved to grow up knowing his dad wasn’t always going to be there but loves him enough to be as present as possible when he is home. I couldn’t be that when I was with his mom. we’re so much better apart, I love having weekends alone with my son and doing things we like and not worrying about fighting with his mother in front of him. And she’s happier now with her new boyfriend and Jack's happy with the prospect of a stepdad who can step up in all the areas I lack.” 

“That’s a really mature thing to do for him,” she manages to give him a small, press-lipped smile. “Still doesn’t make me feel better about what you did to me.” 

“I’ve wanted to tell you the truth and that I’m sorry for so long, but when we’re together it’s always a fight. I can never get an honest minute with you, you always just come in guns blazing and my instinct is to tease you back,” he admits. “I am sorry. I wish things were different. I would like to start over if you’d allow me to.” 

“I don’t want a job on your team,” she says, stepping in even closer. Close enough to kiss him. “I can’t work with you like this.” 

“Why?” He smirks. 

“Because Strauss hates you enough as is without you fucking your subordinate,” she whispers. “I’m not throwing myself under the bus… just to be under you.”

He lunges for a kiss, pressing his lips against hers as he cups her face. She backs up slightly in surprise, bumping into the table behind herself. Aaron’s instincts are sharp, he reaches behind her and steadies it so the drink doesn’t crash against the floor and draw more attention to them. She knows the few people in this corner are already looking at them, but she doesn’t care. 

This is a kiss she’s waited a decade for. 

Her hands go inside his suit jacket, she reaches around to grasp his back and pulls him flush against herself. They break the kiss just to breathe, going in for another and another until their tongues meet and they’re the odd couple making out in the corner of the party. 

His hand slips from her cheek to her jaw, along the side of her neck and then she pulls away, “not here,” she reminds him they’re in public and he can’t touch her anywhere he wants to. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “How long do we have to stay here?” 

“I have to stay for shutdown tonight,” she sighs. “But…. Come with me.” 

She pats his side and moves past him, leading him out of the little corner they’re in and towards the main room. He follows her up a staircase, past people they both know and respect and they catch a few eyes but, she puts on a fake pissed-off look and they think she’s leading him somewhere to yell at him… cause that’s what they do. 

“Hey man, where are you going?” Derek asks as they pass him and Penelope sharing a plate of hors d’oeuvres. 

He’s quick on his feet, “One of the vendors fucked up, we have to chat with their boss and discuss how they can make it up to us.” 

“Oh, damn, well… have fun,” he teases. Letting them go on down the small corridor towards some offices. 

She leads him to the only open office she has access to, flicks on the light, lets him in and locks the door behind them. He’s quick to crowd her space, press her up against the door and grip her chin to tilt her attention up toward his eyes once more. She’s back inside his suit jacket, he’s so toasty-warm in there she can only imagine what it’ll be like to be naked with him.

“What were you saying about fucking up and making up for it?” She teases him. 

He smirks, “I will… but first we need to find a way to release all that pent-up frustration we have against each other.” 

She tries her best not to laugh, just shaking her head with a smile as she lets out a little huff, “Ah yes, fuck me like you hate me so we can restart fresh.” 

He cups her face with both hands, eyes darkening with lust, “you’ve been such a brat for so long.” 

“And I’m sure you know the cure for that?” She teases, pulling him in closer. One of her legs slips out of the slit of her dress and she brings it up to wrap around his hip, he’s quick to drop one of the hands from her cheek to grip her thigh. 

“I do,” he whispers, his voice so deep it makes her stomach drop with anticipation. 

He kisses her abruptly, she grips his back pulling him as if they could possibly get any closer but they can’t. Not yet. He grinds against her as their tongues meet again, his hand on her leg goes a little higher until he’s gripping her ass. The hand on her cheek starts to slip again, caressing her chest, she lightly moans into his mouth at the feeling. He’s everywhere, boxing her in against the door, but she wants more. She wants him buried deep inside of her, pounding her against the table over there, letting her know just how much he’s wanted her this whole time. 

He kisses the side of her mouth, her jaw and down her neck, letting her catch her breath just to knock it all out of her again when he starts to lightly suck on her skin. “Aaron, don’t you fucking dare,” she scolds him. 

“I won’t,” he speaks against her, just lightly nipping and sucking at her skin on his way down to her cleavage. 

She pulls her hands out from inside his jacket to roam his shoulders until one hand ends up at the nape of his neck to play with his hair. Her head is tossed back against the door, and he kisses every inch of available skin on her chest. 

He reaches down and gets both of his hands under her ass, making her jump up so he can carry her. Still kissing her neck, he moves them over to the table and sets her down. She’s just the tiniest bit taller now, he kisses her cheek again, looking her in the eye once more as he spreads her legs and runs his fingers along her thighs, realizing now she has nylons on. His hands go further, towards her aching cunt, he grips her thighs while both thumbs play with the seam of her nylons. 

“I’m gonna rip these,” he announces, finding the weakest part of the seam and tearing it open enough to fit his cock through, without completely ruining them. He moves her thong to the side and drags his index finger over her clit. “You’re fucking soaked…”

She tosses her head back, both hands gripping the table like her ice depends on it when two of his fingers plunge into her. “Oh, fuck,” she moans a little too loud. 

Attaching his lips to her neck again, he sucks on her pulse point while fucking her on his fingers. It’s hard and quick, covering the palm of his hand with her slick as his thumb rubs her clit. She’s always known his hands would be good for this, if nothing else.

“Please, Aaron? Oh my god,” She starts to beg.

“Words, princess,” he teases against her neck, teeth grazing her skin, his breath hot, it sends a shiver down her spine. 

“Wanna cum,” she whispers, breathy and so close. “On your cock.” 

“Okay,” he pulls out, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking his palm up to his fingers. He sucks them into his mouth with a groan. His cock twitches between them, jumping with excitement. 

She whines again while he undoes the zipper and tugs his cock out, “please?” 

“Hold on,” he spreads the excess wetness over his cock, stroking himself twice while biting his tongue. It clearly felt so fucking good but she knew her tight cunt was going to be better. 

He slips in slowly and her grip changes, letting go of the counter, she wraps her legs around him and grips his back with her fingernails dug into the skin. “Better?” He whispers into her ear. 

She whimpers when he doesn’t move, feeling so full, “fuck me, please? Fuck me the way I deserve.” 

He hums, kissing her cheek before looking into her eyes, all watery and blown out, her mascara started to run a bit. He tilts his head to the side, “how hard?” 

“Hard,” she looks him dead in the face. 

He slips out, pulls her off the table and turns her around so her chest is against the cold hardwood table-top and flips her dress skirt up and out of the way. He rips her nylons even more, all the way up the back so her ass is exposed. He takes her ass cheeks in his hands and spreads her apart, amazed at how her pussy clenched in anticipation. 

“Please,” she whined, almost stomping her feet with desperation. 

He slams into her without warning, making her gasp loud enough to be heard by anyone wandering the hallway outside.

He pulls out a bit and slams back into her again and again and again until the noises she’s making are complete nonsense. She whines and moans and leans against the table for dear life while pushing back against him. He slaps her ass a few times, making the sound reverberate around the room like an echo. 

He needs more friction, so his thrusts get less powerful and more rhythmic, he uses her like a toy bouncing her on his cock like a rag doll. She felt like her main purpose in life was to be fucked by him like this, it felt so good, it felt incredibly right, and she loved every fucking second of it. All those years of fighting paid the fuck off.

He slams into her cervix over and over, the head of his cock kissing the puckered spot inside again and again. Her hungry cunt sucks him in so deep, never wanting him to leave, and he can tell she’s close just from the way she clamps around him like a vice. He reached around to her stomach and drags his hand down her mound to rub her clit with his middle finger. The rhythm barely matches, but she loves the way it feels. It’s unpredictable, it’s all under his control, she just sits there and takes it like the good girl he’s raised her to be. 

“Cum on the cock you hate so much,” he insists, “I wanna feel it. I want you to cover my cock in your cum before I fill you up to the fucking brim.” 

Too fucked out to really respond she reaches one hand behind her back so he’ll hold it. He intertwines their fingers and leans forward to kiss her shoulder as his hips snap against hers with force. She starts to shake, her legs barely able to keep her up as her orgasm hits her and rattles through her body. He feels the spasm from the inside, her cunt flutters as she releases all the built-up tension in her body She’s so fucking tight he’s barely able to register his own orgasm approaching when he topples over her on the table. 

He fucks into her as deep as he can go and then stills. She can feel rope after rope of his cum pump into her, they can hear the dribbles on the floor between them as it overflows and drips out of her, along with her own. 

He kisses her back, breathing hard against her. She’s just trapped there under him, legs quaking in her heels, “holy fuck?” 

“Sorry,” he pulls back and out of her, “shit… we didn’t think this through.” 

She sighs, holding her dress up so she doesn’t make a mess. “Are there any tissues in here?” 

He looks around, “Yeah… but it’s just that brown paper towel roll like we have at work.” 

“It’ll do,” she shrugs. Watching him walk over to the dispenser near the sink in the corner of the room, he takes a bit out and cleans himself up quickly, putting himself back in his boxers before her gets some more.

He leans her forward again, kneeling behind her, he cleans her up to the best of his ability and then he repositions her thong. He even wipes up the floor before tossing the paper out. “I can’t believe there was so much…” 

She laughs, dropping her dress back down and fluffing it so it looks normal again. “10 years worth of—

“Okay,” he shakes his head with a smirk, stepping back into her space, he wraps her up and kisses her forehead, “you did so good.” 

“Thank you,” she smiles sweetly, she feels so different. There’s so much affection in her chest as she looks up at him once more. “I’m glad we got that out of the way.” 

“I’ll stay with you here while they’re cleaning up,” he assures. “And maybe later I can show you how sorry I am for keeping secrets all these years?” 

“I’d really like that… but I’m still not working for you,” she teases. 

“I guess I’ll just have to take on more CARD cases so you’re forced to see me,” he teases right back, smiling at her. 

This is going to be fun. 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I recall reading in Ninaki's interview that Rachel met with her after the divorce decision and told her to be prepared as this news will come out in the papers the next day. Ninaki thought at that time what's the need for her to do so as Rachel wasn't even a big star when this was happened. But when I go back and scoured for this very detail, I can no longer find it. Guess Rachel got offended that Ninaki didn't think of her as an A Lister back then and got the article corrected

Ask from August 3rd

Here is the Ninaki interview (archived link). It's from December 2017. Be warned that there are *a lot* of pictures of Meghan in the article.

"It was such a shock when she told me they were getting divorced. After about three seasons of Suits, she called me and said she wanted me to know because it was going to come out in the papers. I knew they fought sometimes, but it wasn’t anything huge. The only obstacle was the distance because she was living in Toronto and Trevor was based in LA. But I thought that they were manoeuvring through it as best they could. Trevor would take his work to Canada to be with her and run his office remotely. I wasn’t aware there were any problems in the marriage. I had to accept what she said." Ninaki hesitates...[she] says she no longer recognises the girl with whom she shared her childhood. "A month after the divorce, I wanted to see how Trevor was doing. We met and talked. It’s not up to me to speak for Trevor, but I know he was travelling to Toronto every few weeks and would have walked the earth to make their marriage work. I don’t believe she gave him enough of an opportunity. I think there was an element of 'out of sight, out of mind' for Meghan. The way she handled it, Trevor definitely had the rug pulled out from under him. He was hurt. I tried to get details from her, but she wouldn’t tell me. What came to light after Trevor and I spoke ended my friendship with Meghan. I think everybody who knew them both was in shock. All I can say now is that I think Meghan was calculated — very calculated — in the way she handled people and relationships. She is very strategic in the way she cultivates circles of friends. Once she decides you’re not part of her life, she can be very cold. It’s this shutdown mechanism she has. There’s nothing to negotiate. She’s made her decision and that’s it."

and

"Then, after the wedding, it was like a light switched off. There’s Meghan Before Fame and Meghan After Fame. After three seasons of Suits, she called me to say the marriage was over. Maybe she had started to change before then, but I was refusing to see it. The tone of her voice, her mannerisms, the way she laughed didn’t seem real to me any more. Even by season two of Suits, she was turning down lunch with us because she said she’d be recognised. I felt if I questioned her behaviour, I’d be left on the outside. Sometimes the truth is not always what you want, is it? Her time became increasingly important. When she was in town, she’d want you to drop everything to see her. If I was busy, it would be, 'Why don’t you want to see me? I’m here. Let’s hang out!' There were instances when I felt she developed a sense of entitlement because she was on the show. The breaking point for me came when she wanted to adopt a dog. She’d fallen in love with it, but found someone else wanted the dog, too. So she emailed the pet adoption people and explained how she could provide a great life for it. She spoke of what a great time the dog would have in the Suits Family. I felt that she was playing the Suits card to try to get what she wanted. She included me and the other bridesmaids in the email chain because she wanted our moral support, I think. I didn’t respond to it. It left a sour taste in my mouth. We began to talk less. It was shortly after that I spoke to Trevor about the divorce. I phoned Meghan to speak about it, but she wouldn’t confide in me. It was obvious to me she wasn’t the friend I’d grown up with any more. She had a new circle of friends."

And one very prophetic line from the article: Many of the friends who celebrated with the newlyweds on that beach are no longer speaking to Meghan.

We can say the same thing now today about Harry. Many of the friends who celebrated with the newlyweds at Windsor are no longer speaking to Harry.

[sirfrogsworth]

Froggie's (Almost) Very Productive Day

I try to fit as many out-and-about chores as possible into a single day so I only have one set of post-exertional malaise consequences instead of consequences after each day of doing a thing. So any time I decide to drive, I try to find several tasks to accomplish all at once.

My first stop was the Family Services Division in the hopes of getting some help with grocery bills. I am making ends meet, but it seems to be getting harder each month. And maybe I could have skipped my trip to Florida and saved that money, but if I don't do something drastic for my mental health, I fear this first holiday season without a parent could send me into the darkness.

I needed to do an interview to finish applying for SNAP. I wanted to do a phone interview, but the next appointment was in January. So I went to social services where they allow walk-in appointments. I waited in a tiny plastic chair for several hours until they called my name. She yelled out "Benjamin" because when most people see "Grelle" they aren't really sure how to say it. (Rhymes with belly.)

She started my interview and it was going swimmingly at first. But then she started asking questions about the house and my inheritance and my trust. I had no idea what to tell her. It feels like a mistake now, but I have had pretty much no involvement in that process. I have no idea how it works. And I started to panic because she was acting like I was committing fraud or something by not mentioning the trust. But the entire point of the trust was to protect my benefits. Nothing is mine. I own nothing. I have no access. But I had no idea how to explain that.

Maybe my lawyer can help me apply, but I did not want them investigating everything and screwing things up before we even have the estate through probate. We specifically hired a lawyer and went through this convoluted process to make sure everything was on the up and up. But she really made me feel like I was doing something wrong. And that made me panic, which probably made me look even more guilty of something. So I just canceled everything and left.

After a few hours in a crowded government office, I decided to head to a different crowded government office.

I know I didn't need it until 2025, but I decided to go ahead and get my Real ID thingie before my first flight. I was kind of hoping they'd retake my picture because my current driver's license is... well...

And I'm so glad they took my big terrible picture and made it into a smaller, more terrible picture.

People complain about the DMV, but the one near me runs like a machine. It was filled with people and I still only had a 10 minute wait time.

I'm starting to wonder if all of those 80s comedians who were all, "What's the deal with the DMV?" were exaggerating.

Good stuff, Jerry.

I head up to the counter and ask for a Real ID. She asks for two pieces of mail and my birth certificate.

And this disappointed me a little bit.

I did my research. I went to the Real ID website and used their interactive guide to figure out exactly which documents I would need. They gave me this entire checklist and I printed it out and went through all my records and mail trying to find everything.

I had to wait a week for my internet bill to come because it's the only thing I forgot to change to paperless. This took a lot of effort and I was ready to be validated for being so prepared.

And she asks for two pieces of mail.

Any mail.

So I was off to get new tires.

Driving around on 8 year old bald tires was giving me anxiety. I didn't have the money for new tires, but I remember the guy saying they had financing. Recently several of my past debts went past the statute of limitations, and so my credit score lifted itself out of the pits of "poor" and into the realm of "fair." So I decided to take a chance and apply for a Discount Tire credit card. It's a 6 month payment plan with no interest, so that didn't feel as predatory as all the credit card offers I get in the mail with 8000% interest.

We started going through the approval process and I was answering all of the questions and then I saw the name of the bank offering the credit. It was the same bank that tried to sue me and also the bank that can longer collect due to the statute. I was worried they put me on some sort of list and would deny me. But, to my surprise, they approved me instantly. And wouldn't you know it, they gave me almost exactly the amount needed for a new set of tires.

I'm hoping we'll be doing another auction of the house stuff soon, so I plan to pay off the card and then cancel it, but this was the only solution I could come up with to drive safely until then.

I was having a weird day where photos of crusty rich wide dudes followed me everywhere I went. Here is my good ol' boy governor at the entrance to social services.

And at the tire place, I noticed this fella...

Why does every rich CEO think they are a font of wisdom capable of creating compelling quotes?

Does he think no one has ever said "work hard" and "have fun"? And after he said this was he like...

"That's gold, put that in *every* store."

"Oh, and use that picture of me where it looks like a handsome gal just grabbed my undercarriage."

He probably thinks, "Well, no one has put these specific generic platitudes together into a single mega-platitude. I am a genius."

"Be honest, work hard, have fun, be grateful, pay it forward" sounds like he had a bunch of motivational posters on his wall and started reading them all at once.

Like, every line could have a picture of an eagle above it.

In any case, the guy at the tire store, Dakota, was really nice. He made the experience very low anxiety. And he really liked my Thor's Hammer keychain with built in fidget spinner.

He went around showing it to all his coworkers. "Look, it even spins!" And they were like, "Dude, where did you get that??" And I was like, "Amazon." Now I'm just imagining 10 dudes at a tire store all fidgeting their hammers.

As nice as he was, Dakota was still a salesman and had a job to do. He gave me two tire options and tried to upsell me. The cheapest tires had a "1" rating for winter. He said they get "super hard" in the cold... I tried not to giggle. But I explained I drive about twice a month and mostly to the grocery store. If it is a bad winter day, I'll just wait or get delivery. He understood and set me up with the cheaper tires.

He then checked out my car and noticed my tire pressure sensors were dying. I keep getting a warning light on my dash. Apparently they all have tiny batteries in them that die after 7 years. And you can't just replace the batteries so you have to install brand new sensors.

And this is where my social anxiety got me into trouble.

I don't actually need these sensors. They are usually inaccurate. I prefer to test my tires with an actual gauge. But I got so caught up in his sales pitch that I agreed to replace them... at $60 each. For that I could have gotten the fancier tires. I really don't care if an orange light shows up on my dash. And I looked up the price online and a pack of 4 is $30. Though that is without installation.

But still... I wasn't thinking and he was so nice that I was just like, "I want to please Dakota. Saying no might make Dakota sad." Dakota's job is selling me but that doesn't mean I have to buy anything. He would live if I had said "no thanks."

To make my blunder more blunderous, when they finished the tires he asked for my key fob. And it decided that was the time for the battery to die. And in order to reset the system for the new tire pressure sensors, you have to press two buttons on the fob for 7 seconds. Thankfully I had a spare fob at home, but if I want my fancy new $240 sensors to work, I have to return to Dakota and have him initialize them.

I really hope these are the Cadillac of sensors.

Or, like, the ones they use on Cadillacs?

They better be accurate, is what I'm saying.

I do feel safer with new tires. So I am glad I did that. And I gave them a good obligatory kick and felt the tread. They seem nice enough even if they get boners in the winter. It's crazy how bald my other tires were in comparison. Like, I can fit half my finger down into the tread on the new ones—which did not get them super hard.

The way I drive, I probably won't wear them down. They'll probably start to rot before I do.

Before I do, meaning before I wear them down.

Not before I rot.

I am not in a rotting competition with my tires.

I was then off to Sam's. I decided all of my hard work accomplishing 2 out of 3 goals deserved some sushi. So I grabbed some California Rolls and headed home. On my way out, a Hummer and a Porsche nearly collided in the parking lot. And they sort of got stuck facing each other. One of them needed to back up and they both signaled at each other like "You back up, I'm not backing up." And it was just this weird standoff between the two douchiest looking cars you could imagine.

I mean, you have to be a douche to drive a Hummer.

I still remember the mystery Hummer dialysis patient from when my dad was going 3 time per week. We could never figure out who owned the Hummer, but we knew it was not the underpaid nurses and techs. So it had to be one of the patients. And none of them seemed the type. We never solved that mystery.

That hummer started off a delightful safety yellow. (Elon would cry.)

They decided this wasn't extra enough... so they did this...

Katrina and I could never decide... are these cow spots or the world's least effective camoflauge?

There was another patient who drove this old beater...

And I loved seeing this car because we had the same one when I was a little kid. I'm afraid the aesthetics of the 1980s Caprice Classic did not stand the test of time, but it had great sentimental appeal for me.

But this maroon beast that squeaked and sputtered its way from here to there belonged to a very sweet older gentleman. Sometimes he and my dad would be dialysis buddies—sitting next to each other in the recliners. And the worst thing about dialysis was the boredom. All you have to do is watch broadcast TV with 4 channels.

All of the TVs require headphones. They give you your own set of super cheap headphones in the dialysis welcome bag. They were very uncomfortable so I ordered my dad better ones with cushioned ear cups.

His dialysis buddy noticed them and thought they looked nice. And then he revealed that his free headphones broke and he didn't know how to get new ones. He had been watching TV with no sound for weeks. So, I bought another pair with the soft ear cups and my dad gave them to his friend. And it just made me happy imagining the two of them watching The Price is Right in matching headphones.

I do have to make fun of this sweet old man a little bit. When I walked passed his car I noticed he implemented the world's most effective anti-theft device ever created.

That's right... The Club™.

If someone decides they have to have a 40 year old car with an engine that sounds like a dying hyena and a hubcap missing... they are out of luck.

But hey, you gotta protect what is important to you. And if I needed a getaway car and my choices were between his beater and the Cow Hummer, I'd take his ride for sure.

Well, I'd try... and then get arrested because The Club™ is undefeatable.

Do NOT look that up on YouTube. It's 100% true. (And the Lock Picking Lawyer doesn't count due to him being able to break into Fort Knox with a paperclip and then doing it again to make sure it isn't a fluke.)

The dialysis center is in the same complex as my local Tolerable Schnucks and I still see that maroon boat of a car every once in a while. I always smile whenever it is there because it lets me know he is hanging in there and hopefully still has sound for his TV.

Wow, I went off on a mega-tangent.

I didn't even finish talking about my day. Where was I? Oh, the douche standoff finally ended. The Porsche Douche capitulated and backed up. Probably due to the fact the Hummer Douche has 0 visibility behind him.

When I got home I started devouring my sushi. I finally heard back from my lawyer. He submitted the last of the evidence for my appeal. And I was finally able to confirm he got the records of my ECT treatments from 20 years ago. I worked so hard to get those. At first, they forgot to send all records before 2011. I had to call back and figure that out. They shipped them and they didn't arrive until a week before we had to file. Everything was so last minute and my anxiety has been... palpable. It felt like when I did my science fair project on Sunday night.

He's hoping to get a decision at the beginning of next year. He warned me that these appeals are usually rejected. And that the most effective method of approval was a hearing in front of an administrative law judge. But that could be delayed by up to a year. So I might need to figure out how to survive until 2025. As long as my brother does what he is legally required to do, I should be okay. But counting on that also gives me palpable anxiety.

And that was my day.

Every time I go out is always an adventure.

But remember...

BE NICE. EAT YOUR VEGGIES. PET CUTE DOGS. DREAM BIG. KEEP YOUR TIRES WARM... FOR REASONS. 5 LIFE LESSONS -Froggie, Mildly Famous Internet Person

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Prince Edward has paid tribute to his wife, Sophie, as his ‘absolute rock’ as he discussed his family life with Alan Titchmarsh during an appearance on Love Your Weekend.

The episode, which is set to air on March 10, the Duke of Edinburgh’s 60th birthday, will see the Prince sit down with the presenter and open up about his wife, the Duchess of Edinburgh, and their two children, Lady Louise, 20, and James, Earl of Wessex, 16.

Speaking of how much Sophie means to him, the Duke called his wife ‘critical, absolutely critical.’

He continued:

‘She's been an absolutely brilliant rock and I'm incredibly lucky that I found Sophie and that she found me. Hopefully, we've been a really brilliant partnership.

We're very lucky, we’ve got two, of what we would think are particularly brilliant children, who are forging such different paths for themselves. I think that's also equally fascinating.’

Elsewhere he spoke about the significance of Mothering Sunday and described what the celebration means for his own family.

Prince Edward said, ‘Always and it's doubly so when you've got your own children - your own family is very important.’

‘Those days were [important growing up], and these days are really important to remember some very, very special people in our lives.

There should be several times in the year when we make a special sort of effort and Mothering Sunday was very much one of those where you made a special effort just to say ‘thank you.’

So it goes on and that's the lovely thing about it. That's the lovely thing about families and that's what it should be.’

During the discussion, Prince Edward also revealed the lasting memories his grandchildren have of the late Prince Philip, including teaching his daughter Lady Louise to drive a carriage.

It's a hobby, which was a passion of the late Duke’s, and has since been adopted as one of Lady Louise’s.

He said, ‘It was entirely off her own bat. I mean, you know, just one day, ‘Can I go out with you and go sit on the boxes?’

He was like, ‘Absolutely.’

'He never was going to say no! He took her out with the team and I think it was only the second time, he was driving along and he said, ‘Do you want to have a go?’ and she didn’t have time to even answer the question, he just handed the reins across.’

Elsewhere in the discussion, Prince Edward spoke about how much it meant to him to be bestowed the title of Duke of Edinburgh. He said:

‘It was a huge privilege but also quite a lot of weight of expectation as well. I mean, there's an awful lot of legacy that came with that title and everything that my father had done. Especially when you're not inheriting it, this is a choice… that comes with all the expectations that people have.

It's just the weirdest and strangest feeling. You walk into a room and, particularly still today, there are name places on a card and I still look around going ‘Yes, but where am I sitting?’

Explaining how he would describe his father Prince Philip, The Duke called him an ‘extraordinary mind’, adding:

‘He was the Prince Albert of our age. He had an extraordinary mind. He loved design, he loved innovation, he was brilliant with all sorts of people.

Sometimes it didn't necessarily come across that way, but he was actually brilliant with people. He was always, always encouraging everybody. You sort of needed to get to know him.’

The interview comes after Sophie gave her own touching tribute to Edward during a royal engagement earlier in March.

The Duchess gave a rare, gushing tribute to her husband, calling him ‘the best of fathers and the most loving of husbands.’

Prince Edward looked deeply emotional throughout the speech, putting his hands over his face, as Sophie spoke about their love, saying, ‘I am so proud of the man he is.’

[filmbyjy]

COLLIE DUTY

SYNOPSIS > being the new CEO to the ‘Sim Corp’ was hard and stressful. jake didn’t have much time to spend with layla and so he decides to get a dogsitter, you. though, you were originally already his secretary. how will dog sitting bring you two closer?

FOUR - she’s a cute one [written + pictures]

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

WARNINGS: none :)

ah yes, who knew you’d spend the afternoon of your work day walking down to jake’s expensive ass mansion. no seriously, jake was loaded with money.

oh sorry, I meant Mr.Sim was loaded with money. as you can tell, he is your boss and CEO of the company. you never bothered to ever address him by Mr.Sim though. why? simply because the both of you are the same age. it truly was a funny story on how you landed this job. being his secretary.

-

you remember the day where you bumped into him and spilled your coffee onto his shirt. god, you remember scrambling to help him and wipe off the stain off his like $1000 coat. actually, you were already late to like an interview (at his company but you didn’t know he was the CEO)

“it’s alright. you don’t have to apologise.” the man before you says.

“no no, i’m sorry. I spilt coffee on you and your coat. it looks expensive. though I probably can’t afford to buy you a new one, maybe I could pay for dry-cleaning?”

He laughs. No seriously, he laughs at you. He found you sort of cute to think that you could pay for the dry cleaning of his expensive coat. It was a one of a kind coat and there was only one in the world. Specifically tailored for him but you didn’t know and he wasn’t a rich snobby guy.

“It’s really okay. It’s just a little coffee and you were a little clumsy. This happens the most of us. Just be careful next time, alright?”

“But I need to repay you in some way-” he hands you a business card.

“If you feel really bad then maybe you could eventually repay me by getting coffee together.”

You bowed a couple of times to apologise to him and then went straight to the interview. The same one he would attend since he so happens to be looking for a secretary at the time. This stunned the both of you a little when you noticed each other in the room. Jake was even quicker to also announced you would be his new secretary and that caused jay and another staff to look at him in shock.

“What? Is it wrong to want her to be my secretary?” Jake tilts his head.

“Mr.Sim, we barely started the interview.-”

“And? She definitely looks qualified. Maybe a little clumsy but she definitely can get it after a couple of times.”

“Sir-” jay stops the other staff.

“Alright then Mr.Sim, if you wanna do it. Go ahead.”

The memories…and now here you are. watching Layla running around with a tennis ball in her mouth. she places it on the ground in front of you and nudges you to throw it. you were surprised she warmed up to you instantly because you heard it took a while for jay to even convince her to eat the food he placed on her bowl.

you threw the ball and Layla runs over to grab it. she barks and happily catches it. she then runs over to where you were and flopped in front of you. she rolls over so her belly was exposed. you gave her a good belly rub and she enjoys it. maybe this wasn’t so bad, layla was a good dog so she definitely would be obedient with you. now, all you had to focus on was getting some actual work done.

you were still jake’s secretary after all. hence, you took out jake’s iPad and went to fix up his schedule for tomorrow. you scanned through and added everything important, called to make sure the clients would actually be present in the next week’s meeting. you just continued working. then, a message pops up.

it was jake, asking if he could see a picture of layla. you happily snapped a picture. however, you quickly realised what you had just sent after texting him that picture was just creating more work for yourself and now you were screwed.

a/n: rip you. I am also hoping that the pictures and texts don’t mess up bc the last time I did it, I could not edit the chapter and it wouldn’t save😵‍💫

taglist[open]: @svarcq @useraerin @ajayke-reads @peachysunooooo @xiaoderrrr @viagumi @lunakua @bubblytaetae @aureliaxuuu @nikiluvr16 @sngvhs @watermelon-sugars-things @bldelaine @enhaz1 @yeoungie @heart4hees @mimimovv @enczen @enhastolemyheart @woon2u @kyanmeai @4townn @skzenhalove @s00buwu @ce1ight @markleepooh @sparklingsjy @rizzshimura @bluxjun

(bolded can’t be tagged)

want to be added into the taglist? just send an ask or fill up this short form here!

[ninihousebears3000]

An interview with HR

HR Deparment! Reader x Hellsing (everyone)

“Hi welcome! Everyone just calls me HR but it has grown on me.”

So what do you do here at the Hellsing Organization?

“I am the head of the Human Resources department. At the moment I am lobbying for more employees or at least an assistant. Fingers crossed Sir Integra answers my emails about this inquiry…Or any email.”

What happened between you and Alucard?

“Oh, wow we’re talking about that incident. Already? Well like any incident we keep it confidential of what happened between the parties involved.” *clears throat*

“Okay, I am speaking to you as a friend venting on their fifteen. To keep a long story short, Alucard attempted to drink my blood one night. I defended myself and immediately had our long-awaited one-on-one meeting about his rampant misconduct.”

What are those tip jars for on your shelf?

“Oh, this? So I put some change in here every time I have to file a report against Alucard. It’s a way to keep me motivated and not let misconduct run loose.”

What about the other ones?

“How do I put this? Well for Pip Bernadotte I simply put change anytime he says something that’s not workplace-appropriate. Or if I have to take disciplinary action against his men. At the end of the week, I treat myself to a movie.”

The same for the ones on the top shelf?

“Okay between you and me as a friend venting on their lunch break. Those are to keep track of every time something happens…that causes weird feelings. *clears throat* For example Seras Victoria sweet person. But she can unintentionally cross boundaries. So I do that as a way to remind myself she may be nice and really adorable but I can’t let this slide.”

“For Walter, he’s really great and helps me out a lot but I get the creeping sensation that he’s around every corner. I know he’s the butler but it’s almost as if it’s planned that I keep running into him.”

“Unfortunately, I got too personal with Pip one time when I was on my lunch break walk. And while the Wild Geese were booby-trapping the perimeter I accidentally stepped on a land mine. While he was disarming it I might’ve been very vulnerable thinking I was gonna die…He went in for a kiss I gave him a gift card instead.”

Is there one for Sir Integra?

“Um, well you know I thought she didn’t like me at first. Saying she did not need my department. But when I told her why every company needs an HR department she simply smirked?”

“After my landlord turned out to be a vampire who drank the blood of tenants who were late on rent. And then started a ghoul army I was, of course, rescued and Integra visited me in the hospital. And gave me a room here.”

“Although, I did notice that my bedroom was near her bedroom. And I feel like she might be watching me?”

“You know I always feel watched by everyone…”*puts change in all the jars*

Do you think they’re attracted to you?

“What, no. That’d be inappropriate work relations. Come on you think I’d violate that rule?”

“I am not here for myself. You see many may think I take my job too seriously. It is said Human Resources are meant to protect the company and not the employee. I disagree! I aspire to make every workplace environment safe and productive!”

“Excuse me, sir, here is your second cup of coffee.” Walter walks in placing the cup on your desk.

“Oh thank you Walter you didn’t have to.” You smile at him.

“Nonsense it is my pleasure to serve you.” There was something about Walter’s smile that felt off but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Was it that you felt something in your chest?

“By the way sir, if you don’t mind me asking who were you talking to?” He asked.

“Uh, well, um…”

“I think they’re pretending to be on a show like The Office? Like they’re being interviewed?” Seras answered from the other room.

“Is that why you always make a face looking off to the side!” Pip walked into the office.

You felt heat rise to your face feeling like you got caught.

“I was wondering what was going on in their little mind.” Alucard peered through the wall.

“As long as they do their job I don’t care what they pretend to do.” Sir Integra interrupted this impromptu get-together. “Although it is deeply amusing.”

You wanted to shrink and hide from everyone’s eyes. Despite how large the mansion is it felt cramped. Do you have an effect on people you aren’t aware of?

“I know it’s the afternoon but can I come out of my coffin I can’t sleep?” Seras asked when there was a brief moment of silence.

“NO!” There was a unanimous no. Meanwhile, you added money to each jar.

[sc0tters]

i have rory thoughts

when she used to never celebrate her goals kris would grab her arms and shake them above her head to make it look like she’s celebrating

rory fights reaves and wins and she is literally beaming and is so happy but then some interviewer says it was because of her looks not her fighting skills and she storms out of the interview

rory struggling to adjust in her new team and calls quinn crying one night and quinn has to comfort her

rory clings to sidney at the lakehouse so much that when they aren’t together ellen thinks something is wrong

rory picked up niki from school one day and bought him to practice and kept saying he was her son

I LOVE EACH OF THESE BRO

"when she used to never celebrate her goals kris would grab her arms and shake them above her head to make it look like she’s celebrating"

no but literally.

Rory would just stand there looking at everyone like she was a lost little puppy.

Eventually, Kris took it into his own hands and would skate up to her and would hold her hands up shaking them around.

He did that once and everyone thought that it was planned out between them so the fans thought it was cute. That's how the celly became their thing.

"rory fights reaves and wins and she is literally beaming and is so happy but then some interviewer says it was because of her looks not her fighting skills and she storms out of the interview"

She hadn't been in a fight for a while so when Rory got into that fight because Reaves went for her, she was more than proud to say that she won. So when the journalist came and brought up how he wouldn't want to hurt her pretty face.

Sidney heard that comment and literally almost lost it when Rory went silent storming away "trust me, when Rory throws a punch the last thing you think of is her pretty face." He blurted out sending the journalist a glare.

"so you think Rory Hughes is pretty?"

"she certainly isn't ugly."

"rory struggling to adjust in her new team and calls quinn crying one night and quinn has to comfort her"

Rory still hates Nashville.

Whilst the rest of the boys went out to celebrate a win they failed to bring the person who scored the overtime winning goal to it.

So when she is just sat on her couch an interview comes up with Sidney who is talking about how Rory started doing some really funny cellys and he felt like on this night he had to recreate one.

Even though she wasn't talking to him it was literally something that broke her "Quinn." Rory cried out as the facetime video connected.

He literally drops everything when he saw that. Brock was playing cards with him but now the blonde was being told to shut up and not cheat as Quinn hid in his bedroom "whats wrong?"

"rory clings to sidney at the lakehouse so much that when they aren’t together ellen thinks something is wrong"

Rory and Sid are two peas in a pod as they do everything together. Even when one of them is getting a drink or something inside the other follows.

But when Rory lays on the sun lounger as Sidney goes inside to get himself a drink and Rory a snack (she didn't ask for it but Sidney knows that Rory is going to want it still)

Ellen goes into panic mode when Rory just remains on her seat "you two okay?" She furrows her eyebrows as Rory nods "why wouldn't we be?" Rory is literally so confused by the question.

"you haven't left that man's side in days, kid."

"rory picked up niki from school one day and bought him to practice and kept saying he was her son"

Rory finally convinced Geno to let her take Niki to a play thing one day.

For some reason children accompanied by their parents went in for free so Rory instantly went with it “yes I gave birth to him.” She nodded along not aware that there were fans around them

Geno 🧞‍♂️: why is Twitter saying that Niki is your son??

[letsgetrowdy43]

The girl, so confusing (Rowan's Version)—

Nico Hischier x Angie Chandler au

Disclaimer this is a fake scenario!!! bringing light to some of the background issues that Angie deals with on top of playing hockey and falling in love!!

Au Masterlist!!

Angie's hands gently shook as the tech woman in front of her replaced the battery in her lav mic, a nervous smile on her lips as she thanked the woman who placed a glass of ice water on the coffee table.

The reporter, Molly, an old friend from university who had written a few pieces for the sports section of the school's newspaper and now was a writer for a bigger sports outlet grinned as she sat down on the green couch adjacent to her. "You nervous?" she asked as she reached her hand out for Angie's. "Yeah," her hand fell into Molly's as she took a long breath, "I just wanna put all of this to bed and I don't want to be painted in the wrong light."

Molly's smile softened as she squeezed Angie's hand and then got comfy in her seat, "I understand, and I want everything you share with me to be on your terms," she looked to the camerawoman and gave her the go to start recording.

This was Molly's first ever independent piece as a sports journalist, and she wanted to create a sense of change.

"This issue of pitting women against one another spans so far beyond Hockey culture, it's in the media, it's societal pressure, this ideology surrounds woman players and adds this sort of expectation that for Woman to be successful there must be this added element of pettiness to create narrative and drama. It is all a ploy to make an argument that women create too many issues to be in the 'big leagues'"

Angie was a little taken aback as the story was all laid out for her, multiple interviews from players both past and present, different professors and authors who had dedicated their lives work to this issue, all coming together to highlight this quiet threat to Girlhood culture and woman in sports.

Angie nodded along as Molly ran through her breakthrough piece, a mini-series highlighting the issue of erasing the concept of Girlhood from sports in replace of competition.

"Do you want to say your name and a little bit about yourself?" Angie snapped up a little, one of her hands balled into a tight fist as she looked towards Molly and then the camera, "I'm Evangeline Chandler, number eighteen on the New Jersey Devils"

Molly grinned as she looked through the notes on the queue cards in her hands, "She's being humble, Angie was the first ever Woman to play within the USNTDP, The first woman to attend the NHL Draft Combine, and the first woman to play an entire season and have a consistent spot on an NHL team," the reporter watched as Angoe grew shy at the praise, "a woman of many accomplishments." "Thank you."

"When did all of this start?"

Angie thought back, "It was during dev camp at the beginning of the season. The inaugural draft had just taken place, and one of my closest friends, Taylor, had been selected first." She smiled, thinking back to the day, the phone call after the draft congratulating her, the tears about finally having a place amongst the greats.

"Taylor and I have been through so much together," Angie continued. "We played together in college, and we both had dreams of making it big. When she got drafted first overall, I was over the moon for her. But that's when the media frenzy started." Molly listened intently, her pen poised over her notebook. "What happened next?" "The headlines were brutal," Angie said, her smile fading, "'Rivalry Brews Between Top Female Athletes,' they twisted our friendship into something ugly, something competitive. It wasn't true, but it spread like wildfire."

"How did Taylor react to all of this?" "She was amazing," Angie said, her voice softening, "She called me and said, 'Don't let them get to you," and whatnot, but it was hard. The media made it seem like we were enemies, and that narrative started to spread into our circles. People started asking me if I felt threatened by her success, or if I thought she resented me for being in the NHL."

"It sounds like it created a lot of unnecessary tension." "It did," Angie agreed, "but it also brought us closer in a way. We called all the time to check up on one another, we knew that we had to stick together and show the world that women in sports are not enemies, but allies."

Molly leaned forward and nodded gently, her eyes locking onto Angie's, "So, let's talk about this narrative the tabloids have been pushing. They paint you as some sort of anti-PWHL figure because you're part of the NHL. How does that make you feel?" Angie took a deep breath, her eyes momentarily closing as she gathered her thoughts. "to be really frank, it's frustrating," she began, her voice slowly becoming more confident the less she held up a front and the more she let herself be vulnerable. "I've played with and against many of the girls in the PWHL. They're my friends, my teammates. The media wants to create this drama that doesn't exist. They want to pit us against each other, but that's not the reality."

"Why do you think the media does that?" "Because conflict sells," Angie said bluntly, her voice sharp as she shrugged, "They want a story, and they think this 'catfight' angle will get them clicks and views, at my and other women's expense."

"It's damaging, and not just to me, it hurts every woman in the game. It creates unnecessary rifts and makes it harder for us to just play the game we love." Molly just nodded as she watched this woman finally start to use her voice against all the wrong that has been aimed towards her, "I'm not against the PWHL, and I would never look down on women doing the thing they love. I aspire to be as monumental as these women literally changing the game right in front of our eyes, and I hope they know just how inspiring they are to me and thousands of girls and women who aspire to be as historic as they are."

There was a short pause as Angie gathered her thoughts, the weight of the words she had just spoken settling around her. Molly leaned in slightly, sensing the significance of the moment, "that's powerful," she said softly. "And I think it's important for people to hear that directly from you. But let's go a bit deeper. How has this media narrative affected your relationships with the girls in the PWHL?"

Angie sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly, "It's been really tough. Some of them start to believe the rumours, and it creates this tension that's hard to shake off. I was a 'celebrity coach' at the All-Star game for the PWHL 3-on-3 and it was really hard to enjoy that experience with the girls when the media brought up my name to both me and them saying that I was entitled and looked down on them because I play in a separate league than them. I hope none of them believed it, it made me feel really insecure in my sense of self because these women and that league really do mean the world to me and the thought that they think poorly of me was crushing."

A small smile worked its way onto her face as she thought back to all of her friends who had reached out to talk about the article, all super excited to finally see her supported and clearing their around her and the league as a whole. "But the girls who know me, who really know me, understand that it's all nonsense. They're supportive, and they know we're all in this together."

Molly smiled softly, "That's exactly what I want to highlight in my piece. The solidarity among women in sports, the real stories of friendship and mutual respect. We need to change the narrative." Angie nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I'm glad you're doing this. It's about time someone told the truth."

Molly's eyes sparkled with determination. "And that's exactly what I intend to do. This mini-series is going to shed light on the reality of women in sports, the challenges we face, and the strength we show every day. It's time to tell the real story."

As the interview continued, Angie felt a weight lifting off her shoulders. She spoke candidly about her journey, the highs and lows, and the importance of unity among female athletes. Molly's questions were thoughtful and respectful, allowing Angie to share her truth without fear of being misrepresented.

By the end of the interview, Angie felt a sense of relief and empowerment. She knew that Molly's piece would be a game-changer, not just for her, but it brought a sense of perspective to the game, finally listening to women's voices. It was a step towards breaking down the harmful narratives and building a culture of support and connection.

As they wrapped up, Molly reached out and squeezed Angie's hand once more, "Thank you, Angie. For your honesty and your courage" Angie smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank you, for giving me a voice."

The camerawoman signalled that they were done, and Angie let out a long breath. She had done it

-

-

-

[starfallcity]

THE ECLIPSE - VOLUME 36

Brought to you by Starfall's longest-running magazine, providing you with quality content about the latest news, trends, and high life of Starfall's elites.

This season is all about love- whether it's romantic or not, this issue of THE ECLIPSE has something for everyone, starring the heartthrob taking social media by storm. Founder and CEO of Dr. Love, and runner of the newest late-night show with a 'zine of his own on the way: everyone, welcome Cupid Amoré!

Interviewer: Thank you, Mr. Amoré for taking the time to sit with us. We know you must be busy.

Cupid: It's no problem at all! I'm honored you thought I was important enough to interview- the email startled me so bad I had to step away from my laptop! It was a little embarrassing...

I: Well I'm glad you found it so exciting! Getting straight into it, what are the basics of what you'd want the readers to know?

C: Hm. [pause] Obviously, there's my name, but that's likely been plastered all over the page by now. [chuckles] I guess from there it'd be my age, and so on- 34, as of right now. I'm a huge romantic- if you couldn't tell already. Mmn... [another pause] I don't really have a lot of nicknames- most people usually call me by my first name. Either that or my last. My favorite of all of them is 'squish', though. My sister gave it to me when I was younger.

I: 34? Wow! You seemed a lot younger- I wouldn't have guessed from your socials. And "Squish"- is there a particular reason behind it?

C: My sister would just say it's because my face was so fat. [sigh, a tired smile spreads on his face] She wasn't wrong, but I still want to whack her for it.

I: Siblings, am I right? Moving on, would you mind explaining the whole deal on your company, Dr. Love? It feels like it sprung up out of nowhere!

C: Well, I've actually run Dr. Love as a small online business for a while now, but only in recent months have we actually expanded into a "real" company. We sell products- mostly themed around couples, though our products can be bought by and gifted to anyone. Candies, cards, bouquets, etcetera. We even have a matchmaking service, and- ahem- 'items' for our older clients to enjoy on sale. Those ones are part of a...slightly different brand, though- the same one used for our late night show.

I: I see...it's nice to see you've taken the time to separate your adult and general brands. What inspired you to take this route? The type of business, I mean.

C: Love, of course! [chuckles] To be more specific, my love of love. I've lived in this city all my life- seen a manner of nasty things come about. I think if people took the time to slow down, and really take the time to appreciate themselves and the people around them- to interact without judgement, that Starfall can become a much better place. Too many people are on edge; trust is low- kindness to strangers is seen as some sort of novelty. If my company can help open hearts and change minds, well, I'd find that just wonderful.

I: An altruistic approach- don't you feel that's a bit naïve? With all the conflicts between humans and non-humans, not to mention the looming possibility of....well, I'm sure you've gotten your fair share of concerning fanmail yourself.

C: I have, and really, both of those issues are tragic to me, in a way. People are averse to change- I can see why someone with no experience would find the sudden appearance of non-humans jarring. Except, they aren't sudden- not in Starfall. They've been a long-standing part of our history. To try and push them out because of some sort of purity complex is, pardon my harsh words, stupid. Stupid and ignorant.

[pause]

C: And yes, that 'possibility' you've mentioned. I can't judge those people too harshly. At the end of the day, that type of behavior is more than your standard pushy fan. It's a sign of something deeper- it's something innate in that person. [frowns] I can't help but feel sad thinking about it. There are people who need help in this city. Real help. They're disturbed, but they're still people. I doubt they actively choose to be the way they are- it's unfortunate.

I: ...Of course. How genuine of you, Mr. Amoré. Aside from your business career, what can we come to expect from you? Publicity wise.

C: Of course there's the show- thinking about it is still nerve wracking, but I'll live. It's a late night show, nothing explicit, but I suggest streaming it after the young'ins have gone to bed. [winks] For our younger fluttering hearts, though, our magazine is all-ages, with an advice column for those struggling hearts in our community. We've been considering featuring some local stories in our magazine as well- meet cutes, self love stories...just things that make you feel fuzzy inside, you know?

I: Looks like we may have a bit of competition, eh? We're looking forward to its official release! Wrapping up now, any final words you have or our readers?

C: I am too. As for final words, not many, surprisingly. I just wish to thank those who have supported me up until this point, and welcome all those who decide to join the little community we've crafted. I wouldn't have gotten as far as I have without your help. Other than that, continue to spread as much love as you can- you never know who really needs it.

I: A touching message. Thank you again, Mr. Amoré, we appreciate you coming in and answering our questions. For our readers who want more of Starfall's newest star, be sure to check out the information listed below about his upcoming projects. Thank you for your time, and stay tuned for the next issue of THE ECLIPSE!

[densi-mber]

A/N: Set in mid to late season 4. Also, thanks to @mashmaiden for finding pictures to go with these fics!

***

What’s Another Word for Jealousy

“Thank you so much, Miss Hart. We appreciate you taking the time to talk to us,” Deeks said, offering a smile to the waitress he and Kensi had just finished interviewing. The woman’s cheeks flushed slightly under her gaze, and Kensi barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. His affect on women was simultaneously impressive and annoying. “If you think of anything else, feel free to give us a call.”

“Sure, of course,” she said, nodding as she accepted the business card Deeks handed her. She took it like he’d offered her a fine piece of jewelry and not a piece of card stock with the NCIS hotline number.

The turned to go, getting a few yards away when Miss Hart called out “Detective!”

Deeks looked over his shoulder, shrugging at Kensi before he jogged back over. When he reached her, Miss Hart took Deeks’ elbow, turning him so he was slightly facing away. Kensi’s mouth dropped open at the woman’s audacity.

As she watched, Deeks dipped his head as the waitress stretched up on her toes to whisper something in his ear. Based on Deeks’ shift in posture, Kensi guessed it was something obscene. Then, she held out a square of paper, her expression clearly sly, even from a distance. After a moment of hesitation, Deeks took the paper, nodding a couple times before he headed back towards Kensi.

Kensi waited for him, arms folded over her chest. Once he was within a foot or two, she started walking, clenching her jaw to avoid saying one of a dozen nasty comments.

“So, it sounds like Evans got mixed up with a gang trying to make extra money, and got in over his head,” Deeks said as they headed back to the SUV. “The question is, was it friendly fire or one of their enemies.“

Kensi said nothing, for both their sakes. She didn’t need to embarrass herself, or unload her own ridiculous feelings onto him.

“Ok, what did I do wrong?” he asked after a few second, because he was always too perceptive of her moods for his own good. “You got that whole,” he waved his hand, “I’m mad but pretending that I’m not look.”

“I’m not mad,” Kensi insisted. “I don’t think it’s very professional to flirt on the job. Although, I suppose she was pretty. In a little sister kind of way.”

“Wait, are you jealous? Of her?” Deeks sounded completely surprised, which somehow made it worse.

“Of course not. I did think you were beyond picking up witnesses’ phone numbers,” Kensi replied haughtily to cover just how much it did bug her.

“Actually, she gave me her number, unprompted,” Deeks corrected. “And, you can have it.” He reached into his pocket, coming out with a crumpled piece of paper. “Here.”

Kensi held out her hand without thinking, the little ball of paper dropping into her palm. She stared at it in quiet bemusement.

“See, no reason to be upset.” He crossed his arms, one leg extended to the side, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

“I was not upset.” They’d reached the SUV now, but hadn’t made any move to get in.

“Sure.” He smirked, shaking his head slightly. He looked frustrated, which Kensi hadn’t expected. “When you figure out what you’re feeling, let me know. Otherwise, don’t get mad when someone flirts with me.”

Kensi stayed still, dumbfounded by his blatant acknowledgment of the topic they silently agreed not to discuss and the annoyance in his tone.

He moved towards the passenger side of the SUV, in front and added, “And just for the record, I haven’t been getting anyone’s number for a while now.”

Kensi stared after him, caught between wanting to prove him wrong and finally spit out the truth. In the end, she got in driver’s seat and said nothing.

***

A/N: Title borne of my own struggle to think of another word for the concept of jealousy.

[grandmaster-anne]

Published 18 November 2022

Excerpt from the article:

Our first encounter was during a state visit to Mexico. My cameraman and I flew with Queen Elizabeth and the Duke in a tiny light aircraft to visit an ancient ruin. We nearly didn’t make it. When we landed at the airstrip she was rushed off the plane to a waiting Land Rover. We jumped in the only other vehicle on the airstrip and gave chase. 

After a few minutes we heard a siren behind us and our little convoy came to a halt. It was a police car with the Duke inside. He leaped out and strode towards me bellowing: ‘You stole my f****g car!’ Queen Elizabeth stood by the roadside trying not to grin – and failing.

I recalled that episode when I recorded a long BBC TV interview with the Duke on his 70thbirthday. He grunted. He grunted again when I asked him why he had just sold his yacht, given how much he loved sailing. ‘Couldn’t afford to keep it,’ he said.

‘But you’re married to one of the richest women in the land,’ I said.

He grunted again and got rather cross at my impudence. The BBC cut that bit out of the interview. Wonder why… 

I suppose I must have done something to please Queen Elizabeth, though, because she invited me to one of her private lunches at Buckingham Palace. Obviously I leaped at it. Could it be that she was contemplating breaking all royal precedence and doing an interview? Might I be the Chosen One? 

My nervousness wasn’t helped by my exchange with a rather grand courtier who escorted me through the palace to her private dining room. I tried making light conversation. ‘I didn’t know Her Majesty invited people like me to her private lunches,’ I said.

He looked down at me. ‘No Sir,’ he sniffed. ‘Neither did I.’

The lunch was pleasant and my chance to raise THAT subject came afterwards when the two of us stood together drinking coffee in a side room. She listened carefully while I made my case. Then she spoke just one word. ‘No!’

Undaunted, I launched into the second half of my pitch. Again she listened patiently. Again she said ‘No’. Then a slight pause and she added: ‘What’s more Mr Humphrys, if one were ever to do such an interview it would most certainlynotbe with you!’

Obviously I dined out on that anecdote many times even though I knew the rules. What’s said in the Palace stays in the Palace. But surely, I reasoned, I could tell a story against myself. Big mistake. The next time we met was at a Palace reception.

She poked me in the chest (something her press secretary told me later he’d never seen her do before) and said: ‘Mr Humphrys… you have been very naughty!’ 

Nor did she forget. When I went to my last Palace reception I managed to lose the little ID card they give you to hand to the courtier who announces the guests being received by the Queen and Duke. She saw me fumbling and called out to the courtier: ‘Oh don’t worry. We know who HE is!’ She was not smiling. 

Better than being sent to the Tower, I suppose, and anyway it gave me another anecdote for my theoretically amusing warm-up when I was flogging my books. I was half-way through my Royal anecdotes at the Cheltenham Literature Festival when a voice from the front row interrupted: ‘That’s my mother you’re talking about!’

My fault, I suppose, for not seeing Princess Anne sitting in the front row. 

She got a much bigger laugh than me. How wonderful to have a senior royal who doesn’t take herself too seriously.

[arcplaysgames]

End of the line.

Yosuke has gone full protagonist mode, which is pretty necessary at this point.

oooooh my goooooood naoto. NAOTO. In my soul, in the heart of the cards, I am stepping up being Naoto and putting my hand over their mouth. NAOTO NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR YOUR SHTICK! It is very funny he pulls this again here when faced off with the progenitor of Japan.

If Izanami were not floating off over the void, Naoto would try to handcuff them.

Okay so, I have been baffled by the Midnight Channel all this time. Izanami says that the people who showed up on it were our own doing, that it was people's desire to see the people who got famous that informed who was the target of the Channel.

I.... frankly call full and total bullshit on this because: Nanako. It makes zero fucking sense that Nanako's only connection to the Channel was being anonymously interviewed by some politican, and that people subconsciously picked a six-year-old who's name and voice literally didn't even end up on the news to be on the Channel.

Literal and complete no-sell on this. I'm saying no, this breaks my suspension of disbelief entirely, especially in a game that goes to painstaking measures to slowly unravel a murder mystery with three different suspects.

Anyway, Izanami's main point is deep down humanity only cares about lies and falsehoods blah blah blah we did this exact same argument with Ameno-Sagiri, with Marie, and with Adachi.

You ain't shit, Izanami, I don't care, fight me.

And she finally obliges.

It's a transparent warm-up boss before the main event. And once again: Not as cool as the Nyx Avatar? Did we peak with the first Persona game I finished? Ah well.

Eventually she stops taking damage so Reverie is like "Ah time to use the macguffin Igor gave me."

Well the whole thing with Izanami was that Izanagi tried to save her but she was all gross and corpse-y so he abandoned her.

WEIRDLY? That part doesn't come up. I keep expecting Izanami to talk about that aspect of her own history, being left because the truth of what she became was too much for Izanagi, who turned his back on her when he saw the truth. I feel like I was constantly waiting for that part to come up, but it never did!

Okay whatever.

The problem with Izanami is that uuuuuuuh

Missed.

Missed.

EVERYBODY DANCE NOW-- missed.

Yeah like lmao my dream team is untouchable so this fight was a steamroll. Yosuke casting Youthful Wind, Yosuke, Kanji, and Reverie hammering with high DMG skills, and Yukiko on heals. It just wasn't remotely a challenge.

SO SHE HAS TO FUCKING CHEAT AND MURDER EVERYONE AS THEY KNOCK REVERIE OUT OF THE WAY. GODDAMMIT!

Of course Yosuke is the first. Obviously.

LITERALLY SCREAMED WITH LAUGHTER AT KANJI KICKING REVERIE IN THE FUCKING SKULL TO MOVE HIM OUT OF THE WAY. HYSTERICAL.

Yukiko gets got right after, so

Sucks to suck! Everyone died. Very sad.

[madarasgirl]

Twin Flames- Ch. 2

"My brother’s heart wasn’t the only one that stopped when we saw you."

Warnings: “sugar daddy” Madara x Nurse!Reader, romance, hurt/comfort, dating, handholding, masturbation, Madara’s birthday celebration

Words: 5596 On AO3

You were back in your territory at the hospital. It felt good to be back in control and not like a floundering baby hippo in the presence of the hottest man you’ve had in your life.

Today was just another typical shift. As always, you started off the day already mildly irritated at baseline and it built from there. But you and your coworkers always trudged through it somehow.

You had to remind yourself as your patient’s mother continuously wailed over her son’s state that while it was just another day at work for you, it was the worst period of this lady’s life. You patiently explained to her your observations about her son status, that while he was indeed still very sick, there was no need for immediate panic at the moment.

You exhaled in exasperation once she couldn’t see you. Coming down the hall to inform your charge nurse of the family’s request to be approved for longer visiting hours, you instead found a small group of staff huddled at the nursing station. There was an enormous bouquet with a card and a huge pile of individually boxed and decorated cupcakes from a nearby famous bakery.

Treats! Oh my, Madara knew how to get in nurses’ hearts. Quality treats, not just the usual cold boxed coffee from a bad franchise or the worst pizza the managers could get them. Hmm you considered maybe these gifts could be from Izuna too.

“Look! Y/N! Madara and Izuna remember you too! You’re mentioned in the card. Seems like Izuna is now fully recovered and they want to thank everyone for their care. That’s so kind of them. It’s been years.” One of the respiratory therapists filled you in and re-read the contents of the card.

“For sure. I still can’t believe Izuna made a turnaround. I was sure he’d be gone multiple times,” you replied. It was certainly a nice gesture, even if everyone was just doing their jobs. Their appreciation meant a lot, for instance, reminding you of why you went into this freaking profession to begin with. A part of your heart raged in contempt and disdain for the backhanded slap your local politicians gave in their latest mockery of an interview. Such disrespect.

You plucked a cutely decorated cupcake saying “red velvet” on the box from the table before disappearing into the staff lounge for your break. After heating your lunch, you noticed an unread message. Madara. Since the first date, you and Madara had been on several long phone calls, as well as texting daily.

Madara was asking if you’d taken your breaks yet today and if you liked the cupcakes. You let him know just started your lunch break and will have his treats soon. You thanked him.

“We could never thank you and everyone there enough. You saved Izuna,” his message read.

“We were just doing our jobs, Madara.” You replied.

“Even if you were just doing your jobs, the level of empathy and dedication you’ve shown wasn’t a requirement in the delivery of care. You’ve been above and beyond the entire time. Nothing we do in return will ever be enough.” You flushed, even if he wasn’t there to see it.

“Would you like to come over tonight? I can pick you up after work,” he offered.

Huh? “But it’d be so late! And you never know if I can even leave on time. Something could always pop up, and then I’d be even later! It’d be too much trouble! And I look like a raccoon after work. I woke up at 0500. And I’m usually in a poor mood after work and not sociable. I’d be terrible company!” You rambled. Oh my gosh. You’re going to his place already? Is he trying to sleep with you? The other part of your mind was more preoccupied with how awful you looked after a 12-hr shift.

“I will wait for you. Don’t worry, you’re not inconveniencing me. If you come over instead of us going out, you can shower while I finish cooking dinner. You can rest. I already have food prepared.”

You didn’t reply right away, so he added, “Just dinner, Y/N. No pressure for anything else.”

It was hard to argue with Madara, especially when you would love dinner and not have to scramble after work to figure out what to eat. Your only excuses were your worries about your appearance and visiting his house so soon. It wasn’t even like you were against going to bed with Madara, but you’d be exhausted and feeling raw before the date began. You agreed to see him again tonight anyways.

“Good. I will see you tonight.” He sounded pleased even if it was just a text.

The rest of the shift passed by uneventfully, until the end.

It wasn’t even your patient, but your friend’s in an adjacent room who started deteriorating with only an hour left in the shift. Of course, the witching hour. Caught up in the whirlwind of activity to try stabilizing this patient, you fell behind on your own tasks for your patient. It was 40 minutes after the usual time you’d leave the hospital when you were finished. Oh no, Madara.

You grabbed your belongings and rushed out to the hospital drop-off where you agreed to meet him and spotted him standing with his eyes closed, hands in his pockets and a leg crossed over the other.

“Madara! I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry to keep you waiting this long. I—“ a simple apology couldn’t adequately begin to describe how badly you felt.

He waved off your apology and opened the door for you. “I said I would wait for you, didn’t I?” Receiving such a sincere apology was strange, yet refreshing, to him. “Are you okay?” He suggested bringing you back to his place because he knew you’d be tired. He didn’t want you to worry about your next meal or going out. He didn’t mind waiting on you. The intention was to take care of you so you could rest, not to be a cause of more stress. Irritation tugged at his mind, but his features were practiced and smooth.

“I’m okay. Just really tired.”

The short ride back to his condo was generally quiet aside from a few more apologies while you were trying to settle in. Madara decided against bringing you back to his main residence in another part of the city. Partly because Izuna was there and he didn’t want to deal with him with you there. And another because this condo was close to your hospital.

He turned into his parking spot and you took an elevator to the top floor with him.

--------------- You stepped into a modern work of art. Minimalist soft leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the downtown lakeside skyline, a spiraling glass staircase that led to what was presumably a bedroom, high ceilings. A waterfall feature cascaded over a crystalline wall in the middle of the room backlit by artistic lighting. Wow, you paused to absorb the sight.

“Your house is beautiful,” you told Madara.

“Make yourself at home.” He held out his arms to help you out of your jacket, hanging it in the entrance closet. The heady aromas of heavy meats wafted into your sinuses and your stomach growled loudly. You were famished.

Madara smiled at you. “The washroom is this way.” He began to head down a hall when you informed him of your lack of alternative clothing. “I will find something for you.” He replied, not even breaking his stride.

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

You left the shower feeling slightly ridiculous, but much more comfortable. You were wearing Madara’s t-shirt and shorts, if it could be considered that. It was more like his clothing was using you as a hanging rack, the pieces of fine clothing much too large for your frame. The sleek silk felt luxurious on your skin though. Madara made no comments about your appearance upon seeing you, but he looked amused and pleased with himself, to your consternation.

“Dinner is ready.” He presented a spread of options. Your fleeting vexation vaporized upon seeing what he prepared, your eyes wide and salivating. “Madara, this is way too much!” The scent you nosed earlier was a roast beef tenderloin, too large a portion for only two people. There were also creamy mashed potatoes, some sort of fresh green salad, garlic bread, and an array of appetizers.

“Better to indulge in excess than insufficiency when entertaining. There is dessert as well if you would like.”

“I can’t complain. I am starving. May I help myself?” You were ready to load everything onto your plate.

“Go ahead. I’d be worried if you were left hungry. Would you like a glass? I heard you liked wine.” He popped open a bottle of red while looking at you with a knowing smirk.

Your eye twitched lightly, reminding yourself to mind your manners even if you were mentally and physically worn. Your plates filled, you dug in, accepting a glass of wine from your rather impromptu date of the night. The flavours and textures of every bite was heavenly. You closed your eyes and moaned, a part of you mildly surprised a well-off man like Madara could cook like this.

“I take it the food is to your liking?” He asked with pride.

You made a sound of agreement. “Yes this is amazing.” You continued to sate yourself on Madara’s kitchen creations. “Thank you…for everything you’ve done tonight…” You trailed off.

Adrenaline from earlier still kicked in your veins, but as your mind relaxed, your body now washed and fed after over 12 long numbing hours, you started to feel human again. You looked at Madara funny, an inexplicable feeling taking over you. You felt vulnerable with this powerful man who was still new to you, who still made you anxious and self-conscious. And this same man took care of you like you were precious and worthwhile. Cursing the emotional instability that wasn’t unusual post-shift, you suddenly found yourself in tears.

At first it was only a few silent tears you wiped away when Madara wasn’t looking. The feeling of being overwhelmed and out of your element however wasn’t so easily erased. It wasn’t even a horrible shift. Were you sad? Confused? Just completely worn out and depleted? What was happening?

“Y/N?” Madara asked in alarm and straightened to attention. He stood from his chair and tread over towards you. “What is wrong?” He replayed the events of tonight in an attempt to elucidate what could be the cause of your distress, if there was something he may have said or done as well. Madara brought himself down to your level and took your hands in his. He was equally befuddled.

Cheeks now flaming in embarrassment, you shook your head wildly. “I –I don’t know... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin this or be a bother. I shouldn’t have come here tonight after all. I can go.” Panic set in and you regressed to your way of evasion in times of emotional turmoil. But he didn’t let you flee.

Madara hugged you, distantly noticing the true size difference between you for the first time now that you were so close.

“Don’t go. You can let it out when you’re with me. It’s okay.” Madara was in truth also distressed. But the raging urge to comfort you remained strong despite such a feeling being a rather foreign sentiment in his normal life. His discordant emotions clashed, with the urge to provide comfort to you triumphing over his own unease. He held you more tightly to himself, stroking your back and softly uttering words of encouragement while you kept apologizing.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It wasn’t even like I had a terrible day. I just—“ You tried to remember your training. Despite your current tearful state, you were normally able to maintain your composure even when feeling wild panic during work emergencies. But here with Madara, it was useless. He broke down all your defences.

“There’s no need for you to keep apologizing. We are okay. You’re safe here with me.” Madara settled beside you. He continued to caress your head and back, running his hand up and down in slow laps. You took the intimate position as permission to burrow. Bawling, you delved deeper into his neck to seek refuge in his touch and presence. It felt like you were flayed wide open and he was seeing into your guts.

You didn’t even know why you’re crying. It was hardly the worst shift that could have happened, as mentioned. Perhaps it was the potent mixture of adrenaline, feeling you’ve disappointed the man you like, accumulated nursing traumas, stress about school, general exhaustion, and loneliness.

You stayed in each other’s embrace for an eternity until your feverish breathing calmed, your temple resting against Madara’s chest, lulled by the even, strong thuds of his heart. Reluctantly parting from him, you gazed up at his profile with puffy eyes and running nose. He traced your face.

“Are you still hungry?” He asked. You shook your head to answer in negative.

“Stay over tonight.” Feeling too raw to argue with him, you agreed and in an instant, Madara had you swept into his arms as he made his way to the glass stairs leading up. Madara carefully deposited you in the king bed lined with silken sheets like you were his treasured cargo. He indicated to you the washroom if you’d like to use it again and left you to disappear downstairs.

“Get some rest, Y/N.”

You didn’t see him again that night.

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

It was several weeks before you saw Madara again. You and him were respectively preoccupied with school and business in the previous weeks before the end of this year. School work came in waves. After submitting your final essay of the semester, you felt like a free woman. No assignments for a few weeks, no shifts to work this week, you were a new person. Madara had likewise been busy with year-end obligations, according to what you gleaned from his calls and messages.

The air was getting chilly. It was such a festive time of year and besides seeing your family, which you did yesterday, you wanted to spend time with Madara. It really felt you haven’t made as much time for each other as you should have. You parents had been elated to see you again, but incessantly prodding when it came to your love life. They became even more determined when you tried to change the topic.

You sighed. Good thing you moved out. They were so supportive and such lovely people, but there was no such thing as enough privacy when living with your parents as an adult.

Clutching your phone, you eagerly called Madara. You finally felt you could see him again after your incident. You wanted to see him despite that. He never mentioned your breakdown during the past weeks. He was the one who said the two of you were okay, that nothing between you was harmed from your display of emotion. You wanted to believe him. You haven’t known Madara for long, but it seemed to you he had always been straight-forward, even if he softened his words and tone for you.

“Alright. We can head to Yorkdale tomorrow. I have favours to purchase as well.” Madara agreed readily to your next date.

Bursting with excitement, you confirmed the date for tomorrow. Then you timidly asked if he’d like to come over to yours for dinner as well. To celebrate the holidays, but also his upcoming birthday.

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

Holiday tunes jingled in the air and the winter chill made your nose run. You bundled yourself deeper in a scarf as you and Madara made your way across the parking lot into the mall.

The atmosphere inside was electric. People swarmed everywhere, the first time they were permitted to shop and celebrate without restriction in two years. Holiday lights and décor flashed. The exhilaration rubbed off on you too. You were just happy to be out and about, not needing to worry about your usual woes right now. Not when there was so much going well in your life at the moment.

You grinned at Madara and grabbed his arm before you knew what you were doing.

“What did you need to get? Is it for a work acquaintance? Maybe I can help?” You battered the man with questions.

Madara smiled lightly at you, his expression going tender. He knew you didn’t realize you were almost dragging him along by the arm. “It’s actually for Izuna. I was thinking of a wool trench coat for him. He doesn’t like the cold either, surprisingly.”

You agreed to help with the search for Izuna’s gift, glad he was fully recovered. You’d learned through your prior conversations with Madara that Izuna was as obnoxious as ever, perhaps even worse than he was before the car accident when he was struck. Apparently Izuna took his recovery as a sign he must have been doing something right. Laughing at Madara’s recollections of Izuna’s troublesome adventures, you arrived at the store Madara had in mind.

You made Madara try on several coats for you even if he already had Izuna’s measurements. You hummed and hah’ed and had him turn to different angles for you. You were having so much fun. Eventually, you and Madara decided on a traditional tan coat that reached the knees. Classic, but posh.

As you strolled the mall, your hands brushed the back of Madara’s multiple times. His fingers slid against yours to grasp your thumb and forefinger, then came around to delicately wrap around your hand when you didn’t shrink from him.

You bought leather gloves for your dad, the gift for your mom already taken care of. He preferred a thinner material so he can grip the steering wheel better when driving, you remembered. You made Madara ‘model’ for those gloves too, roughly estimating the size your dad will require based on Madara’s hands.

Madara’s hand sought yours again as you walked. Feeling good about yourself, you laced your fingers through his. There were toddlers screeching in the background as they were forced to take photos with Santa by their parents, but it didn’t distract either of you. You could feel Madara’s fingers slightly twitching as he discreetly memorized your hand with his touch.

Something shiny caught his eye and he turned, bringing you with him. Sitting there in the display was a gorgeous necklace, several fat rubies in the center each surrounded by a halo of smaller jewels. They were set into a dainty loop of gold. “Do you like that Y/N?” He asked you.

Realization dawned on you, but by then, Madara was already leading the way in.

Omg you were so stupid! A sales representative bounded over immediately to assist, and Madara requested for that necklace for you to try.

You didn’t think of Madara as a “sugar daddy,” but what was he to assume when you agreed to a shopping trip with him?! You were mind-boggled. You couldn’t accept such a gift from him.

“Madara stop. I can’t. I don’t even wear jewelry. All I do is go to school or work. Or stay home. When would I even wear something like this? It doesn’t suit me.” You tried to reason with him.

He frowned. It was stunning on you. The neckpiece wasn’t your Christmas gift. He felt like buying it when you two happened upon it because he thought it’d suit you. What was the point of possessing such deep coffers if he rarely spent any of it for himself? He wanted to gift you pretty things. He also wanted to provide for you.

“Y/N, you don’t need to wear it frequently, but please have it. It’s beautiful on you.”

“You don’t understand Madara, I can’t accept such a valuable gift from you!”

“Do you not like it?”

“It is gorgeous of course, but—“

“Then there shouldn’t be an issue. Y/N, I want to, for you. It would be my honour if you accepted it.”

What do you say to that? You didn’t know. Madara nodded to the salesperson to complete the transaction and took you away.

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

You were subdued once again in the car, feeling unsure. What were you, a perfectly normal woman, doing with someone like Madara? Someone who can toss around cash values with more zeros attached than you’ll ever see like it was nothing? You were leagues apart. Worlds apart actually.

Madara sighed as he drove to yours. He took your hand and squeezed. He tried to express what he felt earlier. As he got to know you over the past months, all he felt was a deep goodness in you. He had come to care for you deeply. Even seeing you at your weakest only drove his compulsion to look after you and made him yearn to see you again. He understood the feeling of being so raw it brought you to your knees, like everything was falling apart. He didn’t think any less of you for it.

What would you think if you knew he bought clothes for you too, now stashed at his penthouse? Several articles of clothing he estimated were of your size so if you stayed overnight again, you’d have something more suitable to wear.

“When I’m with you, I’m just ‘Madara,’” he began. “We are equals.”

You looked to him in shock. “What?”

“I’ve seen inside you to who you truly are already.”

“Umm…I’m not sure what to say to that. That night when I cried isn’t how I normally am.”

Madara was frustrated with himself, feeling like he was talking in circles. He tried again. “What I’m saying is, I would like to be with you, if you will have me.”

You were reasonably sure your eyes couldn’t open any wider. “……I like you too…” You glanced away from him, now that you were pulling towards the visitors’ parking at your place. “But you can’t keep lavishing me with expensive gifts like you did today. I won’t have them!”

Madara was so relieved, he conceded. Somewhat. He smiled. “Then I will refrain from spoiling you excessively.”

You liked him. And wanted to be with him too. That was a good enough start for him.

 ---------------

You hadn’t known what to get Madara for a birthday and Christmas present or where to take him out to. He can buy everything himself already. So you decided to invite him for dinner at home. If it was extra special and you put much more effort into the meal, you figured he wouldn’t mind if you combined the two occasions.

Your small home was decorated with lights and a small tree, which was also layered with strings of lights and ornaments. Red and white pieces accented the space in various ways.

The first thing Madara noticed upon stepping inside was the fragrance. It was a complex mixture of florals, chocolate, and vanilla, but not overpowering. Then he noticed the plants. Dozens upon dozens of pots of exotic blooms filled the window and console tables. Some resembled elegant spiders locked in a row. There was one that only had a single reddish-orange flower, which looked like a butterfly. A monstrous plant exploding with small colourful blooms, like dancing ladies. That was part of where the smell came from.

“Hehe. I like orchids a lot, as you can see. When you have enough of them, there’ll always be something in bloom.” You were tremendously proud of your collection. You spent so much time and effort caring for your babies. You brought Madara for a quick tour around your small condo, exuberantly telling him snippets about several specific plants, showing him your bedroom and the second bedroom that also doubled as a den, informing him of your plans to personalize your home more in the future.

He silently took note of your interest in these plants and he studied several more closely. He acknowledged your hobby lent the space a serene, natural feeling. He was at ease here.

“They are beautiful, Y/N. How many do you have?”

“I have around 30-something adult plants right now! Plus the ones under grow lights in the bedroom!” You brought him back to the living room, the walls dotted with several framed paintings of still life you did years ago. Those were excellent too.

“Have a seat! Would you like something to drink? I have options other than wine too.” Still you referenced your blunder on your first date.

Madara smiled fondly and accepted a cocktail you whipped up for him. You owned a collection of proper barware. Seating him on the couch, you returned to the kitchen to finish cooking the dishes you prepared for earlier.

You bustled around the kitchen confidently, chopping extra ingredients, searing some meat, adding extra spices to a pot, artfully plating the dishes, the faucet turning on and off between steps. Madara discreetly watched you as he sipped his drink. You were joyously humming a holiday tune before randomly switching to sing a top-40s pop song. He marveled at the normalcy of being with you. It was extraordinary to him and he loved every moment of this.

Feeling like an addict craving more of your light, Madara came up behind you as you worked and embraced you. You froze. Madara was so warm. Like a furnace was searing you from the outside. Or did you turn the heat on too high? Maybe it was the stove, but it was getting hot.

“Madara?”

He mumbled something about needing this against the back of your head before releasing you and returning to his seat, leaving you perplexed.

“Umm…I’m almost done cooking. We can eat soon.” You went to open the window for some fresh air, hoping the winter chill will help alleviate your reddened cheeks. Darn your traitorous skin tone for revealing those emotions so easily.

“Take your time. There’s no rush.” Madara was a patient man. He can wait.

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

“As you told me that time on the phone, about that long-haired man you liked calling a buffoon. You told him off saying he was causing too many issues with his idealistic idiocy. I had something similar happen for me recently at the hospital too, with a family member.” Dinner was ready, many dishes littering the table, and you were excited for Madara to try your food.

“Hn? I didn’t say that,” Madara denied.

“You did! Those were almost your exact words. At least you said you did.” You laid the final dish on the dining table and invited Madara to join you.

“I wouldn’t speak so crudely, not in front of a client or a business partner.” He knew exactly who you were currently referring to.

“Eh. This is why I prefer texting. You usually insist on conversing over the phone, but I would be pulling up the evidence of what you said right now if we had this discussion over our messages.” You harrumphed at him.

“Texting is no way to have a proper conversation. I still don’t understand why you favour it.” He spooned a large piece of butter and garlic roasted lamb and eggplants, seasoned with herbs and a truffle-infused balsamic vinegar, onto his plate.

You looked at Madara like he was an alien. “Because I can answer at a time that suits me best. And I’d have eternal evidence of the things you said.” And because I can think about my words before I reply so I don’t sound like a complete fool to you.

Madara didn’t look convinced.

You sighed. “I’m a Millennial, it isn’t unusual to prefer texting over speaking live on a call. Actually, you’re a Millennial too.”

“Hn. I am older inside.” He closed his eyes to savour the taste of your cooking.

What an old man, you pondered affectionately.

“A year older now. Happy birthday Madara.”

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

“This is for you.” Dinner was over, much of it devoured by Madara, who seemed to truly enjoy what you prepared. He took out a wrapped package and handed it to you.

It was early, but you opened it anyways. It was a beautiful complete set of Japanese handmade Damascus steel knives. Madara’s company made blades, among other things, and these were top of the line. They were stunning. The waving patterns on the blades mesmerized you, the wooden handle graceful, and the feel in your hands was balanced perfection. You’d be using these extensively in the kitchen.

You teased him, "Are you already trying to invite yourself over for more of my cooking?"

He frowned. That wasn’t the intention of his gift at all. Based on what he learned about you, including your love for cooking, he thought you’d enjoy a more practical gift like quality knives than the jewelry he bought you today.

You snickered and let him off the hook. “I’m only joking Madara! Don’t be so serious! I love these. Thank you for such a thoughtful present.” You held the boxed set close to you. “I will use them every day. And you are invited to come for a meal again.”

He was quiet when he gazed at you again, pleased you adored your gift. And glad you were comfortable enough to jest with him. “You’re welcome,” he replied simply.

You led him to the couch for a movie of his choice after refilling your beverages. Madara honestly didn’t care what you watched tonight, but he selected something to humour you. When you extinguished the lights, he spent more time watching you watch the movie than he paid attention to the plot. It was dark, but his eyesight had always been good, and with the screen light, he was able to observe you well enough. You jolted at certain scenes, the jump scares so ridiculous anyone should have predicted something coming. Your eyebrows popped up before smoothing back to their original position.

You crept closer to him as the movie played, your posture rigid. Madara leaned into the couch, shifting his weight so he was also closer to you. He put an arm around your shoulder, but you were too distracted with scaring yourself silly to notice. A jarring scream boomed and you lurched, crumpling against Madara’s side as you continued to stare at the screen with horrified wide eyes through splayed fingers.

Madara would have laughed at your useless visual barrier if he’d been in his right mind. He bent down, tilted your face, and kissed you.

HUH?! One instant, you were freaked out over some un-killable ninja zombies with superpowers. The next, you were just as stupefied to be locking your lips flush with Madara’s. He brought a hand up to cup your face and rub his thumb to your cheek, his soft lips staying in place over yours.

The kiss went straight to his pants. He turned more and wrapped his arm around you, wanting you close, yet trying to keep the kiss chaste. Madara reminded himself to be a gentleman and not to let his hand wander from your waist. You felt something stiff poking into your thigh and you tense, pulling your leg slightly away while your lips stayed connected. He pecked you several times before taking your bottom lip between his again, running his tongue over it and suckling.

With your foreheads touching, you ran an uncertain hand down his chest, tentatively tracing a finger down the front of his pants with the lightest of touches. You pressed your thighs together. Madara chuckled.

"I will wait for you," he said.

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

Madara returned home. He settled into his bed while thinking back on you. You were radiant, beaming at him in hospitality, dressed as comfortably as you could be in sweatpants and t-shirt.

You’d never been so relaxed around him before. You had been buzzing around your home, expertly pulling different ingredients and tools from their assigned spots to create magnificent dishes for him while chattering and humming your favourite songs. You were so eager to be an excellent hostess; to ensure he was comfortable as well.

You were adorable. He leaned into his pillows, picturing your earnest smile as his hand travelled over his flat stomach. Further south. He palmed himself. And yet you were shy when you kissed. He could still taste you when you tensed and your eyes opened in surprise. You tasted like honey. So sweet and delectable.

He imagined you beneath him, with the buttons and ties on your clothing loose, hair sprawled over the pillows in his bed. It was glorious.

Madara tugged himself in languid strokes with only his thumb and first two fingers around the top and underside of his shaft. He resisted the urge to fist his member and pump hard, preferring to savour the image of you in his mind. He stroked your belly under the shirt, your clothes came off. He was inside your hot, wet cavern, your moans echoing through the bedroom as he made you his.

He spilled himself into his foreskin, holding it shut with his index finger and thumb to contain his release. His fluid flooded the small space, warming his sensitive head and giving him another buzz. Some of the bountiful load escaped his fingers’ confinement and seeped from the loose skin, oozing down his cock.

Madara couldn’t wait to see you again. He was determined to make this work.

~To be continued~

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

Notes:

Madara is an intensely private person in my mind, and quite easy-going as well with his loved ones. He prefers quiet places, like home. To him, a great time is time spent with those he cares about. He would not enjoy receiving a lavish gift in return. A gift that the person (S/O, family, or anyone he cares for) spent time creating with him in mind, like a special dinner, is much more meaningful to him, especially when it can be shared. He loves stuff like that, spending quality time and/or doing activities together.

[killed-by-choice]

Laura Hope Smith, 22 (USA 2007)

Laura Hope Smith had a hard start in life, but this didn’t make her any less loved by her adoptive family. She was born in Honduras and spent the first three years of her life in an orphanage before being adopted and then rejected by an American family. She finally arrived on Eileen and Tom Smith's doorstep at age 4½, with a black eye and dirty clothes. The Smith parents loved and cherished their daughter, and as an attorney who represented Smith's family in the medical malpractice lawsuit said, her death "ripped a piece of her parents' heart out."

In 2007, 22-year-old Laura Hope Smith was 13 weeks pregnant. Her mother says that she was very opposed to abortion, which may mean that Laura was forced or coerced to have the abortion. Eileen recounts the horrifying phone call: “It was 7pm, we had just finished dinner and settled down to watch the evening news. My husband's cell phone rang with Laura's name on the ID. We always loved hearing from her. Laura was so full of life, your spirits were lifted just by talking to her. Except this time it wasn't her voice. There was guttural screaming and sobbing on the other end by a voice I did not immediately recognize. I heard the words "Laura", "Hospital" and the worst one, "Not Breathing," and then "abortion". My brain tilted, my heart sank, and life as I knew it ceased.”

Laura had died during a legal abortion at the deceptively named Women's Health Center. The abortionist was Rapin Osathanondh, who failed to monitor Laura after her abortion. An assistant with no medical training, dubbed a "hand holder" by her boss, was assisting with general anesthesia and there was no emergency resuscitation equipment. Additionally, nobody in the facility knew CPR and they did not call 911 after attempts to revive Laura failed. She died on the operating table.

"My daughter was 22, healthy, and alive when she walked into that clinic," Eileen Smith later told news sources. "She didn't even have a cold. There is no reason for her to be dead."

Two days after Laura’s death, Eileen gave a full interview to the local newspaper, which was scheduled to be published on the day of Laura’s funeral. The article did not appear when it was scheduled, leading Smith to suspect that someone was trying to cover up her daughter’s death.

An investigation was started to find out what happened to Laura. Osathanondh falsified CPR certification cards, bought new equipment and changed the configuration of his Hyannis office to make it appear that a defibrillator and oxygen were easily accessible. This did not fool the Medical Board.

He was sentenced to a 2 1/2-year jail term with six months to serve. However, the plea agreement allowed him out on parole after three months when Osathanondh pleaded guilty to involuntary manslaughter and admitted he was reckless and negligent. In addition to the jail time, Osathanondh's sentence included nine months of home confinement (during which he must be electronically monitored and cannot leave his house except in emergencies or pre-approved medical appointments.) He was also banned from practicing medicine, teaching anything having to do with medical science or contacting the Smith family. The sentence also banned him from commenting on the case on any social media, with Facebook specifically mentioned.

Laura’s parents won $2 million from the lawsuit, but none of the money could bring back their daughter. It was devastating that after everything Laura had survived, her family would lose her to something advertised as “healthcare”— especially something that Laura herself was so against.

What was especially heart-rending was the first time Laura’s mother met her daughter’s killer: “I met with the doctor who aborted my grandchild, and who saw my daughter take her last breath. He would only meet me in a public place, without my husband. We talked for an hour and a half. Based on that meeting I believe I know what happened to Laura. He denies doing anything that caused her death. When we were done talking about Laura, I prayed, and asked God if there was anything He would have me say to the doctor. This is what I said next.... "The blood of my daughter is on your hands; the blood of my grandchild is on your hands; the blood of every life you have ever taken is on your hands," and I went on from there. He was silent with his head hung low.

“Parents search for clues in daughter’s unexplained death”, Cape Cod Times, Oct. 21, 2007