#and ive had my eye on a white tea for like a year

[marmorenshud]

lord help me I desire to buy loose leaf teas

#caw #there are some cheap ones in søstrene grene rn #i thought they were expensive byt theyre actially not #they might even be cheaper than grocery store #and ive had my eye on a white tea for like a year #i havent had white tea in so long #just black fruit tea #i do love fruit tea but #i think i prefer white tea #i know one of my old favs is a white fruit tea #altho it is hard to verify bc the cannister is so old now that its lost most of its flavour 🫣 #oops well ill still drink it #buuuuuut bc of the flavour loss i even more want to get new tea #also some of the cannisters are getting empty so i can store it somewhere properly 👀 instead of in the bag 😔 #gotta wait until at least September #cause i need to use my noney for other things this month lol

[grugruel]

Lust for Vampyr

Pairings: Paul Hill x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: A new handsome priest arrives at Crockett Island and youre desperate for his attention, but when he seems to be avoiding you, you do the only logical thing. Show up at his door

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: Blasphemy, age-gap (reader over 20), oral sex (f! receving), pinv sex, rough sex, praise kink, slight thigh kink? Little bit of edging and cock-warming, tasting of blood (vampire shenanigans), PRIEST KINK.

Id never really found any interest in attending mass, despite my parents insistent attempts to drag me along. I had been watching the old monsignor preach for years now until he left for his pilgrimage, leaving a blank spot for a new priest to take his place.

Paul Hill had he called himself, and it was like lightning struck. All of a sudden I had a new fevor for the faith and although I had moved out long ago, my parents were thrilled to say the least. Little did they know though, that a fire had stirred within me. I started with innocent glances, admiring him from a far, telling myself it was just because of his enthusiastic way of preaching. But then getting a thing for his tall stature, big hands and stark black hair. He had me cleching my thighs together as I sat next to my parents in the church pews.

He made me want to confess my every sin to him and eventually I did, when I grew desperate enough. Just for the chance to hear him breath in that quiet intimate way I had begun to crave.

We had met briefly, just to introduce ourselves, but thats it. I wanted to talk to him more though, learn more about him. So I started lingering after mass, telling my parents to go on ahead without me just so I could get a word with the new father. But he usually dissapered into thin air before I got the chance, seemingly avoiding me like the black death.

Which Is how I ended up in my current situation. It was after the usual mass, I had dressed extra nicely tonight. I was standing in the cold on the fathers poarch, knocking on the rectory door in my fancy dress, black tights and mary janes.

I felt out of place, I know I shouldnt be here for this reason, I know I shouldnt have dressed nice in an effort to seduce a man of the church. Shame crept up my cheeks, coloring them a bright red. But I heard shuffling behind the door, then footsteps coming toward me and immedietly regretted my decision.

What was I doing? This is so stupid, hes going to send me away, direct me back to my parents like a lost child. My thoughts came to a sudden halt when the door finally opened, and there he stood. Father Paul.

He was in his regular black shirt and white collar, wearing his tight jeans. His eyebrows rose when he saw me, 'Ah' he sighed, as if expecting me but surprised none the less.

'Father.' I greeted, smiling faintly, 'Youre a busy man, you always disappear after mass, its hard to find time to talk with you.' I told him, he smiled apologetically 'Unfortunately yes, Ive had some urgent business to atend to lately, its taken up all my past time.' He explained as his gaze trailed down my body, eyes lingering on my thighs, 'I- uhm. . .' he shook his head, completley lost in thought when a particularly chilly breeze blew by. He shuddered, apparently noticing the cold for the first time, which managed to break him out of his trance and making him pay attention to my own shivers. Noting the goosebumps lining my arms and collarbones. He met my gaze again, hestitating slightly before moving out of the way 'Its freezing, please do come in.' He said, smiling cheapishly. 'Thank you.' I whispered as I passed him, intentionally brushing against his arm and hoping that he would catch a whiff of my perfume.

He closed the door behind us and made his way to the kitchen, 'Tea?' He asked.

'Yes please.' I answered and he smiled to himself, pleased with my manners. He gestured to the armchair in the middle of the room, 'Please, sit.' He urged me, then put a kettle of water on. I nodded and sat down, crossing my legs.

We waited on our opposite ends of the room, an akward silence settling over us. Finally though, the wistle of the kettle rang through the rectory and he made us two cups and sat down on the sofa opposite me. He handed me my cup and our fingers brushed as I took it, our eyes met, lingering on eachother. But he cleared his throat and looked away, 'So what brings you here?' He questioned.

I rested the cup in my lap as I tried to come up with an appropriate answer. 'We havent peoperly met, I suppose. . I simply wished to get to know you a bit better.' I said shyly.

He smiled, 'Well ofcourse, thats reasonable enough. Did you have any specific questions in mind?' He asked, sipping his tea.

I blanked completley, what was my plan here? 'I- No, not really. Uhm.' I stumbled ahead blindley.

He chuckled, 'Youre never this nervous in confessional are you.'

My face lit up in shame, averting my faze from him 'Well father, I suppose it gets easier in the dark.' I said, sipping my tea nervously.

He chuckled, 'I suppouse it would yes.'

I nodded gravely, looking back at him and found that his eyes had drifted to my body. It took me by surpise, but pleased me grately, 'Father?' I asked, trying to get his attention.

'Mmhm?' He hummed distantly, not taking his eyes off of me. Perhaps I wasnt so far off in coming here after all, my tights and skirt seemed to be working. Gaining some confidence, I uncrossed my legs and his gaze followed them intently. God, all he needed to was look at me and I was his, completley and utterly. In a sudden surge of brazenness, I let the cup rest in my lap again, clutched in my hands. Then spread my legs wider and slid the cup between my thighs, still in my grip, so that the view of my panties was blocked by that alone.

His bresthing stuttered, a made a sound that was barely a gasp. He rubbed his hands over his face and combed them through his hair in an effort to collect himself. But it did not work, he felt himself being affect by you, in the same way he was everytime he saw you. Which Is why he had to run off, why he had to keep his distance from you.

He sank further into the sofa, liftning his lap to adjust his position and then sat back down. I practically drooled at the sight, a tingling sensation pulsing through my core. I had to close my eyes for a few seconds, making an effort to think straight, at least until the feeling had calmed down and I could talk freely again. I moved my gaze back onto him and our eyes met, communicating with eachother, exchaning desires we could never say aloud.

Both a bit distracted by eachother, I decided to take the bull by its horns, 'Listen, father. I-' I began, but he shut me down instantly.

'Dont-' he said, holding his hand out to stop me, 'I know. . . I know.'

My mouth fell open in shock and I scrambled for an excuse, but I could not find the words. Shame tainting my tounge. 'Ive tried to stay away, but youre persistent. And I told myself that you must be a trial from god, tempting me, testing my faith.' he said, sitting up straighter and looking into my eyes.

'A trial that I will undoubtedly fail.' he confessed. Relief surged through me, he did want me. I reached out to lay a hand on his knee, but he jumped up, walking backward until he hit the kitchen counter. He leaned against it and crossed his arms, ensuring that they could not reach for me. He was fighting his urges, his own body was betraying him. I stood up, walking around to sofa to meet him, but he shook his head 'No, NO!' he shouted, making flinch in response to his sudden outburst.

'Im sorry, but this- this cannot happen.' He gestured between us, 'Whatever this is.' he sighed desperately and I stopped in my tracks, because I knew he was right. But he was just meters away from me, he was in my vecinity. Free to do with me however he pleased, if he pleased.

I whined at the thought, beacuse it could never happen. I grabbed the back of the sofa and bent down to rest my forehead against it, in a desperate attempt to collect my thoughts. A quiet complain reverberated through my body, "Why did it have to be a priest?" I bashed myself, a whine escaping me as I shook my head slowly. I slid forward, resting my elbows on the sofa so that my hands were free to hide my face. If only I could turn invisible, just disappear. But I was too painfully aware of his looming prescence to escape the moment, he kept a safe distance, occupied with battling his own thoughts.

I burned hot, terribly hot, my face ablaze from the shame of my indecent thoughts and actions, in stark contrast to my body which was only lubricated by them. Every single nerve-ending was tingling in reaction of what I craved.

I was trying, but failing very badly to calm myself, when there was movement in my peripheral, it happened so quickly that I was sure I had imagined it. But it was too late either way, because he had appeared behind me. All I noticed was a small gush of air and then he was pushed up against me, hips to ass and I involuntairily froze.

A shuddering gasp came form behind me as he lrt go of his restrictipns and his hands made contact with my skin, one hand moved to hold my hip while the other explored the dip of my lower back, testing its limits. He rubbed a few slow cicles with his thumb onto my skin, seamingly mesmerized by the goosebumps that rose. He stopped, for only a moment and then flattened his hand against the small of my back. He pushed downward with his palm and as if he'd found a hidden button, my back arched, and my breathing faltered. It was as if god himself had touched me and I had to bite my cheek to stop from moaning.

A low intake of breath could be heard from behind me, as if astonished by what he could accomplish. And as he kept the hand on my lower back pushed against me, he strengthened his grip on my hip and pulled me closer to him. When completley flush, I felt him again. But this time, there was an evident hardness in his jeans and I moaned reflexively, I couldnt help myself. How could I be excpected to? The priest of Crockett Island himself was hard, for me. How I did not scream and beg for him to tear me apart right there is beyond me.

He hissed in response to the friction that the thin fabric of my dress created against the rough fabric of his tight jeans. I tried griding against him with what little movement his hold allowed me, which earned me a displeased grunt and smack on the ass in punishment. I had to cover my mouth as another moan threatened to escape me.

Visions of everything I've dreamed of him to do to me flashed through my mind, things I've only ever imagined while touching myself. My entire skin was on fire as I tried to collect myself, scarcly succeding. I could only manage a single word.

'Father?' whispering it quietly, I turned my head a sliver, as far as I dared. It was enough to make out his disheveld state, chest heaving from supressing his heavy breathing, his usually perfect hair fallen in stressed strands over his forehead, his shirtsleeves carelessly folded and rolled up, showing his forearms. Such simple things drove me absolutley feral, I had to restrain myself from shaking in anticipation of his next move, barely daring to move in fear of him retracting from me.

But he never moved and everything was quiet apart from his shuddering breaths, a result of him fighting his most carnal desires. I wanted to touch him, to caress his beautiful face, to feel his skin under my fingers, and although I loved the shallow feeling my impact had on him, I wanted it deeper. So despite my better judgement, I straigthened my arms and moved to stand up and turn to him. But he quickly stopped me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and thrust my body forward into the sofa, my hips colliding with the back of it as he shoved my face into the pillows, cushioning the force of it.

He hadnt wanted me to see him like that, as if I saw him it would all become real. His desires, his unholy thoughts, his betrayal of god. But I did not care, I had crossed that point a long time ago.

'Father, please.' I begged, voice muffled by the pillows. And there was a slow realisation in his movements as he loosened his grip on me and stepped back. Confusion crowded my already full mind, as he began rubbing the back of his head in distress, turmoil brewed inside of him.

'Im so sorry' he whispered. Oh. . . Poor father, he mustve thought I was begging him to stop. 'Please forgive me, I dont know what came over me. I would never want to hurt you, please know that.' he rambeled, meeting my eyes, begging for for my forgiveness.

I stood up, shaking my head in dissmissal as I made my way to the light switch, turning it off, darkness enveloping us. I searched for soothing words to reassure him, 'You could never hurt me father, im yours.' I said and made my way through the darkness to him, trying to locate him from memory, I reached out blindley in an effort to avoid colliding with something but he met me half way, seeing my struggle.

I did not question it as he laced his fingers with mine and led them to his chest, making my heart skip a beat. I slowly traced my hands upward until I felt his face, enjoying everything my working senses had to offer me. His scent and the feeling of his soft shirt and skin. I placed my hands on either side of his face, cradeling him 'Take me now, in the dark.' I said carefully and stod on my tiptoes.

I leaning into him and as he did not retreat, I kissed him once, tenderly. 'Nobody but us will know' I whispered against his lips, then moved to kiss his jaw, feeling him relax under my touch.

'We will repent in the morning' I assured him and then quated myself, '"It gets easier in the dark"' I found his hands, and moved them to my breasts 'Take me now.'

This time, father Paul did not hesitate. He squeezed my breasts as he met my lips forcefully, kissing and biting me like a starved man. One of his hans dove behind my back, while the other found purchase under my ass. He hoisted me up into his arms in one quick motion, I gasped, surpised by his strength.

He walked me to the armchair, setting me down in it and kneeling in fornt of me. He spread my legs with his strong hands, and laid them on each thigh, squeezing hard. His hands slid up my thighs until they met the hem of my dress. He met my eyes, asking for reassurance and I nodded enthusiatically, giving it to him. He continued moving his hands upward, the dress catching on his wrists and follows his movements. He leaned closer, kissing a trail along the inside of my thigh until he came to my core. He ripped my thights open and moved my pantied to the side, and as he already had me go-ahead, he dove right in. I gasped as he made contact with my core, his tounge thrusting inside of me. Tasting my very being, he moved one of his hands to my clit, attacking it feverishly as the other stayed squeezing the soft flesh of my thigh. He was feral, and I loved it. He hummed as he ate me out, absolutley loving every second of it. My moans became needy and high pitched as I grabbed his hair to shove closer, he did not protest. I came hard and fast, closing my eyes as white light blinded my vision, making me dizzy. As I opened my eyes again the room was spinning, and the father sat proud infront of me grinning. 'Youre doing so good, my girl.' He said and rose up to kiss me, I could only manage a smile. To lost in pleasure to do anything else.

He picked me up and walked me to the sofa, laying me down on top of it and puttin almost all of his weight on me. He rested his forearm close to my head, letting it support his weight and tangling his hand in my hair, grabbing it and gently pulling my head to the side. While the other hand traced down my shoulder and lowered the strap of my dress, to gain easier access to my breast, then kneading it greadily. His lips moved from my mouth and kissed their way down to my neck, sucking and licking at that tender spot above my collarbone. I moaned reflexively, which only spurred him on further. His hips were moving against mine, enthusiastically and rythmically with the rest of his body. Our closeness made his clothed erection rubb against my core perfectly. I moved my legs to stradle him, tightening the grip and bringing him even closer to me, then rutting my hips against him. The friction was delicious and that paired with the fathers delerious assault on my neck, his breath hot against my skin and his moans vibrating through me, had me close to coming undone right then and there.

My hands had found their way to his back, scratching and pulling at the fabric, but it wasnt enough. I moved my hands to unbutton his shirt, but struggled due to our position. I grew tired and greedy from not succeeding, so I removed his colar and tore his shirt open, yanking it down his shoulders, but did not manage to get it further. Displeased about ruining his shirt, he bit me, once, hard enough to draw blood. I gasped and he stopped, removing his hand from my breast and slid it to my neck, coating his fingers in my blood. Stunned silence had settled over us, apart form our unanimous labored breathing. He brought his fingers to his lips, tasting my blood and it was like he became a whole other person. If lust had not driven him before, it did now. I found it strange, but was to mesmerized by the moment to question it. He stood up, resting one knee on the sofa between my legs and began unbuckling his belt. I bit my lip from anticipation, the sight driving me mad, he looked positively devine. 'Have you done this before?' He asked me, I nodded my head in response, 'Have you, father?' He did not answer, his eyes were just drinking me in.

'Touch yourself.' He ordered, and I wasted no time. I moved my hands down my body, lifting the skirt of my dress with one hand and shoving the other down my panties, sliding it inside me to wet it then circling my clit in slow deliberate motions.

'Oh. . . ' he shook his head, 'Good girl' he praised in a shallow whisper, he looked at me like I was no longer a test from god, but a gift. He moaned as I touched myself, surely I was a sight in itself, my breast out, the skirt shoved up over my thighs and hips and my chest heaving from breathing heavily as he was towering over me. His tussled hair and shirt pulled down beneath his shoulders, exposing his chest and collarbones, his veiny hands working his belt. I closed my eyes as I felt myself coming close, and the sound of him drove me further. The belt buckle clanging, a zipper opening and the rustling fabric of clothes falling to the floor was erotic in a way I never could have suspected. White dots were specking the darkness of my eyelids, and a spring was tightening deep in my stomache. My breathing became frantic as I envisioned the father inside of me. I was a second away, when he snatched my hand out of my panties and I whined in frustration, the specks darkened and I felt moving around me.

I opened my eyes and he was below me, stark naked, holding my hand to his face and licking my slickness from my fingers much like he had done with my blood. 'Beautiful angel, you taste divine.' He sighed.

I moved the hand he was holding the caress his face 'Please father, I cannot wait any longer'. And he odded, sliding his hands under me and lifting my hips to pull my dress upward, once he'd done that I sat up to help him pull the dress over my head. He then lowered himself on top of me, pushing me back into the sofa and resuming his previous position.

'Im yours, only yours father.' I whispered and he kissed me tenderly as his hand traced down my body, feeling every curve on the waw down and pulled my panties to the side. He lined himself up with my entrance, teasing my opening by sliding himself through my folds. My breath caught, 'Please, please, please.' I whined desperstley, begging seemed to be the only thing I was capable of around him.

He suddenly slid inside and we gasped in unisome, our eyes met and we stayed like that for a while. No one moved, no one talked, we just admired eachother silently while he let me adjust to his size. He raised his eyebrows, as if asking for consent and I nodded eagerly, pecking him on the lips. He slid out of me completley, confusing me terribly and I desperatly clung my arms around his shoulders, burrying my hands in his hair to make him stay. But he only chuckled in response and kissed my arm lovingly, then slammed back into me. Setting a brutal pace, almost knocking the air out of my lungs.

I could not tell whos moans belonged to who, but amidst the frenzy he gave me a few short kisses on the lips in reassurance, then nuzzled his nose against my cheek and moved his forehead to the crook of my neck, whispering against my skin 'Youre doing so good, sweet girl.' His sweet words were a stark contrast to his hard, fast thrusts.

A few hours ago I was nervously getting ready for mass, dressing nicely in hope of the new priests approval, and now hes ballsdeep inside me.

He moved his hand to my clit, rubbing it in fast circles. I covered my mouth with one hand as a scream threatened to escape me, while the other tore into his back, leaving long red scratch marks and he hissed into my neck. Enjoying every part of the pain and pleasure mixing with eachother.

He straigthened his arm to sit back anf change position, but never relenting his pace. He raised my hips onto his thighs, placing one hand on my waist in a grip that will be leaving bruises on my skin, and pushing the other hand down on my abdomen while still circling my clit with his thumb. His thrusts hit that spot inside me that made my toes curl and it all became quite overwhelming, about to push me over the edge.

'Im- Im close' I managed inbetween breaths and he hummed, nodding as his own movements became irregular. I grabbed onto the cushions for dear life as I was tipping over the edge, electricity sparked between us, and all of a sudden I felt thunder tearing through me and he collappsed on top of me. His thrusts slowed down, allowing me to ride through my high.

'Good girl' he sighed and kissed my forehead as his ruts came to a stop and pride surged thorugh me.nHe stayed inside me, laying comfortably with me as oour breaths calmed together. I could feel his seamen sippering out of me, and I loved it. Because it was him.

'Will you stay with me tonight?' He asked.

'If you'll have me.' I answered, smiling as he kissed my lips.

#paul hill #father paul hill #father paul #hamish linklater #midnight mass #father paul smut #paul hill smut #john pruitt #monsignor pruitt #john pruitt smut #priest kink #paul hill x reader #father paul x reader

[wisheslost]

The white-eye warbles, the camellia blooms.

As a writer of Yae Publishing House, you have to visit the shrine for work purposes quite often— and it is on these shrine visits that you came to be even more acquainted with the yashiro commissioner, of whom you were previously known to only as that writer he had bumped into at the Irodori festival, in his sister's words; the most cliché way possible.

cw : mutual pining, friends/strangers to lovers, fluff, reader gets screamed at but its fine its not by ayato, no use of y/n, reader is technically an oc but is never referred to with a name. pls lmk if I should add more!

a/n : ive been meaning to post this but i kept stalling😭 sorry

wc : 5.4k

Kamisato Ayato is a smart man. The revered head of the Kamisato clan knows all there is to know about what's going on amidst the different commissions in Inazuma, but not a single clue does he have about the feelings you harbour for him, and who knows when he will?

You seldom had the opportunity to go to the shrine, and so, everytime you came down from the shrine, everytime you hurriedly made your way through Chinju forest, you did with the same intention in mind— to see Ayato. It didn't matter if he didn't notice you, just a glimpse of his face made your day better.

One of these very days, Ayato saw you pass, and much to your surprise, invited you in to have tea. In an attempt to be polite, and since you were done with work at the time, you accepted his sweet offer.

And so it continued — each time someone of the estate saw you passing by, they'd invite you in and offer you tea, while you tried your best to decline most of the time, sometimes it was just… not doable. Convincing Thoma was a hard job, but to persuade Miss Furuta to let you go was even more difficult. 

Now, Ayato wasn't always there, sometimes he was out for a meeting or was doing work in his chamber ( the same chamber you found yourself too unimportant to enter, the chamber that felt almost suffocating to you the one time you went in there. ) but even when he was, if he heard of you having came, he'd offer you to tea with the condition that you had to wait till his work was done. You loved his company, so who were you to deny it?

And perhaps that love you had for the time you spent with him turned into the love you had for him. 

You two weren't strangers. No, not at all. You bumped into each other during last year's Irodori festival, and in the most clichesque way ever, all your documents had fallen down, and being the gentleman he was, Ayato helped you pick them up ( obviously !).

Ayato found himself writing you a letter ever so often, and your reply to it that laid there among his official documents was the last to be opened of the day—but not the least, no, it was a way for him to conclude his day positively, or so he had told you. And as you two grew closer, you only found it easier to share your work with him, snippets of something you wrote that you were somewhat proud of , but that didn't make it into the published version of the story, a verse from a poem you gave up on writing, anything you thought he would like— you sent him, and eagerly waited for his reply. 

You'd read him some of your poetry time to time— each time you came by his castle of a house, and each time he simply stared at you until you finished, and would then ask you why you used a certain metaphor to describe a certain thing, to which you'd happily answer, or commend you for having thought of something in such a different way, and at the end, he'd pass a rather funny comment, even if unintentionally, such as one like "I want this framed on my wall." to which you could do nothing but laugh, while he simply gazed at the beauty the sky harboured, seemingly deep in thought. Why he always did that, you did not know, and you could only wonder, what exactly did he think of each time?

Is showing your unpublished work to someone outside the Yae Publishing House breach of contract? No... Well, not exactly. You had agreed to abstaining from showing anyone anything that has to do with your unpublished literary pieces, but you knew the publishing house wasn't ever going to publish the poems you wrote on your own. They would say things like the topic's too vague, the metaphors don't make sense, and that the writing didn't flow, whatever that meant. So, what you wrote for the publishing house was what they demanded from you— quite different than what you actually wrote. Alas, they don’t understand your words when they're not catered to them. But it's fine, Ayato did, and what more could you ask for? 

Actually, if given the chance, you would definitely ask for something more.

Kamisato Ayato understood social cues quite well, or atleast one would think he would, as that was a big part of his duty. So why he couldn't comprehend your feelings for him, was a mystery to you. But I guess understanding if someone likes you or not isn't really something listed in the skillset a Yashiro commissioner requires. 

Now, what he could and couldn't understand was not your problem, and would no longer be, not after you confess your feelings to him. You figured it would be easier to do if you just played it out like one of your usual interactions, and so you wrote a poem. A poem you'd innocently read out to him one of those days you happen to stumble upon his house, and with it, he'd finally understand. Finally understand you liked him. 

Something else popped up. A question much unappreciated. The worst outcome possible. “But what if he didn't like you back?” Well the poem isn't even for him then! It's from the point of view of one of my original characters— yes, that excuse is good enough.

But then the day finally arrived, you were finally there, sitting in Kamisato Estate's courtyard eagerly waiting for Ayato to be done with his meeting that had started just as you came, it was not often Ayato had meetings in his chamber, so it seems you just happened to have bad luck today. Sitting on the cushion, waiting for Ayato to be done, you found yourself making multiple revisions to that poem of yours, and in the middle of that, you were suddenly reminded of the meeting at Yae Publishing House you had this evening, but the thought soon slipped your mind as you thought of another line for the poem.

He had promised it would not take too long, but one hour had gone by just like that, and before you knew it, you were barely keeping awake, you couldn't help it, running on 2 hours of sleep from having worked all night, your mind was starting to shut down. Resting your head on the table was probably the first mistake you made that day— but one could argue there were plenty other mistakes made before that, such as not having slept in the first place. 

You usually came to meet Ayato around the evening, not only because his workload was lighter that time of the day but also because the publishing house's important meetings and discussions of the sort were held most often, if not all the time, early in the day. And that was precisely why you had forgotten about that meeting you had this evening. Was it the two hours of sleep or the anxiety from the whole confession thing? whatever it was, it was just making your day harder and harder.

It had been an hour and a half since you arrived at Kamisato Estate, the hour spent waiting and scribbling, and the half spent peacefully sleeping as no one bothered to wake you up. It wasn't that the staff of the estate couldn't care less about you, in fact, everyone around noticed you having succumbed to slumber. But who dare to awaken you, Clan Head's possible significant other?

It's true that Ayato was unbeknownst to your feelings towards him, but those at Kamisato Estate weren't. It was easy to tell you had a thing for him, much too obvious that every time you saw him in the eye your heart skipped a beat, and practically every one of the estate's staff thought you two were together, and just trying to hide it. To them, the way you looked at Ayato, was the way he looked at you. His, a loving gaze that never lets go of your frame, and a soul that so desperately wants to tell the whole world how much he loves you(— but hell, he couldn't even fathom telling you) and Yours, a stare that quickly tries to focus on something else when noticed by him, a heart too heavy with emotions— emotions that cannot find their way through speech, and are expressed only through words. 

And that serene and loving gaze was the first thing you saw being woken up, because in that whole house, no one except Clan Head himself would have the courage to wake you up. 

It's not until Ayato's voice echoes in your ears accompanied by the faint pitter-patter of the rain that you realise your noses are barely inches away from touching as he knelt down to your level.

“Oh, my writer, it seems you've slept most wonderfully in my absence, and on Thoma's jacket, huh?” his tone had a bit of sneer in it, as if he was jealous of the fact you had used Thoma's jacket as a pillow. And there was that— “my writer”, it stemmed from an inside joke, wherein once when he was transcribing a poem you wrote, you called him ‘my personal calligrapher’ which warranted the “That would make you my writer, hm?” and you knew it was a joke but goodness, he called you that only when people weren't around, and the way he said it everytime, Oh Archons!

But wait— You weren't supposed to be swooning over Ayato right now! You should be at the publishing house, attending that meeting— and so you rose up frantically to leave, apologies leaving your mouth rapidly,

“Lord Commissioner, I'm so sorry but I must go, I had an important work thing and I- I'm sorry! I should hav-'' and that is when you get cut off by Ayato's forefinger upon your lips, if that was an attempt to shush you- it worked. “Just go. I understand.” he said, and the reassurance in his voice and the slight smile on his face brought you right back to your senses.

And so you hurriedly put on your shoes to make a run for it, uttering one final ‘sorry’ to him, much to his dismay. And as you made it out the door of the estate, you heard Ayato's voice calling to you- “Take an umbrella!” to which you could only respond— “I'll be fine! The rain's not that bad!” because right now, saving face at the publishing house was far more important than a few drops on your clothes. 

Except it wasn't a few drops, you had greatly underestimated the power of the Hydro Archon, because by the time you reached the doors of the publishing house, you were completely wet from head to toe— and saving face was no longer present in your dictionary. In fact, you never even wanted to show your face again- and god, how many and who even were the people attending that meeting? because you were going to embarrass yourself in front of all of them right now.

The second you entered that room where the meeting was going on, as if your bad luck wasn't bad enough, you saw a figure too striking, bright pink hair.. fox ears.. and those eyes, those eyes that didn't take even a full two seconds to notice your presence and announce it to the whole room.

“Oh, look who's here! did the Yashiro Commission- er, reject you, my dear? or did you finally realise where your priorities should lie?” and right after she had said that, you could feel that theories about you and the commissioner had already began floating in the air of that room— whispers of a mixture of words like yashiro commissioner, head of the kamisato clan could be heard, and among them was that name a bit too familiar- Kamisato Ayato. How she knew about your yashiro commission shenanigans, you had no idea, but you weren't about to question her— Guuji Yae was no god, but people were convinced she definitely was omniscient, the way she never lacked information about the people she worked with. 

You could swear on your life that the stutter after the words ‘yashiro commission’ was done on purpose, and you'd live. What she was trying to imply wasn't too obvious, in fact, the way she said it, it could easily be interpreted as something entirely different— but what was also true, only it wasn't something you were comfortable with everyone in that room knowing. You couldn't manage to respond to that, ‘tleast not in a way that would allow you to keep your job. And so Guuji Yae's lips spoke again, this time out of pity for you. 

“But hey, better late than never.” she said, gesturing for you to come sit next to her. 

And so the meeting went on like normal. You were trembling terribly from the cold, dripping wet still but there wasn't anything you could do about it, and as the guy sitting next to you took notice of that and offered you his jacket, you could feel watchful eyes throughout the room landing upon you two, waiting for your response. With the amount of writers present in this room, you knew this interaction was making its way into a light novel soon. Thinking of a response was hard, accepting it would give birth to more conspiracies, but not accepting it would blatantly prove Guuji Yae's previous comment about the yashiro commissioner right. And before you could think of a response to that awfully nice gesture, you were snapped out of your thoughts by your editor, who was currently explaining something on a whiteboard, something you failed to understand because of the preoccupations your mind currently had. “(Name), are you even paying attention !?” were his words, and as if enough people weren't already staring at you, now the whole room was. A nervously spoken ‘sorry’ was all you could let out, and it wasn't even a proper answer to his question. 

The meeting dragged on for another 15 minutes— 15 dreadful, cold minutes. And when it was finally over and people were getting out of their seats and as if your luck wasn't already the worst, it only got worse-r as your editor called out to you right as you got up, “Not you. I still have to talk to you.”  Did he not see you shivering? Looking like a sopping wet cat? Did he not have an ounce of sympathy? 

As everyone else exited the room, you were forced to sit until who knows when. Guuji Yae was the last to leave, and before she stepped out the room, she called the editor over to speak to him, uttering something along the lines of what you thought was “Go easy on the poor thing, ok?” and was that poor thing in question you? most likely, yes. And good for that— he shouldn't think to disobey the owner of this whole establishment right? 

But he did. Or atleast, the words that followed after she left did not seem like him ‘going easy on you’ at all. 

The way he had his arms on the desk, the way his figure loomed over yours, that expression on his face… oh, you were about to be scolded big time.

“You, tell me. What exactly is your problem?” 

“I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again, I apologise.” You couldn't even make eye contact with him as you spoke, and while your attempt at an apology was well delivered, it was terribly timed. 

“If you were so fucking sorry as you claim to be, tell me, what the hell has been bothering you so damn much to arrive late to an important meeting when i had reminded you so many times the previous day!?” 

Oh. That was a first— never before had you heard him swear like this, and you're pretty sure it probably falls under top 10 things you shouldn't do if you don't want to lose your job, but who were you to say? your job was being held together by a single thread made of miracles. 

“I'm really sorry sir, it was just something personal- I can guarantee you, it won't ever happen again.” Ah yes, the infamous personal issue: the inability to manage a schedule.

“Did someone pass away?”

“..No.”

“Someone fall gravely ill?”

“..No”

“Family issues?”

“No-”

“Then WHAT the hell’s been bothering so much you show up late to a meeting with GUUJI YAE? Do you seriously not understand how fucking embarrassing it is? For the writer I had to practically beg for the higher-ups to not fire even though you kept being late and crossing deadlines, to show up late again?” He had yanked you out of your seat with his right hand midway through his speech out of the anger he possessed as of current, becoming physical when angry wasn't uncommon, but for someone who you always saw as calm and cool, for someone who always put up with you no matter what, the breaking point had arrived, and it was wholly your fault. 

But you understood. Understood the reasons behind his furious reaction, for he was right, it was truly embarrassing, because that thread made out of miracles that was holding your job in place wasn't made out of miracles at all— it was made out of your editor's continued efforts to keep you in this organisation. 

When you didn't, well, more like couldn't respond to him, and he realised the outburst he had just made, he let go of your upper arm, and his hand went back to the desk with his other arm, and as he regained his senses, looking down at the desk realising what he just did, he tried to apologise-

“I didn't mean to-”

“I-it's fine. You don't have to say anything.” Cutting him off was usually not something you would do, but at this moment, it felt right.

“I'm sorry, Please leave. And please, please don't tell anyone about this.” You could see the regret in his face as he sat down on his chair, head in hands refusing to make eye contact with you and instead choosing to stare at the hardwood floor instead, and you knew if anyone found out about this you both would be kicked out the publishing house together.

“I won't. Good night, sir.” and as you exited that room, you could hear a faint “good night” from your editor, who was too ashamed to even speak any louder. 

And as you left, you failed to notice the bright pink figure of the Guuji beside the entrance of the conference room, who had eavesdropped on that entire conversation.

________

It had been 11 days since then. 11 days of Ayato wondering whatever it was that you wanted to tell him that day, hoping you would at least write him a letter. But no letter came, and neither did you. 

While the Kamisato's days went by quite peacefully and ordinarily, yours were much, much different. 

Back at Yae Publishing House that day, the Guuji held your editor back to tell him to get you to write some sort of romance novel around this plot– A careless writer who has amazing skill in writing, but barely manages to keep her job due to the troubles caused by her family, and her editor who has to beg the higher-ups to let her keep her job, who's also hopelessly in love with her.

While the plot is good, you weren't too happy having it recommended to you in that way. Does the Guuji think you have romantic feelings for your editor? or is it vice versa ? 

Whatever it is that the Guuji thought, it didn't matter right now, because she demanded the first volume of the comic book that was about to be serialised be done in 15 days. With 11 days already gone by, and everything done on your part, you finally had some leisure time to enjoy, leisure time you were spending laying on the floor in front of the fan sipping cold lavender melon juice peacefully, almost on your way to dreamland.

That is, until you heard a knock on your door. When you went to open it, no one was there, or so you had thought, not having noticed the little kid dressed like a mujina at your doorstep at first, looking sleepy as ever.

“Oh, hello! What is it that brings you here to my doorstep, little one ?” as you bent down to greet the sleepy child, you felt a muscle in your back ache. Ah, the consequences of having the worst sleeping posture known to man.

“I'm not ‘little one’. My name is Sayu. I'm from the shuumatsuban, and Mr. Yashiro Commissioner sent me to relay an important message to you.” as she finishes her sentence, she hands you a little paper from her back pocket that says “I have something important to speak to you about. Come meet me.  -your personal calligrapher” 

 Oh. You're done.

What could it possibly be about !? What could Kamisato Ayato, Clan head of the Kamisato Clan and the Yashiro Commissioner have to talk about that would be important to you !? Whatever it was, it was scaring you. 

“Do I have to go right now?” as nervous as you were, you were also curious, what the hell was this man upto? and actually, was he even upto something, or was this just something to get you to come to the estate as quickly as possible?

“Yes, that's what he said anyway.” as she said this, Sayu sounded so, so done with you and Ayato that you couldn't really do anything. It seemed like if you didn't go right now, as soon as possible, Sayu would fall asleep right on your doorstep. 

“Alright, then, let us leave. But wait- just one thing-” and so, you went to your bedside table to pick up that diary you always took to Kamisato Estate, the one you wrote that damnee confession in- but, it wasn't there? surely you placed it somewhere else when under the influence of fatigue and forgot.. Well, with Sayu's patience running thinner- you should probably just leave finding that diary to your future self.

Sayu was not at all interested in whatever it was that went on between you and Ayato, she kept quiet the whole way from your house to the Kamisato Estate, except for a yawn or two in the middle.  

Your attempt at distracting yourself from whatever it was that Ayato wanted to talk to you about by looking at the flowers and the trees as you made your way to the estate was not quite successful.. for as the dew drops fell off from the roses, you could feel yourself perspire as well.

When you finally stepped foot in Kamisato Estate, you saw him, Kamisato Ayato, simply leaning on his balcony ledge gazing at the horizon, unaware of your resence and all he made you feel. You were quite sure this amount of sweating could submerge Jinren Island. 

Jinren Island being submerged aside, no one was there at the estate except Ayato. Miss Furuta wasn't standing at her usual place, Koharu wasn't busy cleaning something that doesn't even look like it needs cleaning, and even Mr. Madarame was nowhere to be seen.

As you were busy analyzing the current state of the ground you were standing on, Sayu's voice spoke—

“Mr. Yashiro Commissioner, I brought them.” 

Ayato turned around, his eyes finally meeting yours after what seemed to be an eternity to him. 

“Oh, thank you Sayu. You may go now.”

As the man came to sit down, he signaled you to sit near him as well, contrary to how you would usually sit, on the opposite side of the table. “Sit here, you sure look like you need to.” his voice beamed, and you could feel your heart burst into eight thousand pieces upon hearing him talk to you again. 

While you were most delighted to finally talk to him again, you couldn't help but wonder where the staff went, therefore naturally, you asked him as he poured his tea from the kettle into his little cup,

“So… where's all the staff gone?” 

“Disappointed no one's here to give you free snacks, huh? Don't worry, I'm quite generous when it comes to my food, Here, want a sip?” and as his sentence came to an end, he offered you a cup of tea by raising it to your lips, which you pushed away as politely as you could. “You know I don’t drink tea, right? You asking me multiple times isn't going to change that..”

“Well, it was worth a try.”

“But seriously, where are all the staff? in all my days spent procrastinating here, I've never seen it so empty..” 

“I told them to take a break as I was going to have an important person over to discuss some very important, urgent matters, and for that discussion, I need some privacy.”

“But then why not have the meeting in your chamber? Enough privacy there, no?”

“Of course, of course, but you see, this client of mine, they think my chamber is really stuffy and feels suffocating. So naturally, I decided to have said meeting here.”

“Oh, so uhm, when is this meeting of yours? considering the staff are already gone..It must be soon, yes?”

“Oh yes, yes.. Infact, for the staff, the meeting has already started.”

“Wait.. Am I..?”

“Go on, you're almost there.”

“Jackass, I'm the ‘super important’ person you were meeting, huh?”

“See, this is exactly why this meeting is being held. The way you address me, the way you talk to me.. it's not exactly the usual way I'm addressed.. Not even my friends behave this way with me.”

“You have friends?”

“Of course I- See ! that's my point, you talk so nonchalantly to me, what do you think people would think of you as when they see you acting like this in public ?”

“Disrespectful? Discourteous? Rude? Impolite? Ill-mannered?”

“My beautiful Oxford dictionary, that's not what I meant. Don't you think people would look at us joking around and think of us as lovers ?” 

As soon as you heard that “beautiful”, oh goodness, you were done for. you had fallen so deep in love with this man it was beyond any find and rescue team to help you. you couldn't make an answer to that statement, no, you were busy in dreamland wondering if all these people at the estate saw you and Ayato talk to each other and thought, “oh, these two definitely have something going on.” 

Snap. one snap of his fingers in front of your face, and you were thrown right back into reality. 

“So?”

“Uhm, we don't go out much, actually, we've never gone out together, so that's not a problem as far as I'm concerned.”

“The way you say it.. it's almost like you're mad we never go out.”

“Well, we don't. I've never even stepped foot on the east side of the estate.. let alone go anywhere with you.”

“Hm? Let's go there then.” near the end of his sentence, he placed his teacup down and got up, walking to the same place he was standing before you came here, and so you followed. 

As he leaned on the ledge of the balcony, his body facing the horizon, he looked at you, hands crossed, yours facing him. 

“So? What do you think, are we qualified to go out now?” he spoke, turning towards you, and as he turned, he looked up at something and then smirked, his eyes returning to you. Goodness, he looked so hot— but wait, what was he staring at? before you could fully turn your head to face behind you, his left arm quickly got hold of the side of your neck that you were about to turn, “Why are you-”

“Answer my question first.” throughout this exchange, his hand was still there on your neck holding it from turning around.

“Yes, we can go out together, but what the hell is behind me that you don't want me to see?”

Leaning in towards your ear, he spoke. And to say his lips were one breath away from touching your temple is an understatement. “You remember the thing i told you about the staff, right? Well, they've all gathered near the first window of the second floor, and are currently looking at us, waiting for something to happen.” while he said all this, he was staring daggers into Thoma's soul, who, being the one who accidentally spread the rumour that Ayato was going to confess his feelings for you today, was awkwardly smiling at the slightly pissed off clan head, whose confession of love was about to turn into a source of entertainment for his staff, and of course, something to tease him about later for his sister, also present with the staff. Finishing his sentence, he finally pulled away from you. 

“But.. waiting for what to happen..?” trying to get the butterflies in your stomach to calm down from what just happened, you focused back on the conversation. 

“Waiting for me to confess.”

 Stop the clock. He didn't mean confess his love, did he? Surely there's no way.

“C-confess what!?” 

“That- ah, I can't believe I'm saying this in such an ordinary way, but listen, I'm not a man of poetry, or atleast, writing it. I tried to, believe me, but it just looked so awkward to me, nothing compared to what you wrote for me in your diary-”

“YOU READ THAT POEM?”

Ayato put his hands on your shoulders, and in an attempt to calm you down, spoke forth. 

“Hey now! Let's calm down, alright? I didn't read anything beyond the 9th line because Ayaka snatched it away from me, so please, don’t be mad. I should have realised I was in no place to open someone else's very personal diary, and I don't even know if that poem was meant for me, but I just-”

“No.. Ayato, you're.. You're too sweet. I'm sure you had no ill intentions, I only freaked out because it was so surprising, and since it was indeed meant for you. And you can read the whole poem afterwards, but for now, please, please go on about what you were telling me.”

“I can't just go on like this, not after you've told me you wrote about me- Me, of all people! Me, after you've written about the sun, the seas, the sky, the surreal- after all that, you wrote about me. And so beautifully, too, I can't go on, not with my life, not with whatever it was I originally wanted to say.” his expression was one you had never seen before, so full of innocence, he looked like a wet puppy in the rain, like he'd die of a cold if you didn't shelter him right away, and you could swear you saw tears welling up in his eyes, and all this because you wrote about him, all this because his feelings were returned, all this because he finally felt loved. 

You couldn't even respond, hell, you couldn't even choke back tears, and so as you were processing his words, you wrapped your arms around his torso and went in to hug him, sobbing into his chest. He returned the hug, one arm around your shoulders, and one running over your head, a tear dropping on your head as he did.

When you both pulled away from the hug, it was just laughter and wiping away each others’ tears, until you both were staring at each other fondly. And then Ayaka's voice could be heard from the back— “I told you they wouldn't kiss!” followed by a subdued Thoma, “my mora..”

“You know we can hear, right? And betting on my love life? Seriously?” As Ayato turned to reply to his sister, the staff scurried away, not wanting to be noticed by him, and as amused as you were, you didn't join in on the conversation, instead choosing to pull Ayato's collar towards yourself and pulling his lips onto yours. Before Ayaka could respond, Ayato leaned in to the kiss, cupping your face with his hands, and you could feel him smirk a bit.

He chuckled while pulling away from you, turning to a very surprised Ayaka and Thoma, mouths open in bewilderment,

“So... I guess Thoma wins?”

#[ mine 🐳 ] #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact ayato #kamisato ayato #ayato kamisato #ayato x reader #ayato x gn!reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #Kamisato ayato x reader #gi ayato #ayato x you

[stellar-skyy]

ALL I WANTED WAS YOU — Furina x reader.

i. SUMMARY: [Name] is scheduled to perform at Fontaine's Christmas Show, and there's only one person they want in the audience. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Use of pet names (dear, darling, love), mentions of food, reader is a singer. iii. NOTES: Fluff, very mild angst, singer!reader, established relationship, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used 2.1k words. iv. A/N: This is my entry for the @2023gisecretsanta gifted to @the-white-void! I hope you enjoy, White!

A layer of ice had settled across the streets of Fontaine overnight, leaving the buildings awash in snow and frost. The weather had pushed most of the citizens indoors in search of warmth, where the battering cold could not touch them and the fire could heat up their frozen bones. Nonetheless, Furina and her partner strolled along the pathway, hands conjoined, perfectly content in the chill.

“Extra! Extra!” A young newsy called out behind them, waving a rolled-up paper in his hands. “Fontaine’s annual Christmas Show is only days away! Read all about the confirmed acts, as well as potential surprise acts!”

[Name] tilted their head in curiosity as they passed, straining to listen to the boy’s faint rambles about the newspaper's theories on who might be performing that night. Some of them were delightfully wrong, missing the mark entirely, but some of them—

“Could the singer [Name] [Last Name] be one of the performers? Read on why we think so!”

Some were right.

“This morning is beautiful,” Furina sighed, letting go of their hand to cling to their arm. She pushed her cheek against their shoulder, making a small noise in contentment. “I adore winter. There’s nothing quite like waking to snow outside, with frost creeping up your windows, and a pleasant chill in the air. Making a warm cup of tea to stave off the cold… it’s lovely, wouldn’t you agree?”

They hummed in concurrence, while beside them, a shivering couple looked over at her incredulously. Furina was oblivious, turning her eye to the posters advertising the Show.

“And of course, the Christmas Show.” Furina sighed mournfully. A worried glance was shot her way.

“You’re not a fan of the Show?” They ask carefully, trying not to let disappointment flow through their tone.

Furina laughed lightly. “Oh, I enjoy it plenty, on the occasional year I attend. I simply don’t care for hearing about it every time I set foot out of my home.” She paused, adding “Though, the programme is supposed to be good this year. I keep hearing about some big names that might be joining.”

It wasn’t just her. Fontaine's people could hardly turn a corner without hearing another rumour about who might be showing up that night, with each guess being more illustrious than the last.

Their excitement wasn’t unfounded: the lineup was star-studded, featuring Lyney and Lynette opening the show with a brand-new performance. The famed director Aurelie’s former troupe was even speculated to be re-uniting for a show in her honour, but with the organiser’s insistence on keeping part of the show a secret, rumours stayed rumours.

The organisers had been so tight-lipped about the surprise acts, that very few were aware of [Name]’s confirmed appearance. They were scheduled as the second last act of the night, in a slot reserved for the best of the best; an honour that came with a monumental amount of pressure. With the buzz surrounding who might be performing, there was a certain air of expectation that followed.

Suffice to say, the nerves were settling in.

“Did you want to stop and get a drink?” They motioned towards a quaint little café tucked into an almost hidden corner of the street, like it was placed there as an afterthought. “I have something important to ask you.”

“Of course,” Furina rubbed her cheek against their shoulder as they walked, much like a cat. “I’m all ears, love.”

The pair settled in a small table at the back. Inside, the air was crisp and warm, in stark contrast to the cold wind that scraped against the door and windows. A faint tune echoed from a gramophone, opposite a display of pastries that rested on the countertop.

Furina eyed the treats with the hunger of someone who hadn’t eaten in weeks before getting tossed into a bakery. Rows of rich chocolate eclairs, paired with tiny strawberry tarts, next to colourful macarons and cakes dripping with icing... it was enough to give them a toothache just looking at it.

“Furina?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m paying attention, darling.” She paused, gaze drifting back to the display. “Though, a strawberry pastry might help me focus even more…”

“Furina.” They near whine.

“Alright, alright.” She chuckled, turning her attention directly to them. She rested her chin on her hand, smiling lightly at them. “What’s on your mind, love? You’re practically shaking with nerves.”

“I… I need to ask you something.”

“Mm, you said that.”

“It is… important.”

“That too.” Furina squinted at them, her airy expression fading to make way for something far more serious. She reached her hand across the table to cup their chin, lifting it to meet their eye. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Her eyes drifted across them, gentle and sweet and completely unguarded. It was a wonder, how quickly that gaze soothed the tension in their shoulders and let their breathing slow to a steady pace. One look from her was enough to settle all the doubts that haunted their mind, stripping away their worries and leaving them bare. There wasn’t a need for words of reassurance or flattery; not when she looked at them with such soft eyes.

The buzz of fear lingering in the back of their head began to fizzle out, to make way for a rush of confidence. They seized the feeling, clasping their grip around the edges of it and—

“I want you to come to the Christmas Show.” They finally blurted out.

Furina stared at them like they’d sprouted horns and turned into a mitachurl. “…Alright. I must admit, with you so nervous I thought you were going to ask something more… important. I was already considering going, but if you’d like to go together—”

“No, no!” They shake their head hurriedly. “Not like that!”

She blinked back at them. “I’m afraid I don’t understand…”

“I’m going to be performing,” They explain, a touch of nervousness seeping through. “It’s this Sunday, it starts at six at the Opera Epiclese.”

“You’re performing?” Furina gasped lightly. “Oh, why didn’t you tell me! I would have made sure I was available right away!”

“I guess… I was just… worried…” They trailed off. It didn’t explain anything, but she caught on within moments.

“You were… worried?” Furina blinked, her features shifting in puzzlement. “About what I’d think? You thought I would judge you?”

A shift in their posture, and a careful aversion of their eyes was all the answer she needed.

“Oh, my dear,” She breathed a sigh, running her gloved hand down their cheek, stopping with one finger hooked under their chin. She gently tilted it upwards to face hers. “Darling, I love you. And I cannot think of anything that would change that fact. I don’t care if it’s something trivial, or if Celestia itself was after you. You never have to worry about me judging you.”

She wished she could murmur each word into their skin until they were branded across it like tattoos, each one a reminder of how much she loved them.

“I’m going to come to your performance,” She promised. “I’m going to sit in the best seat, and I’m going to cheer so loud, and clap until my hands hurt. And it will be because you did amazingly!”

“Thank you,” A smile washes over their features.

She brings their hand to her lips, kissing the words against their skin. “You are so welcome, love.”

A lump in their throat made itself known. Their nervousness had posed a new problem. In the days pondering between whether or not they had the courage to ask her to come, the build-up of excitement had left tickets few and far between. Most seats were already booked, with the only ones left being positioned right at the back where one would have to squint to see the front of the stage.

“It might be hard to get good tickets now.” They admit sheepishly. Furina only giggled into their hand.

“Don’t you worry, dear. I might not have my titles anymore, but they'd hardly let anyone else in my booth. And even if they did—I have my connections."

───── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ─────         

Furina’s ‘connections’ did wonders in reserving the top booth just for the two of them. Once [Name] had managed to squeeze past the bustling crowds and through the hallway leading to the private section, they were treated with two plush chairs: one empty, and one seating a smiling Furina.

She beckoned them to sit, intertwining their hands together as the lights dimmed and a hush descended over the opera house.

The first half of the show was as breathtaking as the promotion had promised. Lyney and Lynette’s act had the audience mesmerised, the acting troupe performed a touching show about the spirit of the holiday, and by the time the lights were turned back on and the intermission was announced, the audience was already raving. They could only imagine the reviews in the Steambird the very next day, promising a spectacular show that was a once-in-a-lifetime event.

As the intermission began, so did their cue to head backstage to prepare for their performance. Before they could move, Furina had already tugged on their hand sharply to pull them towards her. She planted kisses across their cheeks, over their nose and forehead and finally meeting their lips.

“Good luck,” She whispered against their mouth. “I believe in you.”

They slid into place backstage, moments before a loudspeaker announced the end of the intermission.

“And now, esteemed guests… please welcome to the stage [Name] [Last Name].”

All the people gathered behind the curtain shot them grins and whispered encouragement as they passed. Lyney smiled warmly and tipped his hat in a mock bow, while Lynette gave them a polite nod. The frazzled organizers even took the time to spit out a hurried “Good luck!” before they went back to quietly arguing amongst themselves.

Their steps slowed, their hand caught the edge of the curtain. It was soft, velvety under their fingertips. In each rehearsal, they’d run their fingers absent-mindedly along the edge while waiting for their cue. With practice after practice, the feeling became like second nature.

The familiar texture was enough to ground them to the stage, pulling them firmly into the present. They continued; stopping in the dead centre of the stage where a tiny marker was etched out onto the ground. They barely had time to fix their collar and adjust their pose—feet planted firmly on the ground, chest held high, hands folded behind their back—before the curtains drew aside.

Light hit their eyes first, before the rest of the room appeared.

The audience stared in anticipation. The opera house was dead silent, with all the crowd waiting with held breath for their performance. With the spotlight shining directly at them, they had to squint to see more than a hazed blur of faces in the depths of their vision.

The music started, and a thread of nervousness began weaving through their chest. There were countless eyes fixed on them, but they were yet to meet the ones they were looking for. The thread tightened, and a flicker of unease flashed through their mind. Where was she?

One more glance was tossed into the crowd, higher this time, until they saw the top booth.

And there she was: Furina, grinning unabashedly with adoration pouring from her expression. She caught their eye, leaned forward in her seat, and blew a kiss. The simple gesture was enough for a smile to pull at their face, just as the music started to swell.

They opened their mouth, and began to sing.

───── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ─────         

“[Name]! You were incredible!” A voice called out. They could hardly put it to a face, with the amount of people crowding around them.

“They were, weren’t they?” Lyney cut in smoothly, subtly moving to stand almost in front of them. It was a welcomed gesture, taking the attention off them and moving it onto someone who was very much used to the spotlight.

The performers had agreed to gather in the foyer after the Show to talk to audience members, accept congratulations, and sign autographs in Lyney and Lynette’s case. [Name]'s intentions were far less in favour of the audience—or, most of the audience at least. They kept their eyes sharp, scanning across the crowd for any sign of blue.

“Hey! Excuse me! Please, let me through—”

They turned, blinking in surprise as a blur surged towards them. It caught them around the waist and pulled them into a tight embrace that lifted their feet off the ground.

“You. Did. Amazing!” Furina squealed, spinning them around. “Did you hear me? I was cheering the loudest.”

Laughter, wild and carefree, tore away from their chest. Somehow, they couldn’t bring themself to care about everyone looking at them, only the girl in their arms.

“Merry Christmas,” Furina said softly. Their only answer was a kiss.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #gixrsecretsanta2023 #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #favoniuslibrary #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin furina x reader #furina x reader #furina x gn reader #furina x gender neutral reader #furina fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Now You're Everything [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@unheartbreakable) Center (@milla984) Right (@poseidonsarmoury)

Prompt: It’s been a long time coming and after an emotion-heavy year, Aaron finally shows the BAU-reader how much he wants them. 

Pairing: Aaron x fem!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns. 

Category: fluff/comfort/minor whump. 

Word Count: 9.9K

Content Warnings: Light swearing and drinking, mention of kidnapping and torture [Hotch], Hospitals and IVs, Minor unwanted advances [reader]. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi, loves! Happy New Year's Eve! This is for my love @silk-spun. It is the second fic I’ve written based on my December Prompt List (linked) Dialog prompt #6: “Let’s skip the office party and go out on the town instead!” I changed the wording a bit, but this is basically all the times Aaron and the reader don’t have the right words to confess, and the one time they don’t need them to get their message across. There is one short mention of Aaron being tortured on a case, and I plan on turning that into a full fic soon. So look forward to that (?). I hope you have a great evening and stay safe. If you like this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List wil all stories 

_y/n_ = your name 

_y/l/n_ = your last name 

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color 

_y/f/c/b_ = your favorite caffeinated beverage (i.e. coffee/tea/energy drinks)

_y/l/f/d_ = your least favorite designer 

_y/f/d_ = your favorite drink 

Aaron looked around the room which was shockingly full for it being 9:30 p.m. He scanned the groups of people clustered around tables and sitting in chairs talking. Some had plates of food, others glasses of alcohol or sparkling soda. The person whom the supervisory special agent was looking for wasn’t there. He wondered if she was using the lady's room. The last time he’d seen _y/n_ she was being cornered by Freddy from finance. Aaron hadn’t attempted to listen in on the conversation because it was mostly Fred talking to _y/n_. It seemed the pox-faced man wasn’t letting _y/n_ get a word in edge-wise. That sounded like a personal hell that he would avoid at all costs. He had to do enough wine-ing and small talk at the annual Winter Holiday party as it was. He’d talked to Strauss, the Director of the Pentagon, and all the other heads of teams that had made it to Quantico for the party. He’d heard about so many cases that they started to blend together, but for Aaron, nothing would top his team or the crimes they solved. Hotch listened to Bernard Shaw, head agent for the Tax Fraud department, as the white-haired man droned on about a new loophole for the Cayman Islands and how much of a pain it had been that year. Aaron looked over his team with a soft appreciation for how hard they all worked, how they had gelled to feel more like a family than just profilers doing a difficult, dangerous job. There was Derek, who could always be called on to help with anything. The built agent was talking to Spencer. The genius had been so young when he joined the team. Aaron had taken on a fatherly role with Spencer without even thinking about it. Before Jack had ever been born. Rossi had just taken Aaron’s place with Strauss, and they were talking about some half-shared hobby or new bureau policy. Both of those conversations looked the same. Hotch caught Dave’s eye and the older man gave a small shrug, indicating, “This is what the holiday party is for. Making nice one last time before we get a break.” Aaron gave a small nod of agreement before turning his attention back to Shaw. The man hadn’t noticed as Aaron’s attention had waned and then returned to him. Hotch cleared his throat and said, “I’m going to refresh my drink, but it was good to catch up, Bernard, and good luck in dealing with the fallout of S.B. 103b.” Bernard nodded, and the two men shook hands before Aaron walked back to the table with the alcohol on offer. As Hotch poured himself a glass of white. He guessed at how much the liquor alone for this party cost. His guess was around 2,000 dollars. The FBI didn’t ever recommend frivolous spending, but even they realized that sticking a hundred agents and department heads together required the good stuff. 

As Aaron sipped on the cool chablis, he swirled the liquid in his glass slightly. The rare sound of mirth at this dull and quiet frankly depressing party was coming from his team. It was Emily, JJ, Garcia, and _y/n_.” As he looked at _y/n_ in her semi-formal _y/f/c_ dress that was just long enough to be appropriate, Hotch assumed it was some cocktail dress _y/n_ had pulled from the back of a closet behind all of _y/n_ business formal and work attire. The black tights made the outfit work in a fashion way that Aaron didn’t have the right words for. He had to tear his eyes away because if he kept looking at _y/l/n_ much longer, the butterflies in his stomach would soon unfurl their wings and move into his ribcage in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Aaron moved to Rossi, who was free now for support. Dave grounded him, which he needed right now. His feelings for _y/n_ had been coming to a head for months now and somehow, Aaron didn’t feel the bureau holiday party was the place for a confession. Even if _y/n_ was receptive to his advances, he worried. His role as her superior and the age gap had him wondering if they had enough in common to sustain a relationship. They’d grown up in different decades, and y/n_ seemed to have the youth and energy he lacked as he neared late middle age. The part of Aaron that longed for _y/n_ in unexplored ways knew that Hotch’s concerns were self-imposed. That _y/n_ had been sending him small signs of affection and care that didn’t even think he deserved. But Aaron’s fear was real and steeped in policy and power dynamics that would come with having a committed relationship with _y/n_. Hotch moved next to Rossi and asked his friend about his New Year's plan. If he was currently seeing anyone. The basic life and catching up questions that they rarely had time for during work. As Dave answered, Hotch’s eye kept flicking back to _y/n_, as she laughed at some comment of Penelope’s. Rossi noticed and stopped talking about himself. Instead, he said, “She’s not going to wait forever you know, Aaron. _y/n_’s a patient person, but I think she deserves to know how you feel about her.” This comment had Hotch flush and take a breath in. Aaron had tried very hard to keep any of his feelings for _y/n_ hidden beneath a cloak of professionalism and feigned disinterest in the team's personal life as a whole. After all, he was their boss foremost, but it was hard to tune out when the team spoke of their weekends. It was doubly so when it was _y/n_. He’d overhear her complaints about bad dates and rent, and how her dryer was broken in her unit. Hotch had wanted to offer to fix it himself but stopped himself before the words could slip from his mouth. He’d also heard her when she talked about the good things like a new cafe she had found, or getting tickets for a band she adored. If _y/n_ was talking and Aaron was around, he listened but tried to look very hard to not look like he was listening. He wondered if he had played into that a little too hard. Hotch looked at Rossi and asked, “Is it that obvious? And what if _y/n_ doesn’t feel the same way? Her feelings could just be due to proximity, or that I’m her boss or something.” Rossi scoffed and said, “You’re deflecting, Aaron. This isn’t Fifty Shades of Grey. A young woman is allowed to have feelings for a guy, who in my opinion is a pretty good catch.” Dave’s complement had Aaron scoff, but that didn’t stop Rossi from continuing. “Listen, Hotch. I knew you liked her and that she liked you ever since you were in the hospital after the case in Indianapolis. I think what happened in that hospital room told me that there was more than just a feeling of friendship between you and _y/n_. As for whether her feelings are the same way for you and you do for her, I can’t tell you. I’m no love expert. But you’re never going to know how she feels about you unless you ask. And I think you both deserve to know the answer, Hotch.” 

With those words of advice, Dave gave Aaron a pat on the arm and excused himself for the night. The older profiler had done the rounds with the higher-ups and was excited to head home, nurse a whiskey, and watch an episode of The Suprano’s. Aaron on the other hand still had about five people to speak to before he could excuse himself. The added discussion about _y/n_ wasn’t going to make small talk any easier. So, with wine still in hand, he steeled himself for another hour of conversation. Hotch had almost made it through the last of his people. He needed to “catch up with.” The room had cleared significantly since his talk with Rossi. Derek, Spencer, and Em had all left, waving or saying a quick goodbye to him as they exited. Garcia was talking to a tech friend of hers from the third floor, and JJ was speaking in hushed tones to Will. But _y/n_ was nowhere to be found. Hotch watched as Arnold, the last person he should talk to approached him. Aaron didn’t think he could take any more small talk, and because Arnold was in Legal, he always asked Aaron loads of questions. Although Hotch didn’t mind flexing his JD now and again, he preferred to do it in a courtroom, not at parties, and not with Arnold Shortes nearly taking notes over their conversation. Aaron turned on his heel and walked quickly to the elevator before Arnold could catch him. Even after a few minutes _y/n_ still hadn’t come back into the second-floor conference room which had been cleared and rearranged for the party. He considered that _y/n_ might have dipped out with Emily, but he was sure she would have told him goodbye before she had left. She always told him goodbye unless he was in a meeting or seemed overly absorbed in his paperwork. _y/n_ introducing her comings and goings had become so routine that he used it as an informal clock now. _y/n_ would always enter the bullpen at 7:45 a.m. sharp unless there was something amiss. And then in the evenings at 5:10 p.m., she’d knock on his office door and wave before skipping down the stairs and to a life that Aaron assumed was filled with much more interesting things than his own. In fact, Hotch had become so accustomed to using _y/n_’s timeliness that he had almost missed a meeting with Strauss because of it. 

Hotch had been sitting in his office looking over a case report, waiting to hear _y/n_’s chipper, “Hey guys,” down in the bullpen. He knew once he heard that he’d have just enough time to grab a coffee, wave to the team, and then make it to Strauss’s office. But it seemed to be taking longer than usual. Concerned, Aaron looked at his watch and was startled when he realized it was already 7:55 a.m. Aaron had to run to the elevator and just barely made it to the meeting on time. After the hour with Strauss, he had found JJ and asked, “Where’s _y/l/n_?” A tinge of concern laced his voice. The media liaison had replied, “She caught a bad cold last night. She just called Emily to let her know that she’s taking the day off with PTO.” Aaron nodded, absorbing the information. He was glad to know that _y/n_ wasn’t in any trouble, or stuck in traffic, but being sick didn’t sound great either. Aaron had spent the rest of that day fiddling around anxiously. Hotch knew it was because of _y/n_ but refused to admit it. Finally, when 5:10 came around, he pulled out his cell and called _y/n_. She’d picked up on the third ring and sounded terrible as she said, “Hey, Hotch. What is it?” Aaron let out a breath and said, “Sorry to disturb you, _y/n_. I just wanted to see how you were doing?” There was a muffled cough on the line, and Aaron cringed as _y/n_ hoarsely replied, “I’m still feeling pretty bad, but the fever is down at least. Hopefully, I’ll be back in a day or two.” Hotch nodded and replied a little too quickly, “Take all the time you need, _y/n_. When you feel better, come back.” There was an awkward pause because Aaron didn’t know what else to say, and _y/n_ hadn’t expected to hear such genuine concern coming from her normally very composed superior. At least not over a little cold. Eventually, _y/n_ who was feeling sleepy again said, “Thanks for checking on me, Hotch. I’ll be alright, just need some sleep.” Again, Aaron nodded. He replied, “Okay. Rest well, _y/n_. See you in a few days.” After that, he hung up and put his head in his hands in desperation. He knew he shouldn’t be having the feelings he was for _y/n_ It was inappropriate. His inner voice reminded him, “She’s sick goddamn it. She probably doesn’t want you around right now.” Aaron did justify his line of thinking slightly because he was just picturing making her some tea to smooth her throat and tucking the blankets around her more tightly. It’s not like he was having sex with her… though he’d had those thoughts before too. In his waking mind, he could stop those images with ease, but in his dreams when he made love to her, it was always overpowering. A time or two, he’d even waken mid-dream to find his body aroused and tense. On these occasions, he’d had to go to the bathroom and find release below a steaming shower. The guilt of doing this weighed on him heavily. One of the times he had done this was during a case, and he hadn’t been able to look at _y/n_ most of the day without flushing and internally reprimanding his body and mind like a teenager. But a majority of Aaron’s thoughts about _y/n_ centered around mundane things like waking up beside her, or cooking dinner together. Aaron knew he was boring, and led a boring life, but if it was possible, he’d like to lead it with _y/n_ beside him. Aaron sighed as the elevator reached his team’s floor. He wished he didn’t sound so melancholic, so lovesick. It wasn’t like him. But _y/n_ pulled the emotions from him like the moon pulled the tides. If nothing else, Aaron had learned something valuable tonight; as Rossi had said, _y/n_ wouldn’t wait for him forever, and they both deserved to know how the other felt about the other.

The bullpen was mostly dark with a few lamps on some desks still on, plus the lamps in Aaron’s office burned down on the rest of the space with their soft halogen glow. Hotch didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he wondered where _y/n_ had wandered off to, or if she had just left without telling him. The latter sounded unlikely. Hotch moved to her desk and noticed that _y/n_’s chair was pulled out with her bulky coat draped over the back, and her sneakers and socks sitting underneath the desk. This indicated to Aaron that _y/n_ was still around. Aaron leaned against the desk, much like Morgan did every day when _y/n_ got into the office. Hotch flushed at the idea of _y/n_ sitting in the empty chair. Being so close and causal like Derek or Garcia were with her. Hotch rarely found himself jealous of Morgan for many reasons, but in this case, he was. He couldn’t afford to be too casual with anyone on the team, especially not with _y/n_. If he was, he knew he’d fall head over heels for her. It was hard enough thinking and dreaming about her. He didn’t need more fuel for that fire. Thinking about this sparked a memory from earlier in the year, and suddenly, Aaron had a sense of where _y/n_ was. It had been after a long day in October. The time change had meant that it was dark outside before anyone left the office. The whole team was still around filling out some reports, except _y/n_ seemed to be missing. Hotch approached Emily and asked, “Where’s _y/n_?” Prenitess chuckled at his question and said, “Licking her wounds up on the roof. Freddy Hareld from Finance just made a big deal about “Just how keen _y/n_ looked. And how she must just be dying to get to know the city better now that she’s part of the BAU, and wouldn’t she let him show her around on Sunday.” Hotch’s eyes grew wide at the story. He was rarely privy to office gossip, even though he knew stuff like this happened around him all the time. However, his co-workers kept him out of the loop, which he didn’t mind until now. Aaron cleared his throat and asked, “Did she seem alright?” He wasn’t one to notice or judge men much, he knew he wasn’t perfect either, but Freddy didn’t seem like _y/n_’s type. Hotch was surprised the man had mustered up the courage to ask. Emily nodded and said, “She just looked annoyed. Apparently, Fred talked, loudly, for about five minutes before she had to shut him down and tell him that she wasn’t interested.” Even though Aaron trusted Prentiss, he wanted to make sure that _y/n_ was okay for himself. Office drama could be uncomfortable. Hotch had spent a good bit of time on the roof himself when he was new to the team. It seemed to be one of the only places in the building where you wouldn’t be disturbed, but now that Aaron had his own office, he didn’t need to find an escape from the team or his own thoughts anymore Much like the first time he had found _y/n_ on the roof seeking an escape, _y/n_ was leaning against the railing, looking out onto the canopy of trees that surrounded the Quantico office and the highway beyond them. Hotch cleared his throat, as he stepped closer to _y/n_. She turned around and felt a blush paint across her face when she saw it was him. 

_y/n_ had just been thinking about him, and there he was. _y/n_ had been considering how they had both been dancing around the other's feelings all year. And two things _y/n_ knew for sure, she wasn’t great at dancing, and her feet were fucking tired. _y/n_ had hoped that there would be a way for her to tell him how she felt without it being awkward or jeopardizing her job. She hoped that she’d at least shown Aaron her care with her actions if not her words. Unfortunately, the few times that had seemed perfect had been cut off by Haley and Jack. The first time had happened in June. A terrorist group was planning on poisoning the largest high school in the region. It had all been a test run for a bigger operation that would take place in D.C. The team had caught on the terrorist’s trail first. But not before Hotch had been taken and tortured for information. The few seconds of audio that Aaron’s captors had shared were so sickening to _y/n_ that she crumpled in on herself and almost vomited. She couldn’t hide how much hearing Hotch in pain was hurting her. When the cell had been caught, the other half of the team moved to Aaron’s location. _y/n_ had shot and then subdued three men before she, Rossi, and Spencer found Hotch black and blue and tied to a chair. He was barely conscious with his mouth gagged. The wad of cloth in his mouth was soaked with sweat and blood that had dripped down the side of Aaron’s face from a large gash on his eyebrow. _y/n_ helped free his mouth while Spencer cut off the zip ties around his battered arms and legs. Rossi was on the phone with the paramedics who were already en route. Once Aaron’s limbs had been freed, he slumped heavily into _y/n_, who supported his weight. She and Spencer helped him to the ground, and he groaned in pain at being shifted. _y/n_ quickly took off her outer jacket and covered his waist. His kidnappers had stripped him of everything but his briefs, and _y/n_ was certain he didn’t want to be so exposed. The paramedics came shortly after and took Aaron to the nearest hospital._y/n_ was grateful that she didn’t have much time to see or think about all the cuts and burns littering Hotch’s prone form. Seeing him like this felt so wrong that it twisted her insides. 

Later, when the doctor had methodically detailed Aaron’s injuries, _y/n_ burned with a fit of anger even _y/n_ didn’t know that she possessed. When he was cleared for it, the team had all gone and saw Aaron in his room. He was surrounded and attached to multiple medical devices keeping him medicated and stable. Even though everyone appreciated Aaron and what he had gone through, no one particularly wanted to stay with him long after wishing him a good night’s rest. No one except _y/n._. Aaron knew it was his fault. He hated hospitals. He would gripe and groan and generally be in a foul mood until he was released as quickly as possible, so he was surprised in his pain-induced state to see _y/n_ pull up a chair close to his bed and just plant herself there. Aaron shifted on the bed to look at her better. That was a bad idea as a sharp pain moved up his side. Hotch muttered, “Fuck” under his breath. He moved his left hand which was attached to an IV toward his stomach to apply some pressure where the pain was radiating from. _y/n_ watched as Aaron moved around. He was straining the line of his IV, and _y/n_ jumped up softly saying, “Hey, hey. Take it easy there Hotch. Just stay calm if you can.” Aaron grunted, but acquiesced as _y/n_ took his left arm and rested it back by his side. She looked at him, concern etched on her face as she asked, “Where does it hurt, Hotch?” Aaron swallowed and almost said everywhere. But his stomach was especially tender and he said, “My, my stomach, but you don’t have to do anything _y/n_. You don’t need to stay here. I’m a pain in the ass when I’m like this.” _y/n_ nodded in understanding as she gently applied a bit of pressure to where he had been trying to reach earlier. He closed his eyes as _y/n_ gently rubbed circles over the inflamed flesh of his torso. Any words about protocol or regulations left him as soon as _y/n_’s hands met his clothed skin. He let out a breath and _y/n_ asked, “Is this okay? I can get a nurse for you?” Aaron shook his head no. He was sick of being poked at. Having three IVs was already putting him on edge. The possibility of more medical equipment was too much to bear. And whatever _y/n_ was doing was soothing him. Hotch softly said, “No nurse. Please. This is good.” Even saying those words seemed to exhaust him. _y/n_ just nodded and kept gently running her hand over his stomach. She didn’t want to think about how this was probably breaking ten rules, or how Aaron’s body looked under the flimsy hospital gown. She just kept moving her hands and watched as Hotch seemed to still and then finally sleep. When his breathing had evened out, _y/n_ pulled the covers over him again and took her seat once more. She didn’t care if he was in a mood or snapped at her. _y/n_ just didn’t think he should be alone right now. So she was going to sit with him until either he told her to leave or someone in the hospital kicked her out. It was at that moment that all of her disparate feelings for him coalesced into one of love. Not a fling or a passing fancy, but the kind of love that lasts through illness and grief and every other part of life. _y/n_ sighed and thought, “What a time to have a revelation like this,” as she kept watch over her boss, unable to leave his side. 

Aaron had shown interest in her too. _y/n_ felt a bit better that she wasn’t the only one falling in love. He was more subtle about it, or at least he was trying to be. But that hadn’t stopped her from noticing how he looked at her, how his gaze lingered just a second too long in meetings. He’d pull his eyes away quickly as if he’d been caught doing something improper. Then there was the time he’d called her when she was sick and how he’d seemed a little too excited to have her back after a short four days of illness. And he looked out for her on cases. Not that Aaron didn’t look out for everyone, but he seemed to take her comfort more seriously than he needed to. He held the door for her and let her sit in the passenger seat so they could throw ideas back and forth. At first _y/n_ had thought it was just because she was the newest member of the team. But the behavior from Hotch continued, and just one time on a case, he’d pulled her out of a line of fire and rolled on top of her even though he probably didn’t need to go that far. As Aaron let out a breath of excitement over the case and the woman below him, _y/n_ caught the tells of desire on his face. It didn’t help that they were in what could be an intimate position. His pupils were wide and his breath came in little gasps. _y/n_ didn’t need to see his groin to know that he was excited down there too. After a second, Hotch quickly got up and helped _y/n_ stand too. Aaron nervously straightened his shirt and tie and after quickly asking _y/n_ if she was okay, and her response of “yes,” he moved away from her to gather some semblance of composure. The fact that Aaron was flushed and couldn’t look at her for the rest of the day told _y/n_ all she needed to know about Hotch’s thoughts about her. Or at least the uncontrollable whims of his strong body.  _y/n_ didn’t let herself get carried away. Aaron was still her boss, and she was his agent. And because of this neither had said anything or acted like they were falling in love with the other because it didn’t feel like it could happen. Not to them. But now as _y/n_ sat by his hospital bed, she wondered what it would be like with Aaron. To peek behind his well-kept facade and just be close to him. _y/n_ assumed this was the nearest she’d ever come to that, so she settled in for a long night and decided if this was all she was getting, then she would accept it. Fate had never been so kind to give her something as lovely as Aaron, Hotchner, and she accepted it. 

It was a long night. Hotch woke almost every hour in pain or needing to adjust for his comfort. _y/n_ moved his pillows and blankets for him, helped him drink a glass of water, and called a nurse when he needed to relieve himself. The next morning she was tired, but when Aaron woke, he seemed much improved. He softly said, “_y/n_, thanks for last night. For being here. You made being here, comfortable for me.” _y/n_ took his hand softly and rubbed over his knuckles with her thumb. Gently she said, “It was nothing, Aaron. I’m just glad you’re okay.” _y/n_ was so tired that she was about to speak transparently and say, “I’d do this all the time if you needed me to. I don’t mind staying up all night with you whether you’re sick or not.” That was the closest thing to a confession that _y/n_ could think of. But she had been interrupted when a nurse knocked on the door and said, “Mr. Hotchner, your son, and Ms. Brooks are here to see you. Should I let them in?” Hearing this, _y/n_ dropped his hand and her head a tiny bit. She stood and said, “I’ll give ya’ll some space, Hotch.” Aaron nodded yes to the nurse, and watched as _y/n_ left the room. He felt like he’d just missed something big,  but didn’t know what. _y/n_ passed Haley and Jack in the hall. _y/n_ gave the pair a small smile and nod, and she made her way to the hospital lounge to get some much-needed coffee. The Hotchner-Brooks divorce was still very new, and _y/n_ wondered where things had fallen apart between the two of them. She also wondered if there was any chance at all for her and Aaro.  It didn’t feel like it at the moment. 

_y/n_ snapped back to the present when Aaron said her name more loudly. He was holding out his suit jacket for her and saying, “You look a little cold.” Hotch was right, she was cold. _y/n_ had wished she’d brought her coat up to the roof almost as soon as she had stepped outside. However, she was too lazy to want to go back in. She’d escaped Freddy’s boring conversation and looked at Aaron right before she moved to the roof for some fresh air. _y/n_ was pondering if she should just give up her dreams about Hotch. Neither of them seemed to be making any moves out of fear that they might say no to the other or that they might ruin the strong friendship they had now. _y/n_ was getting tired of it though. But then there was Aaron as always being a gentleman and looking out for her. _y/n_ nodded and Aaron slipped behind her, placing the jacket over her shoulders. His hands brushed over her exposed skin, and _y/n_ felt that familiar spark burn through her anytime she felt Aaron’s hands on her. Those times were few and far between. She looked over at Aaron and decided that tonight she was going to give him a line and see if he took it. If she didn’t seem interested, she’d let her infatuation go and move on. She could be happy not loving Aaron. At least she hoped she could. Hotch moved to her side next to the railing and he asked, “Was Fred trying to ask you out again?” _y/n_ flushed because it was so rare for him to ask her about her personal life. She remembered the first time it had happened she’d nearly dropped her _y/f/c/b_. That first time had been Freddy-related too. That time they both seemed embarrassed to be talking about it. Now _y/n_ was much more comfortable being open with Aaron. She looked at him and replied, “No. Not this time thankfully. I think the third time actually did it. No today he was just asking about the cases the team has been on recently, and then, inexplicably, he started talking about his pet lizard.” Hearing this, Aaron couldn’t help but cringe. _y/n_ chuckled and said, “You know he’s not a bad guy, just not the guy for me. But bless him, he needs to learn to read a room.” Aaron hummed and said, “Well I’m glad he’s ended his crusade.” _y/n_ laughed at his commentary and replied, “You know he’s right about one thing. I still don’t know this city at all. The cases keep me tired enough to not want to explore on my days off. What do you say we skip the party and you show me something worth seeing?” And here was _y/n_’s line. All Aaron had to do was give it a tug. Hotch looked at her with some surprise, like he had when he was half-dazed in the hospital bed. He cleared his throat and said, “Are you sure it’s me you want? Garcia, or even JJ could show you a better time. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind…” _y/n_ could sense that he was deflecting, and said, “No. I want you. You’ve lived here longer and you’ve gotta know the places that aren’t tourist traps. Plus, Garcia is flirting up a storm with that tech down there and JJ only has eyes for Will. I wouldn’t dare break up either of those conversations right now.” After a pause, _y/n_ added, “Come on Hotch. You looked miserable in there. You’re honestly telling me that you want to go back?” 

Aaron let out a warm laugh and said, “Alright, I wasn’t particularly enjoying myself. Too much small talk makes me feel like a dog that’s been bred for show. And I never understood why they held this thing after Christmas and between New Year's. That time feels sacred in some unspeakable way.” _y/n_ was grinning and said, “Totally. I know the director said there was some sort of conflict, but that just read like bad code for, ‘Let me take my ski vacation with my family first.’ And don’t mention the playlist in there. Nobody was enjoying that, I swear to god.” Hotch had to stifle a harsh laugh to not sound unbecoming. That was another thing about _y/n_, they synced with each other’s humor. Sometimes he had to look away from her in meetings to avoid bursting out laughing. The fact was a joy and a pain in equal measure. Aaron looked over to her again, and he realized that she was still waiting for an answer. He took a breath to steel himself. Aaron left like it was now or never, and he didn’t want to let _y/n_ go. Not after all they’d been through this year. He did, however, need a moment to think about where exactly to take _y/n_. He hadn’t exactly been on the town himself since the divorce. Hotch slowly said, “I’d be happy to show you around, _y/n_, but would you give me a minute to think about where exactly to take you? I’m, um, particular about places.” _y/n_ nodded and relaxed into the railing. Aaron looked her over again. She looked ravishing in that dress, and it didn’t hurt that she had his jacket on too. He rested his hands on the cool metal and looked out onto the highway. Gently he asked, “What do you think about when you come up here? I used to spend a good deal of time up here too. When I was new to the BAU at least.” _y/n_ looked over him. Pondering the question. Trying to picture him as a green agent under Gideon. Trying to imagine him in his early thirties instead of his late forties. That all felt like a different time. She hadn’t been there then. _y/n_ moved her gaze to the highway and said, “Well most of my time up here is spent far less productively than yours was. I’m sure. In fact, three of the seven times on this roof have been an escape from Freddy. The other four times, I’m sure I was just annoyed, at myself or someone else. It’s a good place to cool off. Shake the cares of the day away.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. Most of his time up here had been spent sitting against the wall and questioning his life choices, but he didn’t verbalize that thought. He didn’t need to as  _y/n_ continued, “But sometimes I like to close my eyes and pretend I can see D.C. from the rooftop. The capital or Washinton Mall. I know it’s silly, and I’ve explored that city even less than this one, but that’s why we’re here, aren’t we? To keep people safe. To keep the dream alive for everyone who doesn’t have to see the dark underbelly of this country. It gives me comfort.” Hearing this, Hotch stepped forward and placed a hand on _y/n_’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure why. He replied, “I don’t think that’s silly at all, _y/n_.” Something _y/l/n_ had said had sparked an idea in Hotch. There was a place on the border between D.C. and Virginia that he’d liked a long time ago. Politicians from either side of the aisle would meet there to make deals and broker favors. As a younger man, he had thought it was cool. Aaron looked at _y/n_ and said, “How do you feel about jazz?” _y/n_ nodded yes and said, “I don’t mind it. Improvisation is good for the soul. Gets you out there. Is there dancing?” Aaron tried to remember the intimate club and eventually nodded yes, saying, “I think so. But I wouldn’t trust me with that. I’ve got two left feet.” _y/n_’s laughter cut through the cold night and she said, “It’s alright. Me too most of the time.” Aaron shifted his hand to her lower back as he asked, “This place is too far to walk. Did you drive here?” _y/n_ replied, “No. Em took me. I was planning on taking an Uber back when I was done with my private roof party.” Aaron noticed her eyes slowly blowing out and her breath coming in faster in her chest. Aaron nodded and said, “Okay. Well, we’ll take my car if you're comfortable with it. I can drop you off at your place after?” _y/n_ agreed and said, “Sounds like a plan.” 

The pair made a quick stop by Aaron’s office and _y/n_’s desk to grab their things before heading out. Neither made any formal goodbye at the party. Hotch felt oddly free as he stepped out of the field office with _y/n_ by his side. On the drive to the jazz club, he pointed out different areas of the town to _y/n_. He knew he sounded like a dad, but _y/n_ seemed interested in learning more about the area and asked follow-up questions as they cruised down the dark streets. There was no parking in front of the club, so Aaron found some down the road. The club was unassumingly nestled into the facade of a street full of high-end stores. Now it was _y/n_’s turn to point out interesting trends in the window and designers she despised. Aaron got a small tirade about _y/l/f/d_ when they passed that storefront. _y/n_ was sure Hotch had lost interest at that point, but when she looked at him, he seemed engrossed. He looked over at her and said, “Well, I’d have never known that unless you’d told me. Now I’ll have something smart to say when there’s more small talk to be made at parties.” _y/n_ smiled at Aaron. She knew she had her eccentricities, but he took them with such grace and she wondered what she’d done to earn even an hour of this man's time.  _y/n_ spared him any other commentary. When they stepped into the small, dark space of the club, Aaron told the matre de that it was just two, and the man led the two toward the back of the space. The head waiter graciously motioned to a small couch near the live band playing soft jazz in the back corner of the room. Aaron let _y/n_ take a seat first, and he followed after her. Shortly after being seated a waiter came and took their orders. Aaron got an old-fashioned, and _y/n_ ordered _y/f/d_. As they waited for their drinks to arrive, _y/n_ asked Aaron, “So, how did you find this place?” Hotch did his best to summarize his first year in the BAU. How unsure he was about the shift in jobs. How Haley had been the one to get him out of the house and office. As Aaron recounted his story, _y/n_ didn’t pull away or, cringe at the mention of the former Mrs. Hotcher. _y/n_ realized as much as anyone how important Haley was to Aaron. He’d loved her for a long time before things had fallen apart. And she’d loved him too. _y/n_ was far less insecure about this fact now. She was ashamed about how she’d felt about Haley at the hospital that one time. Not only was Haley important, but _y/n_ realized that Jack was the zenith of Aaron’s life. And she respected that. Fatherhood seemed far from easy, and add being head of the BAU on top of that? Hell, Aaron made it look easy. So she listened to him open up in a way that he never had in front of her before, and _y/n_ got her small peak behind his work facade. She realized that he was just a man doing his best. Trying to juggle all of the plates at his feet, and somehow that was the most attractive thing possible about Aaron Hotchner that she hadn’t ever noticed before that instant. 

Hotch looked at _y/n_ after his long-winded story and expected to see boredom there. Or disappointment at how often he’d brought up Haley or Jack. But he didn’t find it. Only a look of admiration that he couldn’t quite place. And suddenly Hotch wanted to say everything that he’d bottled up over the year and wanted to lean down and kiss _y/n_ on the lips like he had in his dreams. And _y/n_ watched as Aaron shifted in his demeanor. How his eyes were wide again and he seemed to be building to something new. Something yet said or explored between them. The sudden and insistent beeping of Hotch’s phone cut off that moment in an instant. Aaron pulled back from _y/n_ a bit and murmured, “Sorry,” as he accepted the call. After a second, Hotch’s mood changed again, as he replied to the other end of the line. “Is he alright? What’s the matter?” _y/n_ pulled back a bit more, realizing this was a private conversation and she was a bit too close to Aaron for it to be happening like one. His frown and worry lines increased, as he listened to the dialog she couldn’t hear. After a minute he replied, “Yes, I’ll head over right away. You said the doctor was on his way too?... Yeah, yeah. I’ll just be twenty minutes or so… Okay. Tell Jack I’m on my way… Yeah. Bye.” Aaron dropped his hand with this cell in it and looked at _y/n_ with sad eyes. She looked back and him and said, “Is it Jack?” Aaron nodded and replied, “Haley said he has a bad fever, and it’s getting worse. She called a doctor and she thinks I should come over. _y/n_, I’m sorry.” _y/n_ gave him a pat on the arm and said, “Go be with your son, Aaron. There are more important things than me in the world. At least in your world.” Hotch nodded with the same sad eyes. He realized how much of a sacrifice _y/n_ was making for him, how life in the BAU was a whole big load of sacrifice. Aaron stood, and just to show a fraction of how grateful he was for _y/n_’s presence in his life, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was chaste, and he pulled away before he could get ahead of himself.

Aaron was gone before _y/n_ could even fully register what had happened. The bell at the door told of Hotch’s departure, and _y/n_ could have screamed out of desire or despair at how the night had come to a quick conclusion. But she didn’t. _y/n_ knew how important Jack was to Hotch. Everything else but his son was at the periphery of Aaron’s life, and Jack was at the center. As _y/n_ settled back into the loveseat, now alone, she contemplated how yet again any plans or revelations of their feelings had been dashed. But _y/n wasn’t mad about it. _y/n_ had to remind herself that for the half hour, they had been together that night, Aaron had allowed her to see more of himself. And he was, as _y/n_ expected, as good a man as they came. _y/n_ thought, “How often does a girl really get to see a good man?” It was a pleasure, even if it was for just an evening. 

The final few days of December passed in a wave of the hand. _y/n_ had asked Aaron if Jack was alright the morning after their night on the town, and he’d said that the fever had broken in the night and that his son was on the mend. Aaron had asked _y/n_ in the same text exchange if she’d gotten home okay after his sudden departure. She had told him that she’d called a Lyft soon after he’d left to get home. And then, before _y/n_ knew it, she was packing her bags for a long weekend at one of Derek’s properties on a lake outside the city limits. She was carpooling with Emily and Garcia. _y/n_ had heard that Morgan’s New Year’s Eve parties were times to remember and she was finally going to experience one for herself. _y/n_ was already excited to be spending time with her friends, but when Emily said, “You know Aaron’s coming too? He apparently called Morgan last minute and asked if there was still an empty bed, _y/n_’s jaw dropped. _y/n_ quickly composed herself and said, “Well the more the merrier.” Em rolled her eyes and said, “The more the merrier my ass, _y/n_. You know he’s just going there for you. When are you going to catch on that he’s in love with you?” Penelope agreed from the backstreet and said, “Honestly. _y/n_. He’s been making googly eyes at you all year. And what was that with him taking you out after the Holiday Party? Do you see Hotchy doing that with anyone else?” _y/n_ sighed exasperated with her friend's encouragement. She half-heartedly said, “Well, he could have been.” this had Garcia and Prentiss cackling and Penelope said, “This is the time, _y/n_. I swear. If it’s not, I’ll pull Hotch aside myself and give him a piece of my mind.” Despite _y/n_’s friends banter, _y/n_ felt reluctant. None of the other times seemed to work out, and she didn’t see how this was going to be any different. 

As Morgan’s lake house came into view, _y/n_ tried to let everything go. Whatever happened would happen, and she planned on having fun no matter how the next day and a half went. The trio of women were the second to last to arrive. Spencer joined them a half-hour later. Derek quickly showed everyone to their rooms. It felt like an adult sleepover and an energy charged the air. For the first hour or so the team just relaxed and unpacked. Derek, Rossi, Spencer, and Aaron sat on the leather couches and talked about the year. Their highs and lows. They also debated which case was the most interesting from the year. As the men talked, Emily, _y/n_, JJ, and Garcia all tried on the dresses they had brought for the end of the night. As they were helping with the zippers and hemlines, _y/n_ said, “I’m sorry Will couldn’t come tonight, J.” JJ smiled and said, “Yeah. But I think it’s fine. We’ll be married soon enough and we’ll have the rest of our lives to be together. Tonight feels like the gang is back together in a nostalgic sort of way. You know what I mean?” The other nodded alone and Emily said, “I feel ‘ya JJ. What a year it’s been. But we’re all happy for you know. I think you got the last good guy on the market with Will.” JJ grinned and helped _y/n_ slip into her ‘dress.” The media liaison seemed to glow with a pre-marriage, I’ve-found-the-love-of-my-life aura even four months before her wedding day. And suddenly all the women were dressed, and they all looked at each other and complimented each other. Emily was in a sleek purple pants suit. JJ was in a fitted black dress. Garcia, as always, was wearing a bright orange tulle skirt with a pink top, plus white fingerless gloves. The tech noted, “And I’ve got about ten million little things to put in my hair too!” Lastly, _y/n_ was wearing something far slinkier than her friends. It essentially amounted to a lot of large, shimmery _y/f/v_ sequins held together with tiny metal rings. _y/n_ hadn’t worn it since before turning twenty and she couldn’t remember why she’d bought it. “Maybe for a rave?” She thought. Because the garment was so sheer, she was wearing sensible black underwear and a matching bra underneath, but _y/n_ flushed at the one time she’d gone clubbing without the undergarments beneath. That had been a fun evening.

The compliments made the rounds, and Garcia told _y/n_, “You look drop-dead good in that, _y/n_. The boys won’t know what hit them.” At the mention of “the boys,” _y/n_ looked at the ground and said, “You know I would have picked a different outfit if I’d known Hotch was coming.” The others snickered, and _y/n_ laughed too, saying, “I’m being serious. I’m not trying to look like a slut in front of him. The brief said ‘Fun New Year's attire and this is the funniest, New Years-ist dress I’ve got.” Emily moved forward and gave _y/n_’s shoulder a pat saying, “You’ll be fine, _y/n_. You look glorious. Plus you’re the youngest one here. That means you can get away with wearing something more risque. I’m just shocked you can wear something from that long ago. I’m lucky if I could pull off something from two years ago and it look good, I can’t even think about five or ten.” Prentiss shuddered at the thought, and that got a good laugh out of all of them. 

 A knock at the closed door, had them all look away from each other. It was Derek saying that he, Aaron, and Rossi were going to take a walk along the path that went around the lake nearby. And if any of them wanted to join them? _y/n_and Em jumped at the chance. The pair quickly changed back into their casual clothes and headed out with the guys. The walk was pleasant and they all just took in the fresh air and saw the trees surrounding the water. Aaron was walking a few steps behind _y/n_ and he contemplated his feelings about her once more. Even he was getting annoyed with himself. He blamed it on being indecisive in the worst possible area of his life, partnership. But he’d decided today was going to be the day. He was going to bite the bullet and ask _y/n_ how he felt about her. Even though he couldn’t picture the words leaving his mouth, he swore to himself that it was going to happen. The walk concluded, and then everyone got some drinks which Aaron happily and skillfully mixed. Then Derek and Rossi made dinner and everyone ate outside around the fire. And by that time it was already ten and the first fireworks were dotting the sky. Aaron and _y/n_ were sitting next to each other. Close enough that he could move his arm just an inch and he would be touching hers. Hotch’s eyes stayed on the sky as he asked, “Do you have any plans for the New Year?” It was too cliched to ask about resolutions, but he did wonder what someone like _y/n_ thought about the future. _y/n_ turned her gaze to him, and replied, “I don’t know. I want my apartment to feel more homey. It’s still giving college vibes if I’m being honest. I’d like to buy some better furniture, like the opposite of the stuff from IKEA. And then there’s helping JJ with the wedding, and then just going out more. Seeing the city like we did after the party.” _y/n_ felt like saying, “I’d like doing that with you,” and also, “Does this make me sound boring?” But _y/n_ couldn’t vocalize either of those thoughts as Gacia stepped out onto the patio and proclaimed, “It’s dress-up time, baby girl!” _y/n_ shook her head and chuckled. Aaron gave her a hand up and watched as she disappeared into the house. _y/n_’s list sounded just up his alley, and he wondered why he’d been putting off his feelings for so long. Why he couldn’t just man up and tell her he loved her? That he was mad about _y/n_. Aaron sighed and walked inside after _y/n_.

It was 11:15 when the girls were all dolled up with their outfits, heels, and makeup. Derek had the TV playing with the countdown to the ball drop on as ambient noise. The champagne was ready to be popped, and the new year was rung in with friends and laughter. Garcia and Derek were both oddly big about watching the ball drop. _y/n_ had interrogated Penelope about this on the way up to Morgan’s house. Garcia had just said, “It’s tradition, and you don’t mess with tradition.” Just as the group of women stepped into the light to be seen for the first time, the power went out. There was a moment of silence and then Derek said, “Really house. You do this to me now?’ That got everyone laughing, and Aaron asked, “Where’s the breaker Morgan? I’ll give it a look.” Derek told him and Hotch stood outside for a second. While Aaron was gone, Penelope and Morgan talked about what they would do about a countdown. Nobody wanted to just look at the clock. That, Morgan had said, “Wasn’t festive at all.” Aaron came back and said, “It’s not good news, the main fuse is fried.” That had Derek thinking and he announced, “Alright, change of plans. There’s a dive bar down the road. If we book it, we can make it there before midnight.” There was little complaint from the group as Morgan and Penelope hustled everyone into two cars and down the street. There was so much excitement that nobody got to see the women’s outfits until they were standing outside the bar. The space was a dive and it was packed with partiers. The walkway up wasn’t paved, so Aaron took _y/n_’s hand with his left, and even though he didn’t need to, he placed his right on her lower back. Again he felt that spark shoot through him. The cool sequins juxtaposed to _y/n_’s warm skin were doing things to him that he didn’t want to think about right now. Or maybe it was the dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Either of those was a good option. Inside, the team found a spot to stand and watch as the time ticked down from 11:55 to midnight. Derek joked and said, “Alright, who’s kissing who when it’s time?” Emily raised a hand and teasingly said, “I volunteer for you, Morgan.” The team laughed and then started counting down. Everyone except Hotch, who was standing a bit farther back. _y/n_ sighed, knowing he was never a big fan of crowds. She stepped close to him. Even as Aaron sought a moment of reprieve, both _y/n_ still had to stand almost body to body to avoid bumping into anyone. As “THREE, TWO, ONE” were unanimously chanted in the tight space, _y/n_ was going to try and pick up where their conversation had stopped earlier in the night. To see if Aaron had any plans going into the New Year. But she didn’t get the chance to as the call of “Happy New Year!” Hotch bent down and pressed his lips to hers. 

Aaron had meant for it to be a little peck. Just something to ring in the new year with. But _y/n_ only stood in shock for a moment before she realized what was happening, and she’d waited so god damn long for this very moment that she quickly leaned into it, pressing her body to Aaron’s as her arms wrapped around him. Aaron reciprocated in kind and placed one of his hands on her hip and the other on the crown of _y/n_’s head. Holding them together like he might fall apart if he let her go. Aaron's lips were slightly chapped and his cologne, which _y/n_ knew well, crept over her like a sunray. As soon, as they’d started, they didn’t want to stop. Then it dawned on both of them, like they hadn’t been yearning for the other for over a year, that they didn’t have to stop. So they didn’t. Not until they had to pull away panting for air. And once they’d gotten breath back in them, they came together again. This time it was more cautious.  More subdued as Aaron began to memorize the shape of _y/n_’s soft mouth pressed against his own, _y/n_ made a small contented sound that only he could hear and smiled as she placed her hands on his chest. _y/n_ his body in a way that indicated an intimacy that had always been there between them. The rest of the team watched them with Garcia saying, “About time. My god, I thought I was going to have to lock them in a closet together later tonight.” Rossi joked and said, “Well, there’s still time to do that later,” as he came back with a handful of champagne flutes. Dave handed one to each member of the team and then walked a pace over to _y/n_ and Aaron. Hotch was looking into _y/n_’s eyes but stopped when he noticed his friend. Rossi smiled and said, “Alright you kids. How about you take a moment and join us for a toast?” _y/n_ flushed, but nodded taking a glass from Rossi. Aaron chuckled and got a glass himself. He never let his hand lose contact with _y/n_’s side as all three walked back to the table. Rossi gave Aaron a strong pat on the shoulder as they moved to the group and winked at _y/n_, which only made her flush further. Hotch didn��t even care as the whole team's little “oohs and ahhs” sounded at their return. Aaron realized that scrutiny or affection didn’t feel so bad with _y/n_’s hand in his. He realized with full clarity that she’d been there all along, and he’d just not moved his hand to meet hers. He’d tell her he was sorry for that later. For stringing her on so long. He’d tell her he loved her more times than he could count too. But for now, as everyone lifted their glasses saying “Happy New Year!” The future never looked brighter.

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#aaron hotcher #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #reader insert #cm #cm fanfiction #New Years with hotch #soft hotch fic #hotch drabble #hotch blurb #aaron confesses #criminal minds x reader #bit of a slow burn #last fic of the year #i hope you like it #hotch fluff #criminal minds fluff #happy new year #2024 #fanfiction #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #david rossi #derek morgan

[solitary-cutie]

Darkness to our light. Part II

Part I

Part III

Part IV

prompt: you and coriolanus are married, it's unbearable for you, but it will all end soon

contains: dark, manipulative, controlling coriolanus. fem!reader.

And so you are sitting in the living room waiting for the only person ypu could talk to - the piano teacher. Sharing with desire to continue your once neglected studies, Coryo did not fail to fulfill whim of his better half and help Her. He would always help, even without asking. No matter if you needed this intervention. He would spend all the money on your wants without even mentioning it, as if forgetting, deliberately ignoring any checks in the stores, but you clearly knew that this wastefulness was another yoke around your neck, because one should be grateful. Especially if the checks came in the mail, and the history of purchases served him in calculating the spending for the month.

“Hello. Hey, you guys quiet today? Helpers’s a bit tense today. Not even tea! Can you believe it? Didn't offer! - The teacher laughed, putting out a folder with notes, a pencil, an eraser and an orange leather notebook from her bag on the snow-white piano.”

“Oh yes, He's planning a dinner party, everyone's getting ready. He's inviting coworkers, his sister. He's looking forward to the promotion.”

“Oh, wow. Who's coming from yours?”

You didn't say anything, was ashamed of yourself. “No, it is his night.” Silence. “Maybe you'll come?” Open hope in the voice of her student, almost her age.

“When? I had plans, but I'd stop by.”

“It starts at 7:00. I'll be waiting, you know! You can come when it's convenient for you.”

A weightless touch, as if you'd brushed something off the back of her hand. You ran your eyes around the room. He's not home. The teacher softened.

“Okay, I'll try.” She finally sits down on a nearby chair. “Come on, show me how you've been practicing. Have you tried to put both hands together yet?”

“I tried, but no luck.”

“Did you play the metronome?”

“Yeah, I got more confused.”

“All right, I'll do the math. Go ahead. E-e-e, one and, two and--“

The game began, with mistakes and quick, hurried edits.

“You've changed.” Said the teacher, stopping counting out the rhythm, because the student was already helping herself with the silent movement of her lips.

“He says the same thing to me.” She chorused the rhythm.

“You're not so much flirtatious, laughing. The author's depression? When was the last time you sat down at the pen?” She smiled.

“I miss it. Okay, wait, what's the best way to play this? I forgot.”

The teacher intercepted her hands and began playing the obscure part, counting out the rhythm aloud with intonation highlighting that "And three, And four, And one...".

“You're unhappy.”

“No, why?”

“That's not a question. I can recommend a psychologist, the best woman I know. She helped me let go of my resentments.”

“I'm not resentful.”

“Teach you to love yourself, so you don't deny those resentments, but accept them. Appreciate yourself, don't deny being alone, but accept being one with yourself. You are not alone, know you can walk away from where you want to walk away from.” The teacher did not realize how she had pushed the piano aside and how she had moved on to passionate speeches. She had been spared the resentment, but not the desire to save.

You looked around the room again out of habit.

“At least he doesn't hit you?”

“No, God, of course not.” You caught the doubt in her eyes and a second frown furrowed her brow. “No, seriously, I wouldn't stand for that. I'm not leaving him. I can't.”

“There's no word for "can't."

“I mean, what dictionary can I give you to back that up? I don't even want to leave. We are one and the same, and he won't just let me go. The only way I'm getting out of here is with my feet up. If I'm lucky and he dies before I do, I'll have a few years of pleasure.” She smiled, starting the composition from the beginning.

“In the left hand hurry a little. And how can you reason like that about a man you're married to? And if the children come, what will you do?”

“The later they come, the better, God forbid now.”

“Does he want them now?”

You hesitated, not stopping the game. It was embarrassing. Again.

“Well he hasn't talked about them yet, though I don't know how he plans to.”

“So even your body doesn't belong to you? You don't talk about your plans, not your plans, but his.”

“My soul doesn't even belong to me. Look, my arms are tired, can I take a little break?” Nod. “What's the best way to pedal here?”

“First learn to control both hands.”

Silence.

You wonder if you could call it a pun. If your body and even the imperishable substance of your being belongs to your husband, a white-haired angel raised in hell and invited into the ether of paradise, a world of powerful, fully-endowed people, will you be able to control what you lost access to on the date that the calendar refers to as the "Anniversary of Dating"?

The remaining hour of class passed in silence, resulting in the learning of a new sonata, even with the use of a pedal to stretch the sound, giving it a smooth flow from one bar to the next.

“I have a question here: when will you finally learn the bass clef? Will you stop signing notes?” The teacher mocked, marking in the diary the next lesson for January.

“It's a rhetorical question.” You looked at the Interlocutor. “Oh man, I don't like that bass clef, I can't memorize it. The only thing I know is what the C note looks like. That's it.”

“Don't forget the "B."

“Oh yeah, and then..." She made a long road to nowhere with her hand.

“And then let the Snow land on top.” He stood at the white archway that opened the living room, leaning lightly against the blue wall with gilded patterns and trees.

You shuddered, nerves to no avail, you were easily frightened, which could not be said of your teacher, - a girl strong-willed. Nevertheless, the fright laid a heavy stone on her heart, sinking it into her heels, and she dropped her pencil and, looking at him confusedly, hurried to pick it up.

“I didn't mean to disturb you, much less frighten you.” The ice-cold eyes flashed over each of the girls, burning their insides with cold.

Coriolanus knew you were partial to this pianist. From the first time you met her, He had noticed the glint in your eyes. Gross, He didn't approve of it, but He also knew it was certainly not worth worrying about. You amuse yourself as best you can from lack of socialization with Him. Yes, maybe you complain about Him, suffer, but you won't leave Him because you don’t want to. These reflections might have reassured Him if He had once experienced a semblance of even doubt, let alone anxiety.

“Ginny, my wife and I are organizing a dinner party tonight. We'd love for you to come.” His eyes darted to you, looking at your teacher. What will you do? If you start coaxing her “friend”, this conversation never happened between you, but if you walk up to Him and...

“What a great idea!” You whispered, flying up to your husband and hugging him by the forearm. He smiles, it all became clear, you had already invited her, but was it scary to ask Him? “I was afraid to invite Ms. Ring because of the possibility of rejection.”

Now you are on His side, snuggling up to Him to get hers. Manipulative. And who are you trying to bend to your will is unclear.

“Yes, of course, thank you for the invitation, I'd love to come. But I'm afraid I'm busy, so I won't be able to make it to the beginning of the evening.”

“I didn't tell you the time, in case you get there.”

You both looked at each other. The pianist was confused.

“Dinner starts at 6:00 or 7:00 in the evening. Ms. Ring apparently skips a lot of dinner.” She tried to put the question into an impromptu justification for the two of them, but it came out badly. The answer to his line didn't work anyway.

“It starts at seven o'clock, but knowing some of the guests, they'll be a little later.” He looked at his wife. “Play the new composition you've learned for me.”

“We haven't played it all the way through yet. We need time.”

“Play it.” Demand…

#coriolanus snow #coryo x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo x you #fanfic #coryo snow #president coriolanus snow #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

[legodamianwayne]

BATMAN AND ROBIN 2023 #1 (Take 6 (yes))

(im not writing this as i go since ive already read the issue before. ill also be mentioning gotham war since this takes place during it (just a warning for spoilers!))

i just noticed the bat and robin on the cover! so cute

OH........(just noticed this too) that doesn't look good

look at them goofing off n having fun

this is cute but the way bruce acts here and in gotham war is so jarring its kinda funny

bruce in batman #137: can't stand my fake ass family

bruce in b&r: me and my son damian 🤗

bruce is in his "local dilf in the area" era rn

damian having talia's mannerism that bruce noticed is so <3

and here its confirmed that this takes place during gotham war. not sure how to feel about that

STILL INSANE OVER THIS baby first self insert fanfic

damian went from drawing hyper realistic gore vent art to anime eyes in the corner

i think it'd be fun if we see damian write more as the story goes on. like him daydreaming n doodling in class

wonder if theres any meaning with damian putting talia as a hero n bruce as a criminal here...or maybe its just a "totally original character do not steal" thing

you dont say bruce 🙄

"the last few years"?? pretty sure the events shown there all happened not even in 2 years since damian turned 14 around the start of the lazarus tournament

also why are alfred n talia not shown there? alfred's death has huge impact on damian (he literally hallucinated him) n talia was there as much as ra's

i dont like how damian looks here but that white connor should be a crime

"thats enough emotions for tonight father" [slams door]

i wonder why damian is staying with bruce tho (outside of making this book exist) didn't bruce n talia had a custody battle moment™ n damian's like "nah i have my own life (is literally 14)"

HELL YEAH MY BOY CAN COOK

he's quoting alfred ohhh im gonna sob

this is kinda embarrassing for bruce...like ur son is finally living with you again n he's the one up early cooking?? sir u better step up

aw he's making tea the way alfred did

*squints* did bruce get his hand back? thats a pretty normal looking hand to me

did damian's comment on it in batman #137 made bruce think "shit i cant give damian any ideas of getting a robot hand" n he just. magically grow it back

[GLASS SHATTERING SOUND]

gotham...heights? n. not gotham academy? no maps? no damian joining her dnd team?? no detective club finally hanging out with damian??

ik damian got expelled from gotham academy BUT. WHY

okay? whats the point if he's not going to the same school that his friend went to?

interesting how damian fantasize for a normal life in robin 2021 (with him liking the mundanity of shoujo manga) n now that bruce is offering him that he's rejecting it (or maybe he just rly don't like school which is. fair enough)

wellll just cuz we're not getting maps n the detective club doesn't mean damian's other friends arent showing up right? RIGHT? (maya plz come home)

THE ROBIN MOBILEEE it looks so ridiculous i love it

HOLD ON. DOES THIS CAR HAVE NO SEAT BELTS?? BRUCE UR LETTING THIS SLIDE?

ik that thing is rly loud too damian waking up the whole neighborhood here

not rumors abt the batfam fighting getting spread around?? this is so embarrassing omg

am i the only one getting gotham academy flashbacks here? with killer croc n the trio with the fox shark n bird masks

they're very comfortable with calling eachother father n son while in suits huh. ig everyone in gotham knows that batman is a dilf (who's beefing with his adult children) now

not much to say abt the rest: bruce got shot with something n now bats are attacking him

end thoughts: i hope with all the focus on animals here means that we're getting damian's pets back soon n that gotham war wont affect this book much since i rly want to see damian interact with his siblings again. also is it just me or does the day scenes looks very bright? saturated? it kinda hurts for me to read idk. the night scenes r pretty tho

next issue is damian's first day on his new school that is not gotham academy but im still excited for it! (coping)

bonus bestie corner

#damian wayne #bruce wayne #batman and robin 2023 #FINALLY tumblr keeps posting it while im editing it but its done yippee #this is inspired by makeste bnh/a liveblogs! i remember how much fun it was reading them that i wanna try it with b&r #tho i dont think i could ever write as much for a single issue... #still figuring out how i want to do this

[beagotlost]

autumn days at the potters’ <3

part one

part two

a/n: so this is the first thing that i’ve ever published so i’m a bit nervous for people reading my work (not that many will lol) but pls give it a chance + enjoy !!!content: fem! reader x james potter (seventh year) fluff, small mention of food.

a/n (again): a series of cute little autumn days at the Potters’ house. Hopefully heartwarming??

You huddled yourself deeper into your scarf and stuffed your hands into your pockets a bit harder against the bite of the October afternoon wind. The sun was distantly warm, but not warm enough to fend off the chill that nipped at your nose.

The trees that lined the street were clad in leaves of orange and red and gold, and the windows of the houses glowed brightly against the descent of dusk.

You came to the gate of the Potters’ house and pushed it, fingers coming into contact with the cool metal. The house was big and warm and inviting, even from the outside. Boston ivy climbed the walls of the house, golden glowing windows framed with white peeked out of the red and gold hues. You walked up the path to the door, boots softly brushing against flagstones, fingers wrapping around the shiny brass knocker.

After just two knocks, the door was flung open to reveal James’ beaming face, complete with rumpled up hair and crooked glasses like always. After all this time, seeing him still gave you butterflies.

You grinned back at him, dropping your bag to the floor as you were drawn into his arms in a tight hug. You pressed your face against his shoulder, feeling his soft sweater on your cheek and inhaling his familiar scent.

"Missed you." You said into his chest, voice muffled by the thick sweater.

James pushed you away and leaned down to kiss you. You completely forgot that you were standing on the doorstep on a freezing cold October afternoon. You were filled with warmth from the contact of your lips and James' arms holding you close.

"I missed you too." He whispered onto your lips. But before he could kiss you another time, Euphemia's voice sounded from behind him.

"Let the poor girl inside, she must be freezing." James chuckled, before picking your bag up and shutting the door.

Mrs Potter came forward and hugged you tightly. Still slightly embarrassed from getting caught kissing your boyfriend by his mother, you thanked her for letting you stay.

"Oh it's nothing. We haven't seen you in ages, and besides, we love having you round just as much as James does. Mind you, it's almost as though you are here all the time, given how much he talks about you." Mrs Potter laughed, and James went a little bit red. "Ive just put the kettle on, would you like tea?"

"Yes please, Mrs Potter, that would be great."

"Oh, call me Effie. I should like to think that we're well past 'Mrs Potter."

You smiled as she left the room to sort out tea.

"Let's you drop your bag off upstairs." James suggested, immediately grabbing it and bounding up the stairs, making you laugh as you ran after him.

You were much more unfit than he was, and when you stumbled into his room, legs aching a bit after running up the steep stairs. You fell into James’s arms, and you rose up on your tiptoes to meet his eyes.

“Shall we pick up where we left off?” You breathed. James answered by kissing you, deep and slow and passionate. Your insides melted like butter again as you ran your hands up his back underneath his sweater. James held you close to his body by your waist, his other hand running through your hair.

“TEA IS READY!” Euphemia’s voice broke the two of you apart, and james let out a small laugh.

“That is the second time in ten minutes that I have been cock blocked by my mother.”

Laughing at him, you fixed your hair and followed him down the stairs, into the kitchen where Effie had laid out a pot of tea and four cups and saucers along with a plate of hot, toasted, buttered tea cakes. You inhaled the aroma of spices and fruit that came off them and thanked Effie as she poured your tea.

Over tea you caught up on school, and how your parents were doing and what the rest of your ‘gang’ (which is where James chipped in and corrected her to ‘marauders’) we’re doing over the holidays and if you had plans to see them.

You spent so long chatting that it was dinner time and Fleamont had to make dinner, so you and James attempted to help, but probably ended up being more of a hindrance, so you just sat on the stools behind the island and talked to James’ dad as he did all of the cooking.

~~~

After dinner, you played scrabble with James’ family and showed them some of the photos you had taken over the previous half term at school.

The living room was probably the cosiest, most homely place you had ever seen. A huge crimson velvety sofa and two swishy armchairs faced the fire, all laden in cushions and throws. The mantelpiece was an organised jumble of family photos, decorated with a vase of sunflowers and some little ceramic pumpkins. You sipped hot chocolate and laughed at James trying to convince everyone of the legitimacy of his scrabble words.

Eventually, you felt as though you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes open so you excused yourself, and went upstairs to brush your teeth, wash your face and change into your pyjamas.

When you entered James’ room, he was already there, standing half dressed on the far side of the room next to his chest of drawers. He was shirtless, and his red plaid pyjama bottoms sat low on his hips.

“How did you get here before me?”

He winked. “Magic.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and ran your hands up his chest, toned by years of quidditch practice. You slung your arms around his neck and his hands drifted from your lower back to your butt, lifting you up so your legs wrapped around his waist.

You titled your head back to look at him, before running a hand through his hair and crashing your lips together, sparks shooting through your body. James walked the two of you to the four poster mahogany bed in the middle of the room draped in heavy red curtains and made up on cream sheets.

He laid you down gently on the bed, your legs still around him as he deepened the kiss and you pulled him even closer towards you.

#james potter #marauders #james potter x reader #james potter x you #the marauders

[kmoplq]

My Mother’s Café

Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish x GN!Reader

Synopsis: All of 141 is on leave and you thought you’d relax at your local and favorite café with the nice lady working there. Little did you know McTavish would take her place.

Notes: This was the most random idea ive ever had and the fastest ive ever went up with an idea like that 💀💀

WC:596

Twice a year, unless of injury, all of 141 gets to go on leave. This was 1 out of 2 of those weeks. You laid in bed, wondering what you should do on your time off.

Normally, you’d sleep or only go out for groceries since no one else besides Laswell, from the task force was in America. You didn’t want to disturb her and her wife’s time asking to go out somewhere.

You decided to at least get up and take a shower. After you got home last night, you just striped and went straight to your bed.

While getting undressed, you remembered the café that you’d always visit on your time off. That’s when you decided to go there instead of sleeping the break away.

You got out the shower, dried off, and went to your closet. Since you hadn’t been home for a while, it never crossed your mind to do the laundry. You looked up to the tiny amount of clothes on the white plastic hangers to pick out.

You thought about going to the gym later, so you just threw on your compression shirt and some shorts. You grabbed your keys and phone and headed out the door.

As you pulled up to the café, you noticed the usual long line. The place had very few people come around, reason being why you loved it so much. You turned off your car and walked in.

What you didn’t expect to see is Soap panicking behind the counter with a red apron on and hair threw back into a mohawk ponytail with a scrunchie.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sight almost making you belly laugh in the blaring café. You didn’t realize that you were next in line until you heard Soap clear his throat.

“Hello and welcome to Scottish delights how can i help you today?”

You finally looked up to him. Getting a good glimpse of him made your face warm. His scar down his eye shining in the early morning, almost afternoon.

“I didn’t know you worked another job, McTavish?”

“I don’t. Im here on my mama’s behalf.” “Your mom?” “Yeah, shes out sick. The flu.”

You had to do some mental mathematics in your head to calculate what he meant.

“Like.. Your mom is an employee??”

“No dimwit, she owns the place.”

You had to blink at him for a split second, but your small dick sized brain finally caught on.

“O-“ “Listen hurry up and order and i’ll explain more after my shift, I get off at 6.”

You ordered your usual and waited at a table patiently. You thought about the woman, finally noticing the smile so similar to Soap’s, the body language, the eyes, and most definitely the accent.

You can tell he got most of his traits from her too.

“number 65 with a black tea, 3 sugar cubes, and one cranachan.”

You heard Soap yell, he almost sounded like he was on the field.

Seeing peoples heads and faces turn startled was funny. You got up from your seat and walked over ti the counter.

“Hm, maybe I should meet your mother more personally?”

“Don’t sweat it, she doesn’t like dimwits like you.” “Really? Because every time i’d come here, she seems very fond of me.”

He started turning pink and shoved the bag and cup towards me.

“Just get the hell out and i’ll see you at your place later.” “Ok, seems like a date though. See you later!!”

You took your order and headed out the café towards your car.

IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING BUT UH HERE U GO SS MY APOLOGY 😞😞 (might be a part 2??)

#mw2022 #soap x reader #johnny mctavish #soap mctavish

[libidomechanica]

True, and never soulful phrases, brilliant wide

A limerick sequence

               I

I would be a bed the she life, climbing snapp’d without passee’ and the woman.    One strength dividing, from    its this, and clear. True, and never soulful phrases, brilliant wide.

               II

And there I throat shall summon Sense. The blue, silvery dusky groves though in    their imaginary    with a lost your pillows of what’s faces and creeping; but breath!

               III

Torch but to the lately been is dressed, but a page of what to the Dutch fledge.    If their planet’s goblet:    she will on pride the field, and since ghosts of mutual and flies.

               IV

Never little lisper is suspect, whose whole. Broken he doubt in our sins    bob their she breezy sky,    that written, love the gate and strike dying. Her eyes; that she wing.

               V

And as light. Like a little brough, of flowers grew, from she ev’n the day, alas!    Was a scorn to a    dash’d the very banks, how darkener of ioy, where, the ocean.

               VI

At this pass with alley. Of bedded slumber; and free, but much, enthraldom    sings inster, I shalt sit    will track’d on the promise through were we may enterpart or no.

               VII

Lay among this quick beats you the plowboy is curl’d first yet. They say of tale    age instant with her—but    mind. And the cries, seem an ever. And fly to understood sex.

               VIII

The ornament, play. I, nor not only to countiful&carved foreverend    Rodomont Precisian    wrecks; and less as a boy at chimneys of ioy, why shown tops?

               IX

The glow, that general stay, Miss O’Tabby, and maiden day arising, conjure    to do? Literary    radian such a tattoos into a Midwife, show we speak.

               X

The dreams the lake, and drops rising in his side. She wood as a grand infant    round elbow, which is dead    out the branching aymes came face—but not. Or turn’d hardly heart.

               XI

It preach’d on the creatures no repay. Knowing a party, At this heart which    The white, his never write    to Lambrosial cash bereft, nor give me sleep are has he love.

               XII

Three perfect of knowledged myself grow off sometimes shining resign; and    act of bounty from the    gave me than more could achieve no voice wilful twilights my lad.

               XIII

A signal-flag; and plunder noble lodged—throughts arise, shall keep and temptied    then, and tenderness? Those    symmetrical, also this such as speckled third, across-grain’d.

               XIV

Her vision see, as the bastard in our deeds?—How the wind, where were much fled,    and both too soothe year. I    know, by bidding in the gate-end, extincture of all this eye?

               XV

With my own rain, yet looks and Lords and look’d up the first to make of mind: thus    spake. Human claimed his for    I grow together teeming the grained present shaken withdrew.

               XVI

You make my hope beyond thus, which that is perhaps no doubt of melodious    and enormous wake    us marting years to stems our body die. A rose, and sigh.

               XVII

Lives ghostlike ship divine back, the was Ralph had laws, could stand are, I’m sure is    so, who refuse to let    the sage, too, I am the same. Strengthen went birds in mildness!

               XVIII

Of the brance look for some of the dust we lease, not only now deduce the    skies who neither; just still!    To given across it and Stellaes her neck unto our search’d.

               XIX

Bedded rocks of love: its qualified all is the man’s stars she says sounds force,    yet wast stays brine. Indeed    of palmy life like to terror, as never said it, the heard.

               XX

How she halls, a tumultuous wit, making to bleeds and perfection’? And    whilst throat. Till last to breathing    o’er the free the patrons the bird sorts which brough thunder-lip.

               XXI

See her golden can tea! There, thine own will planet wi’ a new-found there gullet    should noted we wilder    rais’d away all she had take. Footsteps fortune late progress’d.

               XXII

Were going of the spirit frankind. As nonsense swell; till person, which keep    into base? All day like    in vaine heart to this they find no more slip away, sprinkles curls.

               XXIII

And farmer’s feet to pass’d away! The naked story of his rage out and    uninspired of planet    wi’ her lovely take religion of all weep; and we shoot.

               XXIV

Ear than if to lose most destinging. I say, as them. Should pensill lady.    Dante within my soft    sin intentment light. Ye with truth,—the very one. It’s antic.

               XXV

Muses of hooks question,—all the your old as to join. Were is fair; the might    like Jewels pebbles in the    bastard songs all unseen unto lose chieftain of a column.

               XXVI

Sweet love all the made accused then the tasted leap’d with the views, howsoe’er, my    servented his earth until    a gentle beauteous as determined been her the woman.

               XXVII

No mean, and with a long look up from Arabian. And there shepherds are    full: we cannot death, but    the bastard soule opprest, being spirit, the first day! Whither.

               XXVIII

I writhin your baron tyrants, enkind, have I lo’ed her figure of Virgin-    treason, science, or    another an’ shape: tis the world? And tho’ your placed his hours out.

               XXIX

At length, but gentle spring, became fruit of jarring came thou alone for    any a hero’s can    restle to go on? See the your best intent twisted success.

               XXX

The resolve if human to remini he is Maud, Maud? What we men, the    fair, answered in my mountain    between us, like a crowned, i’d having his little.

               XXXI

Woman names a wailful glance, as many a fact, the blood well that darkening    rill! From powders are left,    and all the days out the friends. And Lo! We are not for some gall.

               XXXII

Few specimens yet no more the days is. For him hide in mountains he seem,    when Ionian stood as farre    to stammer childish plunder half cut the though tame,—and tincture.

               XXXIII

Last the pleasure. I things than lightly forgot, the cell, with river; so please—    beating throught that sweet face    in: from her seats in start but the native lark was anonym.

               XXXIV

From you to who day she good Sir Peter tary, and amid the hodge    porridges! And whisper with    Time than drew friendship, and later fingerings, and earthly wrecks?

               XXXV

Let compass, that outspreaded morbid! But let us light, is but love were    sometimes in the rest, or    harmless really and an arm is flourishing starry in dead.

               XXXVI

And armour, not the worlds breath! Brief into grove, and we have them breast was not    too near our wilt, but slipped    to clime, and disappear: thus seek for to hye and fair chieftain’d.

               XXXVII

Past or making, her visage to her be got up, whether how it creed, dead.    Not so adorn the peaches    for heart become gain’d rills. Move, a man, there bills, to thy fool.

               XXXVIII

And Cathers. Of his proud spite or lay- men, with gladly in drooping, scandal    doth made, on her mind station    was of blood war how small bury alone consolate brave.

               XXXIX

Or had breed from slaughty draught I, Morpheus slept, sad there, start but heart to close,    grave, and had Horace: his    horses have not. Twas trace with tall and under that frown witty.

               XL

But it in despatch! Think, a sign’d the mighty drinks and did not I have cheek    of all mock of men. Saw,    I might now, are ripe, let not, which enquire the moment see.

               XLI

Thou to this own he link be deep Passing. Juan, t is gone, and we would be    morning hovers, and little    each clusters, and yet— she hang limb, and I saw their mists all?

               XLII

With his pulse of my tear, shall legs weathed almost mind. And up and was mine    and wise have gaiety and    hath punched about to keep them apple, thou are most dear become.

               XLIII

If a fooled. I sat cost honey-whisper, or flesh o’ my could I read again    instinctures wait    that airy sweet some some body does with man but know, ere mind.

               XLIV

By sudden sit your back climb Aornus, and bulky way in whose who wastefully,    and truth wonder    willowy-bosom in ev’ry postboys love. Now one on me.

               XLV

Captain’s love left his foot our touch of dirty served; she myself, we’ll go, and    furrows the black e’e, yet    true. And thought. A little her friends; and with rivals of a wide.

               XLVI

The vessel both a volcano hold thy virgin; beauty’s coil: they beheld    an universe call rocks.    Without her Will you heroic in it might sky, a decay.

               XLVII

Eye and weeds your to-night: nor dead. And Lord, with tears of time that his added,    Blame or Early, like a    gold; or else contented on a new created snowball speak?

               XLVIII

But whence fire in the omen and long stray’d delayed face I saw hers, have just    your entangle scions with    their ruff too. Forbidden, lovely Rose,—tells than his style admir’d.

               XLIX

Farewell at even now all sudden neat, still enterwove by the earring    your little heaven? Tis    not in my small inheritage; and Phyllis be but we slew.

               L

Glory easily I things hymn’d by men; but only margaritable    the Lord graces of Sir    Ralph’s wife. My Muse some woo’d, unless Hosts the kill’d Saviour, notes; save.

               LI

With thought all the Neptune it: howe’er pause. Both dwell; she my visit us    much mourning rather walks    of manner., His baptized here most travellers, not their fellow.

               LII

In look aparted bliss; and haps the first in blasphemies. All the fire; full    twanging the chieftain kintry    instinct, not how, no carrior’s command of love, note the you!

               LIII

The orchest of a dreary days a placeman. Or not save listens our    hands to discourself! Under    a connection, its boughs, and Adam’s face; their own away.

               LIV

As death: mark me, the first beach her beloved angular intends, froze. My    saying; so pale, some we    sees now it never smooth Anthea laugh there. The heart, the dead.

               LV

And your best: but past. He the way let me slight, and young days, so sure they say    something to universal    dew fall lips: and the came to pass’d foe sues forget—in May.

               LVI

Manifold, nor skin, but let it greeting, before I reserved: the glow’d from    timeless darken! Lord Henry’s    will still, it is a giant as a crescended anguish.

               LVII

Look, a stay, sets to a wilder of your solace, disdain percharge. Earth, and    long ago hates, and falling    when hairs. Divine that stream enclosets dost their nature speak?

               LVIII

It has not them really decayed at all which rate. That overlet’s life’s    forgotten. And where overcome    from Livorno by this Arbour and now best on a pause!

               LIX

Crystal started upon a dreamed of lofty thus thralling Lilia woke    with neither raise bewray    it struck without the walls Ilion lay be should have been? And down.

               LX

And yet Juan angry sin is suspect with wineglass without still found their    virtue slut the costume.    As boyish lady still was more of golden remorse, and watch.

               LXI

’ So like house a fresh before, ’tis the apartment fare-thee-—yet shalt see the    time’s right! Glee would on this    was and Osiris the sits, and so that the little joy it.

               LXII

When your cheek hath a mine; ’ both in youth and my chariot stones wealthier,    thou great dearier another’s    lady. And when the bloom, which sense there was no more the dear.

               LXIII

That shall no open from his hum, was more lieutenance? With joys: then, wise two    women dancing like    Caracter in path; and I, lowly began, till that we lost you.

               LXIV

Of the but would as out-told thy you nondescripture imitars alone    of the seas long deserts    state, o’er our skin whither unpleasure of where was Love Supreme.

               LXV

And Lady Daphne had demolish- shaven, how God with his own merely    hew and the fault wane, song    ago hath broad shore, ’tis nough tale; there made the opera’s self-said.

               LXVI

Bone ascend about me, smoothest excellent and paces o’er there, her heads    I know! Then the sun’s lays    and in a braine. And truculent, which thee, or wrong.—What is wrong.

               LXVII

Rouse up they’ve sophy, and, as well as trim as save no voice; whetherefore,    I would nothings charm’d with    a single do I prevail, the hill? Also kept, like a sense.

               LXVIII

Spread of country: Pitt too serves, and dim, endymion! For what the passion, wise    on that all that green from    all. Forgive. I have to win her reach; and slime that silly sweet.

               LXIX

Forward laughs but bring she cares, to give wild of rode; it special protective    left behind. Brave and beats    into thee her, in me go, and keeps for the worlds back the Moon.

               LXX

Said without all th’adulter in they were all rocks incense swift the grape could    save of the make fain pity.    All day till the space the burden of light of the stole that.

               LXXI

To succulent, that since whereon my loving, leaves does now a paradise:    when you’d before her Will    till heaven, ’ as Cassandra warm. Suck a piteous batch; an end.

               LXXII

Dried beyond her grape could sleeping wont with made, inster, that know they were mind,    have that once of the Bored.    Ye immortal rain came, and plays when hand. What is time will shape.

               LXXIII

Having new— like some from the with me. Other’s art for to the praise better,    among woo’d then, that god    of the crowd of those eyes of her line: loved weave your choice, no hum.

               LXXIV

Her gold ; then it kisse, with than alas! Are Homer’s eyes, wood at a strong. A    clever man with that could    self and with Phoebus take they have any darling? Or her meet.

               LXXV

‘If it was more be banish’d to sleep. Strike most hopes, and never end of the    mignonette of Venus,    with should for an instant pictures broad lawn all that shall fences.

               LXXVI

They quickly new delayed at once, thy lips, the world out, when plains in ye right    but mine, in while those cheeks    of the sovereign. On woman any other famine us!

               LXXVII

But then, every love me my Dear, my love were, so delight? I will for altar,    seemed to get out an    all pay by Strange bring unto the glory, or many darling?

               LXXVIII

I feel with the grave large, equipage! ’Tis not purer, because by, ere    manifold, or to instant    eyes—the chief into o’er her down twelve house, that’s forth, all my sword.

               LXXIX

I would fare it in the least holds th’hill’s shaft, a care not keep into Elysium.—    Fairest odds too    oft came must rhyme, rather o’er shame, and men she remembers all?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #181 texts #limerick sequence

[teabooksandsweets]

A City of Bells

Chapter IV — Part I

Wednesday came and Jocelyn and the children once more sallied forth watched from the front door by Grandfather and Grandmother and from an upper window by Sarah and Ellen. In the placid life of Torminster tea-parties were of importance. They lay on the surface of existence like the markings of the hours on a clock face, measuring the slow movement of time. Events were remembered in relation to tea-parties. “It was the day I went to the Archdeacon’s in my blue silk,” a Torminster lady would say if asked when her cook gave notice. Or, “We made twelve pounds of crab-apple jelly that year. I counted the pots when I came back from Canon Roderick’s … I wore my puce.”

So it was important that Jocelyn and the children should go to tea with Mrs. Jameson. Sarah gave Jocelyn’s suit an extra pressing and Ellen sewed new elastic in the children’s sailor hats, put a white collar on Henrietta’s smock and bought her a new pair of strap shoes.

Jocelyn, apart from the fact that he wanted to see Felicity again, felt that the event was epoch-making. He put the feeling down to the fact that the Torminster houses stood in walled gardens, so that when you want to tea next door you seemed to be going a journey into a foreign country.

In Torminster there was no looking over a low fence to see what the butcher was taking next door for dinner, and no watching the road outside through railings to see who attended next door’s tea-party to which you had not been invited. No. High walls enclosed you as in a moated fortress and you could know nothing at all of the goings-on of next door except by a system of espionage carried on through the agency of whichever of the tradesmen happened at the moment to be walking out with cook.

From this followed the feeling that next door was a long way off. You went out through the door in your wall and banged it shut behind you. You were now separated from your own citadel. Your hollyhocks and your roses were hidden from you and if you could see anything of your house it was only the top of a crinkled roof; the eyes of the house, the windows, could no longer meet yours and you felt as thought the house had turned its back on you. Abandoned, you turned to your right, advanced a few paces and found yourself opposite another closed door in a high wall … Next door … You could see nothing of it and for all you knew anything might have happened beyond that wall since you were there last. The house might have been painted magenta, or peacocks might have been introduced in the kitchen-garden and mock-turtles in the front garden, they might have a new lawnmower or a bird-bath, or simply anything. You laid your hand upon the door handle with an expectant heart, like a sailor who has sailed from across the seas and lets down his anchor in a foreign harbour.

Savouring this feeling Jocelyn paused for a moment at Mrs. Jameson’s door. It was scarlet, with a brass handle, and over the top of the wall looked white lilac-trees already in blossom. The green and white and red made him think of a Chinese plate picturing that enchanting world of bridges and pagodas and lovers who never grow tired.

“Hurry! Hurry!” whispered Henrietta, alternately raising herself on her toes and swinging back on to her heels again, to get the stiffness out of her new, squeaking strap shoes.

The promise of something fantastic contained in Mrs. Jameson’s scarlet garden door was fulfilled when one got inside, for her garden was like the palette of a child’s paintbox, a confused jumble of all the brightest colours on earth. It was too early for the geraniums and calceolarias that she loved, but there were red tulips, golden marigolds and blue irises in profusion. There were also a sundial, a pond with goldfish in it and a hammock of striped red and green, all of them looking rather odd against the formal dignity of the Queen Anne house behind them.

It was one of the charms of Torminster that though the houses were all of them old they were of different periods, so that Queen Anne jostled William the Conqueror and Queen Elizabeth patronized the Georges. They all had different atmospheres, too, Grandfather’s being monastic and Mrs. Jameson’s mad Chinese.

Jocelyn and the children mounted the steps to the front door and rang the bell. It was answered by Felicity, who wore her simple blue frock and looked extremely out of place against the assortment of bric-à-brac that the hall contained. Tiger skins lay on the floor, bamboo tables stood about loaded with every kind of silver ornament and the shields and spears of savages covered every space on the walls not already occupied by sticky oil-paintings and photographs of Mrs. Jameson’s relations.

There was a twinkle in Felicity’s eye as she ushered them in. “I thought I’d better let you in myself,” she said, “so as to explain things. Come upstairs and mind the thistles.”

Jocelyn saw to his astonishment that the banisters had bunches of thistles tied on to them.

“There are no back-stairs for the maids to use,” explained Felicity, “and so Aunt Adelaide ties thistles to the banisters so that the maids shan’t put their hands on them.”

She walked prancingly up a few stairs, Jocelyn toiling after, and then stopped again. “I’d better explain Aunt Adelaide’s clothes. She always dresses in the colours of the Church’s seasons, stockings and all. She wears purple in Lent, red at Whitsun, white during festivals and green the rest of the year.” She pranced on a little farther, stopping again to give her final instructions. “Whatever you do don’t contradict Aunt Adelaide, because that upsets her. And if you don’t like parrots, pretend you do.”

“Why?” asked Hugh Anthony.

“Don’t ask questions, Hugh Anthony,” Jocelyn whispered hoarsely.

The drawing-room was a lovely room, curtained, carpeted and furnished in scarlet. There were so many chairs and tables and china ornaments and photographs that it was almost impossible to move, and in each of the four corners of the room was a green parrot in a cage.

Mrs. Jameson rose at their entry and came graciously to meet them. She was a tall and very dignified old woman clothed from head to foot in snow white, it being still the season of Easter, and scintillating with jewels. Her fingers were covered with them, and her wrists, and the bodice of her silk dress, and a string of pearls was even twisted in her white hair. She looked like some superb, barbaric princess until one looked at her face, which was that of a bewildered child.

“Good afternoon,” she said in her deep tones. “Sit down. And are these the dear children? I have seen them in the Cathedral at divine service, but I have never yet had the pleasure of receiving them in my house.”

She shook hands graciously with Jocelyn and the children, who were mercifully struck dumb with astonishment, while the parrots yelled, “Good-bye, dear,” in chorus. Then they all sat down before a silver tea-tray and quantities of plates containing every kind of sugar cake.

When she had poured out the tea, and asked them if they liked milk and sugar, Mrs. Jameson seemed to drift off into a dream and became silent. Felicity and Jocelyn chatted with some constraint about London and the weather, and the children, still overwhelmed, just ate. Only the four parrots were really voluble. “Give us a kiss,” said one. “Scratch Poll,” said another. “Good-bye,” said the third firmly, while the fourth hinted over and over again, “Must you really go now?”

Half-way through tea Mrs. Jameson came to life. “I am sure you are interested in missions,” she said to Jocelyn. Remembering that she must not be contradicted he said that he was.

“Then you will like to hear,” she said, “that on the spot where my dear husband was killed there is now a Christian church and school; so you see his death was not wasted.”

“No, indeed,” said Jocelyn gently.

“There’s nothing I hate more than waste,” went on Mrs. Jameson, her mind swinging off to another topic. “But for me there’d have been a great deal of waste when that young man who lived in the Market Place ran away. What was his name? Ferranti.”

“How do you mean, Aunt?” inquired Felicity with interest.

“His effects were sold, dear, to pay his bills, and I was the first arrival at the sale. I always go to sales. I always say it’s wonderful what one can pick up at them … Well, yes … When I arrived there were piles of papers, newspapers and magazines and so on, lying stacked on the floor in a corner of the room. ‘What are you going to do with those, Mr. Jones?’ I said to the auctioneer. ‘Burn them, ma’am,’ he said, ‘they’re no use to no one.’ ‘What waste, Mr. Jones!’ I said. ‘I’ll buy them to light my fires with.’ And I did. I hate waste.”

“And are they all used up?” asked Jocelyn.

“Not yet,” said Mrs. Jameson, “for I had a good deal of paper of my own laid by, but I’m getting through them gradually.”

“I think it was very foreseeing of you to buy those papers,” said Jocelyn gravely.

Felicity beamed at him. He was being sweet to Mrs. Jameson and she liked him more than ever for it, for she loved her godmother. She was no more mad, Felicity always maintained, than Felicity herself. She had suffered a great grief and the effect of it upon her had been to make her a child again. Womanhood with its sorrows had been too much for her and subconsciously refusing to face it she had turned backwards into her childhood. But she was always perfectly rational, she never told lies, she never had delusions. She was amazingly generous, giving of herself and her money to every good cause that came along, she was loving and deeply religious and pathetically trusting.

“I should like to play spillikins with the children,” she said to Felicity when tea was over. “You can take Captain Irvin into the garden.”

Behind the house there was a walled vegetable-garden and down the middle of it ran a wide, moss-grown path arched over by nut-trees, and here Felicity and Jocelyn strolled up and down. The thick moss deadened the sound of their footsteps and the interlaced bright green leaves made Jocelyn think of carved, lacquered Chinese screens obligingly put up by Nature to ensure privacy while his friendship with Felicity put out its first timid leaves.

But only Jocelyn was conscious of timidity, for Felicity did not know the meaning of the word. She had been given the happy gift of a spirit that faced outward and she bothered about herself and her feelings as little as it is possible for a human being to do. Artist though she was the thought of self-expression was hardly ever in her mind except as a gift that was hers to give. When she acted it was of the waiting audience in the dark auditorium that she thought, not of herself. They wanted something of her and her response was as fresh and natural as the reply of the trees to spring sunshine.

And so now it was Jocelyn of whom she thought. He had given her a moment of rather strange experience that had seemed to bring him very close to her. When he had stood in the Market Place and looked at her through the window of Ferranti’s house he had seemed to see her herself, the essential untrimmed person whom she had told him was not Felicity Summers but only Felicity, and his look had thrilled her and comforted the lonely place that cries out for help deep inside every human being. Until that moment she had hardly realized that the place existed, but the sudden touch of healing applied to the ache and then withdrawn again had woken her up to awareness. Conscious now of this empty room at the centre of her being, it had been with almost a fellow-feeling that she had learnt from the cook that Jocelyn had taken that house in the Market Place … The poor thing would not be forlorn any more, and neither would Jocelyn.

“I’m so glad about your house,” she said impulsively.

“What house?” said Jocelyn.

“That house of Ferranti’s that you are turning into a bookshop.”

“But I didn’t know I was,” said the bewildered Jocelyn.

“What?”

“Whoever told you I was?”

“Aunt Adelaide’s cook. Everyone in Torminster knows about your bookshop and we’re all so pleased.”

“But how can everyone in Torminster know about it when I don’t know about it myself?”

Felicity began to laugh. “In Torminster everyone knows much more about one than one does oneself, you’ll find.”

“But I haven’t said a word about it to a soul!”

“But perhaps you’ve thought a thought about it to yourself?”

“Well, it did just cross my mind that it would be fun to keep a shop in Torminster, but it was only an idea—”

“That’s enough for Torminster. It’s one of those places where thoughts blow from one mind to another and then sprout. It’s the quiet, you know. Quiet is to thoughts what air is to seeds. It’s wonderful what receptive minds Torminster people have. Now Keziah, the cook, only has to walk past a person’s house and she knows all their family history, especially the parts they wouldn’t want her to know. It just blows out of their minds and sprouts in her.” A note of anxiety crept into her voice. “You don’t mean to tell me that you aren’t going to open that shop?”

“But of course not. Why should I?”

All the happiness went out of Felicity’s face and she looked like a lovely child whose toy has been snatched away. “Oh, I am so disappointed!”

“But why?” said Jocelyn gently.

“Because Torminster needs a good bookshop so badly. What with the relaxing climate and the soporific effect of the bells Torminster people have minds like Tennyson’s lotus-eaters.”

“But a bookshop wouldn’t alter the climate or stop the bells.”

“No, but it might counteract their mental effect … And I hate that darling house to be empty. I love it as though it were a person and I want it to be lived in.”

“Someone else will take it if I don’t.”

“No, they won’t, because of there being no drains.”

“I don’t see why it should be me to suffer a drainless existence for the sake of the minds of Torminster.”

“Oh, please! Please!” begged Felicity, and Jocelyn saw to his astonishment that she was near tears. He had yet to discover the passionate energy which she bestowed on any new idea.

“But I’ve no capital,” he pleaded.

“You must have your pension, and your Grandfather would help.”

“But who would buy the books?”

“The Dean and Chapter. And you could have a circulating library. And we’d have a special department for the children and it would all be perfectly lovely.”

“I couldn’t let Grandfather lend me money,” said Jocelyn firmly.

“If that isn’t just like a man!” said Felicity with a sudden flash of the temper that was a part of her temperament. “I thought you had more sense than most, but you’re just like all the rest, as proud as Lucifer. You’ll disappoint disappoint us all and leave that house to its loneliness and prevent the Dean and Chapter learning a little something rather than stoop to a bit of humility!”

Jocelyn tried to change the topic of conversation, not knowing yet that Felicity could never be got to talk of something else until she had said the last word on the first subject, but was entirely unsuccessful … In sheer self-defence he found himself discussing the books that should be bought and the style of furniture best suited to the house with the green door.

#torminstertravels #booklr #adultbooklr #book recs #readalong #books #elizabeth goudge #a city of bells #a city of bells: chapter 4

[theshakespeareproject]

Thoughts on King Henry the Sixth Part I

Usually I will break these down further into the Acts, but for now, I wanted to talk about this one in one big chunk. Mainly because I didn’t start taking notes in the beginning. 

Each night I curled up in my reading chair that wouldn’t be out of place in my grandfather’s home, and read with my reading lamp and usually my dog curled up between my legs being his adorable self. I had this big thick volume cracked open on the left armrest because that was closest to the light and cast the least amount of shadows. I usually tried to have a mug, coffee, hot cocoa, or tea, in that order (sorry everyone, I like coffee better). 

To begin with: I had no idea what was being said almost the entire time. Shocker, I know. I tried my best to avoid glazing over but ocasnaionaly it happened and when I tried to find the spot where my eyes just started scanning instead of processing, I couldn’t. So if I missed something, I’m sorry, I’ll catch it on the reread.

Something that jumped out to me immediately, is I don’t think King Henry, the titular character, even showed up until Act III of V. For the most part, especially early in the story, the cast was made up of Earl’s all named after town’s that are in New England, I assume they’re probably in actual England as well but it is way funnier to imagine the Earl of Warwick going home to Warwick, Rhode Island and having to say “Wicked” constantly. 

Joan of Arc - is a character!? She is almost the antagonist but also I find her extremely sympathetic because, well, it’s Joan of Arc. Also, I pictured her as Vanessa Hudgeson’s the whole time, thanks Drunk History, she was one of two characters that stood out to me. 

As I was reading, I noticed two things about how I read these lines in my head. Without fail, I would read one line as speeding up and the one after as slowing down, and repeated this almost the entire time. I don’t think this was the actual rhythm that it’s meant to be read in but it’s what I defaulted to. The other, is that if I tried to picture someone reading the line, it was usually a man in his mid 30s, set against a black backdrop on a wooden proscenium stage, with like an angle of looking up at him from a slight bit left of house center. The man was lit from a top light, and his face was always blurred, and he always yelled his lines very angrily, still in that fast then slow rhythm. If anyone knows why my brain uncreatively placed these characters, please let me know.

Midway through Act IV, Talbot and his son begin speaking in rhyming couplets. I was looking for it before, I may have missed it, but this was the iambic pentameter I was expecting would be their the whole time, I think. Iambic pentameter was one of the things I remember my high school teacher from junior year telling me about, and it stood out as a cool writing technique, but also very stressful, I can never tell what syllable is supposed to be stressed. 

I’d like to talk about John Talbot, I feel like he very suddenly appeared, all of a sudden got really emotional, spoke in rhyme, and then died. Who was he? Why did he die so suddenly? When will he get his own spin off prequel?

France is a very important part of this story about a King of England. More than half the story is set there. The France part was vastly more interesting, why did we need any of this story set in England.

The War of the Roses was important, in some way. At one point many of the Earl’s and noble fellows pick between the red and the white rose. There’s a line about picking a white rose but pricking their thumb and turning the rose blood red. It’s interesting, but I’m going to need more historical context in the future when I do a reread. Most of my knowledge for the War of the Roses is due to A Song of Ice and Fire using it for inspiration (No, I did not watch The Tudors so no, none of my knowledge comes from there).

There’s a scene in Act V, maybe it wasn’t supposed to be funny, but I found it funny. Where Earl of Suffolk and Lady Margaret are talking, and after every line the other says to them, they have, like, a snarky one liner they say in an aside to the audience.

If you don’t know what the aside is, anytime Fleabag said something directly to the camera or made eyecontact, that’s an aside. It’s a breaking of the forth wall to explain info to the audience. It happens a lot in these plays. 

“Prehaps I need to be rescued by the French; And then I need not crave his courtesy.” Said by Margaret to the audience, line of the play for me. I too would love to be rescued from the British by the French. 

The sequence of Joan of Arc (she’s not called “of Arc” but it’s what I know about her so I’m going to keep using it for convenience sakes) being potentially gaslite by Shepherd, where he claims to be her father. I don’t know if he actually is, I don’t think he is, because he told them to burn her because she refused to recognize him. I don’t know if that’s sexism or an admission that he lied, either way, really uncomfortable scene.

This is followed by Joan of Arc claiming to be pregnant and then going through multiple potential baby daddies. If there is a historical basis for this, I will take back my complaint, but this felt like an attempt to villainize someone else’s hero, not cool Shakespeare.

Now, nearing the end of the story, I need to mention the Earl of Suffolk, the only Earl that stood out. And it really only happened in the final Act. He goes to France to “woo” Margaret and then gets her to agree to come back to England to marry King Henry. At first, I thought he was just that cool of a guy. Put’s on the riz and gets the girl for his homie. Nope. He does give an impassioned speech to convince others to let the King marry for love, but it’s a trap! In the last line of the play, Suffolk is revealed to be a secret villain. He is the Littlefinger! Yes, that’s right, there are two sequels to this play, we are getting MCUed way back in 1591! Picture it:

The Earl of Suffolk will return in King Henry the Sixth Part II

#william shakespeare #shakespeare #king henry vi #lit #literature #read along #books #book quotes #reading #reading challenge #surprise joan of arc #joan of arc

[asummersday]

22, 26 and 30

22. Share an excerpt from your favorite scene

This scene from chapter 6 of ataimw is so very near and dear to my heart <3

The kitchen is dark and the lair is quiet. Leo doesn't really want to let Donnie return to his lab just yet.

"Sit down," he says, snapping the first aid kit shut. "I'll make us hot cocoa."

Donnie doesn't protest. He cradles his burned hand to his chest and shuffles over to the kitchen table. Leo messes around the kitchen, picking out a pot and two mugs, cocoa from the tea cupboard and milk from the fridge.

It's the peaceful sort of quiet that only exists this early in the morning, when everything is pale blue and the sun hasn't risen yet. Donnie says nothing, and neither does Leo.

He barely bothers to make anything fancy, he just tries to be quick. When he's done, he makes his way to the kitchen table, mugs in tow.

“I don’t know how to make it as good as Mikey’s or Raph’s, but—” he slides the warm mug over to Donnie.

It’s a very nice mug— ceramic and plain white with dozens of flowers of varying sorts and sizes printed all over it. Leo’s mug is a dusty blue with ‘world’s best grandma’ written across it in neat print letters. Not nearly as nice as Donnie’s, but it’s taller and wider, so Leo’s not complaining.

“It’s fine,” Donnie replies, picking up the mug and taking a hesitant sip. “Thanks,” he adds as an afterthought.

Leo hums in reply, sliding into a vacant chair at the table. Neither of them bothered to turn on any other light in the kitchen, so they’re mostly sitting in the dark, drinking hot chocolate in silence.

Leo feels tired. It’s five in the morning, and he feels it weighing on him. His eyes sting a little and he misses how comfortably asleep he was back in Donnie’s lab.

Across from him, Donnie leans back in his chair, head tilted up toward the ceiling, eyes closed. He’s not sleeping, but Leo wishes he was. Donnie is never this careless with his tools, he’s never careless enough to use the more dangerous ones when he’s sleep deprived. He wonders, briefly, if Donnie would’ve gone knocking on his door after the fact had Leo not shown up in his lab, demanding his twin’s attention.

26. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Ohhh. I think I'd have to say when I decided to add Big Mama into the plot of ataimw. I know I've complained about it a bit but I just love to complain, I think its actually a pretty good direction I've taken the plot in.

YEAH cuz I was stumped for WEEKS trying to figure out the plot of this fic, because I suck at plots and I wasn't expecting this fic to require one. I have the angsty stuff going on alongside the plot (finding the cursed amulet) and I was like "well. Its kind of boring making Leo just like chase the foot clan around for 10 straight chapters especially considering that in canon theyre really not that good at what they do, plus its more fun to add something new to spice things up" and along came Big Mama. She's SUCH a fun character (but so difficult to write 😩) and having her in my story definitely makes my plot work better (bc bow Leo ACTUALLY has to work to get the amulet back instead of just chasing the foot clan around NYC. I got sick of that pretty quickly)

(Tbh a lot of people in my comments want leos brothers to find out what's going on but I HAVE A PLAN. and that plan involves no one finding out for at least a couple more chapters sorry.)

30. What’s something that you want to write in 2024?

Ive got a handful of projects for 2024, but at the top, id say finishing all the ashes in my wake. I have two Rise oneshots i really want to write also, both angst and hurt/comfort of course, and that's all I'll say about it :3

Theres also a DC fic that's been sitting in my drafts since September last year that I really hope to get to, though since my hyperfixation's fully shifted into rise idk when ill get to it

Thank you for the ask!!!!

#ask game

[snowwhirled]

R-XC/Introductory

"Icicles don't soften when they die; they sharpen into sabers and they stab you in the eye."

R-XC/Radtea

Hometown: Inkwell Isle IV Occupation: Snow Cultist, Cafe Owner (Formerly) Loves: Chocolate Hates: Cops

R-XC was Isle IV's former beloved barista until his sudden, unexplained disappearance early into the year. Having always been feeling lost in his life, he wasn't the most well known in the city, his only real friendship with the next door baker. One day, he had a delivery to a snowy dome he had never visited before, and soon found himself face to face with Mortimer Freeze. Exhausted from emotional struggles back at home, he requested to join the icy cult and unintentionally found himself at a high rank.

Have you seen him?

why did i write this like a flipdeck

R-XC! My silly cupsona. Other dumb notes:

His outfit is supposed to resemble my A-90 (Roblox Doors) design.

The white on his face is chipped paint which is supposed to be put in place of acne.

R stands for Radtea (Play on my "main" name, Radley, and Tea). XC is roman numerals for 90. This name is pronounced R-90 though snow cultists usually just call him ninety.

He is not actually tea, rather hot chocolate. Most of the contents of his head have frozen over though but can be easily reheated.

His weapon is an icicle knife but he also has a sled resembling a stop sign.

It might be hard to see here, but his nose is an octagon.

[I'll add more if I can remember it!]

#radley draws #r-xc/introductory #sona: r-xc #cuphead #cuphead dlc #cupsona

[dpurut]

i had the most inspiring dream ive had in years last night and im gonna write what i remember about it here so i don’t forget. I will def use this for a short story its far too intriguing.

I was on a bus going from god knows where back to my house. It was a very long trip so I had a book to read as well as an canvas + paint for some reason. The book was very thin and the cover was white. If youre turkish you can imagine the book looks like the can yayinevi classics series with the one picture and tiny heart on the spine.

I read the book maybe until 70% complete? The main character was a girl, a la Alice in wonderland, stuck in some world. She didn’t have a left eye and I’m very sure there was a scene near the middle where birds pecked it out. The other most prominent character was a man that I’m not sure was human. Like the book never specified he was or wasn’t but it was kind of obvious he was some kind of immortal, a god but more like a velvet room attendant if you know persona.

He had platinum blonde long hair and his face was described by the book as beautiful and womanly. He got mistaken for a girl at some point in the book but he just went with it. There was a ballroom scene where he was dressed as a woman with a full skirt and everything but for some reason he was found out. There was a scene where they were sitting across from each other at a small round table and having tea. Their conversation took up a good few pages. The man was talking about how he was named by the humans and in return he named them or something? It was about names and how this guy kinda both named himself and didn’t in a very roundabout way.

The main character wasn’t trying to return to another world or anything there wasn’t really any talk about that. I had to stop reading at that point of the book bc the bus had arrived at the stop next to my house. Another addition that is important is as i was reading all of this i was painting the tea scene on the canvas. It took me threeish tries to get it right but it still felt wrong. The painting had the girl and various people behind her but i hadn’t painted the man yet? I think.

At the end of the dream some kind of force started sabotaging the painting. Paint was appearing in places i didn’t put it and it was like this thing was trying to change the story of the book. I was talking to two friends over the phone as this happened. When i got off the bus i had to jump to get to the sidewalk as there were tiny wolf heads with yellow bulging eyes cramped under there growling and gnawing. For some reason. That’s it?

#acepostale #dream journal #very important thing to note. i had had a nightmare and woken up at 6:30 but i fell back asleep around 7:00 and this was what my brain made #for two hours until i woke up again at 9 #i think the fear kind of made me a blank slate for whatever different dream i was going to experience lmao #the guy looked like david sylvian if he wasnt a poser

[jellybeandrawsthings]

☹️hi i dont usually do this thing where i ask for art/thoughts on things but ive had a super bad day and i was just curious as to what your take on your wounded-on-krypton Kara would be doing with Lena if she hadn't of come out as Supergirl but they still met and fell in love- would Kara just be floating around Lena's apartment during quarantine listening to Lena read books and making her gf tea's and flying out to get her her supplies so Lena would stay safe from getting sick? I really love your art.

aww, I'm sorry u had a bad day, I made a little doodle and tried writing a little story for it as well that should answear your queastion about my scarred!Kara and her relationship with Lena if she didn’t became Supergirl (tho I'm not a writer, so its quality might not be the best)  hopefully it will make u feel even just a little bit better

The first time she met Lena, Kara was going to L-Corp to get a prosthetic replacement from their new Cybernetic Futures program since she kind of destroyed her old one.

Okay, she definitely destroyed her old one, but to be fair, who knew kicking a cement boulder with a prosthetic leg made from human metals but with the force of an angry and very frustrated superpowered being would destroy said metal leg. Really, who could've predicted that?

Walking into the building with warm coffee in hand proved to be more difficult than Kara hoped, her busted prosthetic making her wobble every two steps since she didn't have a spare she could wear - this was the spare - and the slippery tiled floor didn't help. Making her way to the elevator she kept glancing down focusing on her steps, this meant she didn't notice when a woman absorbed in her phone walked straight into her path. On instinct, she relaxed her body as to not harm the human she collided with, unfortunately, that meant she lost her barely-there, to begin with, balance and was sent sprawling onto the floor and her coffee splashing straight at the woman's shirt. Perfect. Just what she needed today.

She had an apology already forming on her lips when she looked up and for the first time noticed the woman, no, the goddess she bumped into. Her hair was black, but when it caught the light it shone deep chestnut brown and cascading down her back, her skin was pale and looked so soft Kara found herself wanting to touch it, her fingers twitching at her sides. The woman's eyes were green, though her right eye seemed to be two shades lighter, more gray than green. She wasn't looking at her currently occupied with taking in the state of her clothes. And Rao, her clothes. The outfit was that of a businesswoman, high heels ready to kill, dark burgundy slacks with a matching suit jacket, loose black tie, and a white shirt. A white shirt that was now covered in Kara's coffee. Oh no. She needed to fix this, like, immediately. The best place to start is with an apology, right?

———————

Lena was having a pretty normal day, all things considered. She should have known her days are never normal. She woke up early, ate a small breakfast, and went to work. There she had meetings with investors from 8 to 11, some paperwork to sign, a small meeting with the head of R&D at 12, and now she finally had enough time to take a break and maybe grab some lunch. With a certain sandwich place in mind, she made her way down to the ground floor and, while answering some last-minute e-mail made her way to the exit of the building.

Before she could even make it halfway to the wide double door, she felt something surprisingly solid and at the same time very wobbly bump into her, and then a sudden warmth and wetness on her chest. Looking down at herself confirmed what she already suspected, someone, spilled coffee on her. Thankfully it was only warm and not scalding hot the last thing she needed right now was dealing with coffee-induced burns. Making sure her shirt was the only thing damaged in the incident, Lena paid no mind to the person who bumped into her, that is until a very apologetic voice started talking to her. From the floor. Looking away from her ruined shirt, she took in the person frantically trying to apologize for spilling coffee on her, at least that's what she thinks the woman was trying to do, seeing as at his point she was rambling a mile a minute.

The woman on the floor looked young, probably around the same age as Lena herself, she had blond wavy hair gathered in a messy ponytail and hidden behind cute square-framed glasses, the bluest eyes she has ever seen. There was a burn scar covering most of the left side of her face and neck and more peeking out from under her shirt. Her left leg ended right below the knee, and the prosthetic she was wearing looked like someone put it under an industrial press and then tried to put it back into shape with a hammer. She was wearing blue sneakers, jean shorts, and a yellow tank top with tiny rainbow dinosaurs on it that gave her an unobscured view of the rippling muscles in her arms as she gesticulated wildly still rambling out something resembling an apology.

Taking it all in Lena came to one conclusion. She's cute. And so with warm coffee drying on her chest and a beautiful woman at her feet, really what else was there for Lena to do other than ask the blonde out on a date.

———————

They moved in together after a year of dating. Alex asked if they were sure, but there wasn't a doubt in their minds that this was what they wanted. It felt right. And they were glad for this decision since a few months later, they and most of the world's population were confined to their homes.

Days in quarantine were spent working from home on their laptops with their legs entwined together and sharing a blanket out of the view of the cameras. When they weren't working they were finding new ways to entertain themselves. Slowly making their way through the classics of fantasy and sci-fi literature, with Kara floating them above the couch and Lena laying on top of her chest reading aloud from her Kindle was how they were spending most of the evenings. During the weekends when there was less work, Lena tried to teach Kara how to bake - with mixed results - and Kara made it her mission to recreate as many childhood experiences Lena missed out on living with the Luthors as possible. Her blanket fort wasn't the most structurally sound, but it sure was cozy. Movie nights were a nightly routine, and cooking dinner together became the most sacred daily ritual neither of them dared or wanted to skip. Weekly game nights through zoom were initiated almost immediately after lockdown and to no one's surprise, Lena and Alex's competitiveness did not lessen with the development of not being in the same room. If anything it became worse. Bets about how long will it take for the two of them to start fighting and accusing each other of cheating were as much a tradition as game nights itself. Most days though were spent working and lounging together with Kara occasionally flying out to pick up supplies they needed. And when one day Kara flew through the balcony with two cats and a dog saying there wasn't enough space in shelters, who was Lena to refuse those cute puppy eyes (it didn't hurt that the dog and cats were adorable as well).

#consulting with the oracle #annonymous #supercorp #ficlet